Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 3)
Chapter Title: Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 3)
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Meet Mr. Black
Warnings: This is a heavy chapter. Grab a glass of wine and enjoy. :) Highlight for Warnings-may contain spoilers: * Character Death*
A/N: Much as last chapter, this is a mammoth, gi-normous chapter - ranging somewhere in the 20k-30k word range *g* edit: clocking in at 28k words *g*. But, as last chapter, it needs to stay together. Here is Part 3 due to size and LJ limits. 1 chapter left!
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)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22
Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 1)
Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 2)
The conversations with various world leaders had gone precisely as Ianto had assumed (and feared) -- on the one hand, outrage over the dragons' audacity following the invasion of Earth, on the other, a significant curiosity and interest in their technology. Some had outright refused a dragon stepping foot on Earth's soil, much less a restricted portion of their land, others had appeared willing to compromise.
If the dragons' intent was honest, Ianto might be willing to negotiate.
However, odds were not exactly in their favor and he no longer had Jack to give him a blow job for being right.
But he wasn't going to think about Jack. He couldn't.
So they all stood around Tosh's computers, Owen throwing paper balls into a bin (missing seventy-three percent of the time), a very quiet Gwen and Rhys reading through file upon file for an answer, Tosh hadn't moved from her chair except to visit the loo, and Ianto had finally made his last call. It was approaching seven in the morning; they had been up all night (the team outright ignoring Ianto's request that they get some sleep) and were no closer to an answer or even a theory than before.
They had roughly eight hours.
Desperation had found its home.
"What if we capture the alien, take it hostage and demand they leave."
Everyone turned to Owen and stared. Ianto wondered if it was time to put on another pot of coffee, the earlier whips of heads as the ideas had grown more and more ridiculous had grown to slow stares as time had crept forward.
They were saved from responding in any fashion (acknowledging the craziness of the idea and giving it credence) when Ianto's phone rang. A quick glance at the name and number left Ianto closing his eyes in protest of what he saw and an overwhelming sadness for the conversation that was to follow. It rang again, drawing questions from the team, before he answered. "Elaine."
"Ianto."
He should move, he couldn't have this conversation in front of everyone. But at the same time, all of his coffee-fueled energy had drained from his body leaving him rooted in place, clutching his mobile like a security blanket while the others looked at each other trying to figure out the relationship of the mystery caller.
There was silence on both ends of the line. Ianto knew his responsibilities, as did Elaine. Hell, they'd lost their mother to these things and now they had a new target. What was there to say? It was so easy to pretend with the others, to put on a front (sorely being disintegrated at the moment given the call) of belief in success. That they'd find a plan. That somehow, Ianto would get out of this mess and return to the Hub to deal with the paperwork. That's how it should be. That's how Torchwood Three acted. They'd faced a similar situation before, but Jack couldn't be killed and rose days later, a veritable modern-day Lazarus.
Expect the impossible.
Rely on the unexpected and blind luck.
That was the Torchwood way.
He couldn't lie and pretend like that to his sister. She knew him better than that and not even coffee and the smell of pipe smoke could make the situation any better. She'd lost a husband and a mother to Torchwood. And now, her brother was threatened. What was he supposed to say? They had no bloody plan, he couldn't even pretend they did. He'd have to go with the dragon to a ship in orbit just this side of Jupiter and he had no fucking idea how he'd ever get back home.
What could he say?
Ianto stared up at the high ceiling of the Hub, the mobile dangling in his fingertips as the stone appeared to swim, fighting against the grief of the past twenty-four hours so ruthlessly shoved aside in search for an answer to his small problem, fighting against losing the ones he loved and fighting equally as hard the need to protect the same.
Fighting. God, he was always fighting something.
Maybe the aliens truly wanted to negotiate. At which time Ianto might agree to supplying a few resources if only to get the dragons on their way. This stress and worry proving as unnecessary as sending Jack back to ... whenever he was taken. Maybe this preparation had all been for naught.
Much like the faeries, life didn't play fair. Torchwood didn't play fair.
And Ianto knew that, as did his sister.
"Give Bryce and Gareth a kiss for me," Ianto finally said once he was certain his voice would hold steady. "Make sure ..." He cut himself off, not wanting to voice anything like he was giving up. He wasn't. Torchwood had an amazing track record for success in the face of improbable situations. Ianto could hear his sister's sniffles on the other line and bit back an admonishment. Bravery for Bryce and Gareth's sakes, that was just ridiculous. They understood far more than most kids their age and maybe, just maybe they'd think their uncle might be with their father. "Da' too. You know how he hates that."
Elaine's choked laughter spread warmth through his limbs, his own smile less artificial, more real in response. He could picture Elaine at this moment, standing in the kitchen with the boys outside, his father at the store, staring out the back window to his old haunts, the trees and his stone, standing so proud and solitary on the hillside. He knew because he'd seen her before, watching through the glass, towel wrung thin in her hands. She worried, he knew that, hated his career, hated his path in life and following in their mother's steps. She hated Torchwood and Avalon, she hated the alien forces.
But she loved her brother. Ianto knew that, had caught her staring at the stone so often he'd at first believed her obsessed until he realized it represented him when she could not see him, she could watch the stone and protect the memory, even if she couldn't protect her brother.
He knew she stood there now, staring out that kitchen window, watching the stone he always retreated to as a kid, watching her brother as she remembered.
"Fluffy kitties on my next birthday cake, Elle," Ianto all but whispered, his voice breaking on the reminder as it hadn't before, not in front of the team and never in front of Elaine. He was the strong one, standing tall and steady in the face of Gavin's death, not speechless and cracking as now. He was Elaine's support, not this mess he'd become. He shouldn't even be looking to her for anything, for any hint of reassurance or comfort.
But fuck if he wasn't, clutching the mobile like a lifeline, seeing her standing there at the window, towel twisted within her hands, watching out the window when he'd promised, even as a kid, standing on top of that stone that he'd protect her like a big brother ought, repeating it again after Gavin died and he'd felt the weight of guilt upon his shoulders.
Fuck if he didn't need her reassurance. That he was doing the right thing. That Stephen's death meant something and betraying Jack was worth it. Tell him that going to that ship was the right thing to do. Tell him he wasn't making a mistake.
She couldn't; he knew that. But that didn't mean he didn't want it.
"I love you so much, Ianto."
Elaine's voice sounded so close, so close he could almost smell her perfume. But Ianto knew she was at their father's, watching over the boys, far, far away from this disaster brewing in Cardiff. She'd take care of them, the boys and her father, he knew she would. If this mission were to fail, she was strong. Hell, she might even take over for him, and wouldn't that be something. She'd survive, because that was the woman she was. Strength and beauty. Grace and intelligence, a mother and a fighter. She understood and wasn't telling him not to; she understood and had called to say she loved him.
She was his sister.
"Love you too, Elle." Ianto closed his mobile before he said anything more or before Elaine could actually voice her doubts or fears. He swallowed, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as he stared at the communications device in his hand, stating the end of the conversation and the time it took to fully speak silence.
His family was safe.
He knew they were safe.
Ianto didn't look at the others, had relatively brushed them from thought as he pushed past to walk aimlessly around the Hub, staring at the blinking numbers indicating how long it had taken to speak volumes of a lifetime spent together.
A lifetime of family in four minutes, twenty-eight seconds.
End conversation. Blinking over and over before the light finally extinguished and the reminder stopped.
Four minutes, twenty-eight seconds to quantify his love for his family.
End conversation.
End conversation.
With a curse, Ianto threw his mobile at the water tower, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as it splashed through the water and split into pieces against the metal only to drown a miserable death in the shallow pool surrounding the tower.
Shite, that might have been the last time he spoke with his sister. Had he said everything he meant? Did she know? Had he been the brother she'd wanted and needed?
He ran his hands through his hair, pacing to and fro in front of the tower, torn between confidence and doubt, a study of certain melt down if any were to be painted. Ianto knew he wasn't acting a leader; he should be rallying the team, stimulating new thoughts, new ideas, encouraging and building confidence.
Or at least acting like he wasn't going to die. That they'd have a plan.
Instead, Ianto's front had been shattered by the call he knew was coming and had been avoiding, broken and mangled the calm Torchwood One exterior that was second skin to wear. He was not cut out to do this job, he wasn't cut out to lead anyone, not if tantrums were his response to stress. He shouldn't have sent Jack away, hell, he shouldn't have allowed Stephen to continue posing as Mr. Black. And now, now he was afraid that-
That was it. Fuck, he was scared. Afraid of death, of meeting those dragons and what they had planned, afraid of responsibility, afraid of inaction but afraid of his actions, afraid of what could be and what had been and what was.
But most of all, afraid that he would fail everyone -- his sister, his family, his friends and team, his associates and the world at large.
"Ianto? Are you okay?"
Ianto spun at the feather-light touch on his elbow, Gwen's voice startling him from his self-recrimination. He smiled, mostly at her wary approach; she must have drawn the short straw and given their earlier encounter, he didn't imagine he was at the top of her list for small talk and platitudes. "I'm fine. I was about to put another pot on, which blend would you prefer?"
He easily read Gwen's disbelief, following her eyes to the water tower before they returned to him. Definitely the short straw.
"That was your sister, yeah?"
She could have answered the question about the coffee, that would have been the preferred line of conversation. Coffee was safe, was comforting. Was habit. "Yes, it was," Ianto finally acceded, hands braced on his hips to staunch any hints of being less than fine. He could feel the weight of the CCTV eyes on him, he knew the conversation was being watched from Tosh's desk, Owen probably watching over her shoulder with Rhys who would be ready to jump into action should his partner attempt to throttle the boss again.
He didn't need to turn and look, he knew his team.
And they apparently knew him better than he had given them credit for.
"About earlier," Gwen began, looking terribly unsure of herself but Ianto wasn't going to give her any assistance. She got to panic, she got to curse and be angry over Jack's absence, like a lover ought but he never had the opportunity to take. He was feeling rather unsympathetic at the moment. "I'm sorry. I was just ... scared, you know?"
Ianto did know the feeling. He'd felt scared shitless since they'd first seen the ship.
"And you agreed to go with those aliens," Gwen continued, reaching out to touch him again but thinking better of it, withdrawing it to cross beneath her breasts in a way Ianto supposed others might find attractive but he just saw it as petulant. "And Jack ... Jack's the only one who could have stopped you from going."
Well, that was different.
Ianto stared at Gwen, her hair slowly regaining length over the weeks so she looked less different and more the Gwen of old. She did make some sense, in a rather narrow view of things. Jack was the only one with power over him to stop him from going; his family would never ask that of him and the rest of the team Ianto believed might try, but would ultimately fail. Jack, however ... Jack would not stand aside and watch him die. He knew she meant well, as she had with Jasmine, but sometimes things surpassed individual needs. Sometimes more was at stake.
This was definitely one of those times, no matter how much Ianto wished it wasn't. "I couldn't allow that to happen, you understand," Ianto soothed, glad for the sound of falling water to mask any awkward silence between them.
"But I don't, Ianto. They killed your mother and they killed Stephen. And you'll just willingly go with them?" Gwen stamped her foot in frustration; Ianto would have smiled if not for the severity of the conversation. "Do you want to die? Is that your plan? Tell me, Ianto, because we can arrange that here loads easier than making us watch you go off with these dragons to be killed where we can't help you."
Ianto rather assumed they intended more than just killing him, as that could have been easily accomplished on Earth, in front of everyone. But he wouldn't tell Gwen that, simply because she might actually dose his coffee with Retcon just to keep him on Earth. "I go willingly, by my choice, because it is my duty and responsibility. This is Torchwood, not games and fast chases, followed up by a trip to the pub for chips and a pint. We are the line of defense for Britain, against all the threats space and time can throw at us. Torchwood One failed because we forgot we were simply tiny little humans playing with a universe we didn't understand. If this is too big, go back to the police, Gwen, where humans get in drunken brawls over money and their wives. But don't dare question my duty, not to Torchwood, and not to Britain."
Gwen looked abashed, but resolute, raising her chin in defiance. "We just need to come up with a way to get you off that ship, then, if you're so determined to go. Steal that disc thing they brought the dragon in with and get you back."
Bloody hell, they'd been so stupid.
Ianto grinned broadly, heart thumping so fast he felt light-headed and weightless. "Gwen, you're a genius." He grabbed her shoulders on impulse and kissed her soundly, realizing after the fact that might have been improper conduct (and far more Jack than he'd like to admit) but not giving a care.
Shite, they should have thought of this long ago.
"Tosh," Ianto ordered, smiling at the dazed Gwen before running up to the desks where the others all stood in various forms of speechlessness, "bring up the reports from yesterday at the Plas. See if you can't separate the noise from the alien signal and extract whatever information you can."
"I suppose I should be angry cause that's my wife you just snogged." Rhys seemed all but angry, in fact, everyone at the work stations seemed to be having problems maintaining a straight face.
Ianto snapped his fingers at Owen, speaking over his shoulder to Rhys. "And a beautifully smart wife she is, too. Owen? Your mobile."
"You're worse than Harkness," Owen grumbled, handing Ianto the mobile. He immediately started punching in the number, Owen's eyes widening as he counted. "Oi, this conversation is being charged to Torchwood."
"All your calls are paid for by Torchwood, even those to Ginger at Fantasy Palace." Ianto smirked as Owen stammered and blushed, though denials about the phone sex line never did surface. A wary 'hello' echoed in his ear reminding Ianto of the purpose of needing the mobile, of course the number wouldn't be recognized. "Sheppard. We have a plan. How soon can you get the Spes Nostra in the air?"
"Depends on what you need her for. Planning on making a run for it across the galaxy?"
Ianto snorted, skimming readouts over Tosh's shoulder. "No, we've been going about this backwards. Tosh will be sending you energy readings and signal mapping for the time we were at the Plas. They transported in. Forget about bringing down the shields, if we can mimic their device, you can get me out and drop off a bomb if negotiations fail."
Sheppard's voice grew muffled, though Ianto could distinctly hear conversation in the background. "McKay says it's an idiot plan that won't work because we're talking a completely alien system."
"You've already got similar tech on board your ship so you won't be reinventing the wheel." Ianto grabbed a set of initial numbers from the printer, he could hear Tosh talking ecstatically in the background; he assumed she had found something. "Besides, I thought you said your McKay was some kind of genius. Between him and my Tosh, I'd say we'll figure it out in the next seven hours."
Barking laughter rang in Ianto's ear, mixing with a muffled rant that Ianto couldn't quite make out, but knew it had something to do with Sheppard relaying Ianto's doubts of McKay's genius. "Send the data. We'll work out a way to pull your skinny ass out of the fire once again. And Ianto," Sheppard's voice lost all the humor from the taunts, "I'm sorry about Stephen."
Ianto clutched the phone a little tighter, smile turning brittle as he could do nothing but agree. "He was a good man. Good friend. I'll have Tosh send you the information." Ianto hung up quickly before Sheppard could say anything else and handed the mobile back to Owen who took it without a word.
There was nothing more to say.
They had seven hours, and for Ianto's sake, they had to be ready.
***
Six hours, fifty-eight minutes later, Torchwood Three strode across the Plas in a strut Ianto believed would have made Jack proud. Ianto led dressed in black, refusing to part with the small confidence wearing Stephen's clothes gave him (though he did snitch a fresh t-shirt from Jack's wardrobe). He'd showered, carefully shaved with Jack's straight-blade, dashes of memory surfacing as he remembered the one time Jack had so carefully shaved him, insisting that he could do a better job with that blade than any electric razor. Ianto wasn't so certain about the truth of that, but it had definitely been far more erotic.
Ianto's hand shook as he wanked, almost violent but definitely desperate, one hand braced on the sink, hating himself for the action as much as he couldn't shake the images and the laughter.
That had been a good night.
Slung over Ianto's shoulder was the cross-shaped weapon, such a heavy device but a comforting weight as it pressed a curve into the fine leather of the jacket. He really preferred this to the handguns strapped at his hips; made a bigger boom, a bigger dent in the sides of things that threatened him or his own.
It'd definitely make a good-sized hole in a dragon.
Or a ship.
Owen and Tosh walked a pace behind him, looking remarkably fierce, Ianto thought. It had been Tosh's idea first, racing home to change before their deadline, returning in the same gear she'd worn the night of Avalon's rescue. She'd returned and Ianto was fairly certain he'd seen Owen's jaw drop; then he collected himself, returning dressed in serious black as well, denims gone, ratty t-shirts nowhere to be seen. It'd amused Ianto, in that lull leading up to three o'clock, when the solution had been found and the tension was building. Everyone had left and returned fresh-looking and showered for the media, a fierce-look donned purely for intimidation.
Intimidation by fashion, the enemy an alien dragon. Life didn't get more ridiculous.
Rhys and Gwen brought up the rear; they'd left as well, spent a bit more time away which led Ianto to think things that he shouldn't be considering about employees. Jack had been a damned bad influence, everything was sex and passion. Though, with those two Ianto supposed it might not be far off the mark.
Ianto fought down that stubborn jealousy a little bit more.
The dragon stood at the far end of the Plas, pretty much where they'd left it nearly twenty-four hours earlier. A smaller figure stood near the dragon; Ianto assumed it was Tiffany. The voice of the alien. God, it made him sick. But a small part of him breathed a guilty sigh of relief; the dragon's presence within his mind had been horrible, if it chose to communicate through another, well, he wasn't one to argue.
He preferred his sanity and his looks in one piece, no matter the understanding shared with the Weevils.
The flashbulbs were blinding, every fraction of a step captured forever in still-frame and motion picture to be shared round the world. Ianto couldn't believe they were still there, despite the carnage of the day before, eagerly awaiting the next sound bite, the next horrifying image, the next gripping story glorifying their lives and punishing their weaknesses.
He enjoyed it better when they were the not-so-secret secret agency and could meet with aliens without requiring a press pass.
Ianto stopped a hundred yards from the dragon, turning to address something he'd forgotten to say at the Hub. Not forgotten so much as neglected, opting for a time when debate was not an option and he could say his peace without disagreement. "Owen? You're in charge while I'm gone. Take care of the team."
The surprise on Owen's face quickly shifted to resolve, a serious nod answering Ianto's request. Gwen protested that it was unnecessary, that Ianto would only be gone a short time, but as Ianto studied Owen's face, he read understanding and a visible shift. Owen had refused when Jack had left the first time, but he was ready. Ianto knew he was. More importantly, Ianto trusted him not to completely fuck up without a guiding hand.
He might fuck up a little, it was Owen Ianto was referring to after all, but not completely.
Saving himself from drawn-out goodbyes and/or speeches which would give credence to his shot nerves and rolling stomach (not to mention the response it might earn from the team. He had been concerned most about a dramatic scene with Owen, but the other man appeared relatively collected. Rather disappointing; a sniping Owen was much easier to deal with than a quiet Owen), Ianto smiled and half-bowed to the team. "Torchwood," Ianto said, more praise than acknowledgment, everything that couldn't be said spoken in the single word. They had a plan, they all knew of the plan. The plan should work. But given he was traveling this side of Jupiter to chat with a bunch of aliens who most likely were engaging in some form of trap for Mr. Black, Ianto believed it wiser to say what he meant before it was possible he might never speak it.
And from the looks on their faces, Torchwood knew it too.
Displaying confidence he certainly did not feel, Ianto straightened with all the pride and arrogance Torchwood One and his mother had taught him. The cross-weapon at the ready, he adopted the Captain Jack Harkness casual-yet-dangerous stride and quickly closed the distance between Torchwood Three and the dragon.
Up close, the beast positively stank of sulfur and wet leather and looked no better in mottled puce than it had at a much safer distance. The dark espresso-roast brown of its underbelly, upon closer inspection, appeared cracked and worn with age, the scales more jagged like teeth, not because they were grown that way, Ianto surmised, but more because they'd simply broken off, like chipped, ridged fingernails left unattended and in sore need of a manicure. The warriors they had fought either must have been younger in age or kept in better care, Ianto was willing to place a wager on the former. This dragon was old, even the scaled hide near its mouth looked dull, its mottling almost like age spots on human skin; it had been perhaps beautiful in its younger years, however far back that may have been.
As Stephen used to say, the older, the wiser. Ianto consciously began reinforcing his mental shields.
"You have kept our appointment, Mr. Black," Tiffany's multi-toned voice rang out in the silence of the Plas, only the occasional cough disrupting the still. Even the birds had found better places to be at this moment than standing with a dragon. "Though typically our negotiations are performed unarmed."
Ianto looked up, the head of the dragon towering at least two stories above his own. The beast had him not only in size, but he'd seen the fire-breathers in action, and while his breath in the morning may be questionable, Ianto knew he lacked any natural defense against a creature such as this. Hence, the weapon on his shoulder, his hand strangling the device in tension and reassurance; ready to move to action should any threat be perceived. It balanced the game, the weapon did, a fire-breathing dragon versus a man with a fire-blasting gun. "You're taller," Ianto drawled as the dragon's head tilted down so the alien could look him in the eye, "I'm compensating."
He swore the rumble he heard roll down the throat of the alien to spread across its belly might have been laughter, another one of those cross-species languages which needed no translation. Ianto had no time to think otherwise as he stepped right next to the beast, hopefully within range of the device which would transport them to the dragon's ship. He turned to look at team Torchwood, standing with weapons drawn and guarding Ianto for what it was worth, before the world around him fractured and dissolved into nothing.
***
The trip was not unlike transportation with Sheppard's device; leaving Ianto slightly disorientated before the floor solidified and felt real beneath his feet. He cautiously sniffed the air, belatedly realizing he should have questioned whether the atmospheric conditions on board the ship would adequately meet a human's needs, but as this was his first venture off Earth, he supposed he was allowed a few mistakes.
He just hoped they were all as minor as this.
The air was stale, tasting slightly metallic but overall seemed breathable as he wasn't growing light-headed or experiencing symptoms of hypoxia. There was a pervasive odor of sulfur, one which tickled the edges of a headache, encouraging its development. Ianto shoved the notion aside, he had no time for headaches. No patience, either.
After reassuring himself that he wouldn't suffocate on-board the dragons' ship, Ianto truly looked around him for the first time. His first impression was 'Fuck. Me.' followed immediately by 'Tosh would be so jealous.' The ship was massive, even from just the single room Ianto saw. Cavernous, might be a better description, Ianto noted as he catalogued the details. The floor and walls were stone-like in appearance, all jagged and chipped edges, shining like polished obsidian. All the doorways were curved, stretching at least thirty feet above his head and appeared to be doorless, though Ianto couldn't be certain if that was merely by design for the room or if the entire ship lacked doors. He calculated the size and shape of the room, estimating it to be similar in size as the main room of the Hub, only this was certainly just one of many rooms given the size of the ship generated by Torchwood's computers.
He was impressed, until he remembered the ship housed dragons, which would explain the overall generous size of the ship.
There were odd indentations in the walls at patterned intervals. The reason why escaped Ianto, knowing nothing about the culture, or even if this was their ship and not one they'd commandeered from another alien species. He even questioned whether he could call it a ship or not, as for all appearances it looked like a hollowed-out asteroid. Maybe the properties of the stone assisted flight of this massive vessel, an explanation how the dragons could move a mass that far and fast despite limits of known physics. Foreign elements, different math and science, a universe of unexplored possibilities Earth had never before seen to even begin considering.
Scattered about, however, was tech, the panels and displays so far above his head he would need rock climbing gear to reach, limiting his options for any sort of escape via hijacking of the ship, one of Tosh's solutions. Overall he felt ... small ... Alice through the looking glass and trapped in a giant world in which he had no place. The tech, though some at towering heights, appeared relatively human-sized, though some of it was really a mash of appearances. He'd only suggested the idea that they could be scavengers to send the team on a goose-chase, however, he may not have been far off the mark. None of the technology he could see fit the design or class of the disk which had transported the three of them to the ship. Some of the panels in the wall looked antiquated compared to the shiny new-ness of other tech, some appeared almost familiar, and others looked completely and literally alien.
Aesthetically, the decor clashed and was definitely not feng-shui. There wasn't even a plant to be seen.
"I trust my ship meets your standards, Mr. Black."
"It is impressive," Ianto agreed, uncertain if the killing was to begin now or maybe they'd invite him to tea before making threats to his person. He continued looking about, assuming he was in an interior room as there were no windows. Whether there would be windows he wasn't sure; the technology needed for either atmospheric shields or clear paneling that could withstand space travel was complex in the least, although any ship with force shields of the strength of this ship's more than likely possessed the science to create viewing surfaces of the outside.
Unnerving as it was, Ianto wanted to see where he was, the space he was in.
He was currently closer to Jupiter than any human from Earth his century had ever been. He wanted to remember the moment with more than just the visuals of a puce-colored dragon.
"Come, this way."
Tiffany and the dragon turned and exited out one of the doors to his left, leaving Ianto at a slight disadvantage. He hated following like a lost puppy to a kind stranger, but his only other options were to remain in the room or exit out another door, becoming lost or encountering dragons more inclined to eat him upon first sight.
He followed, for lack of a more successful alternate plan.
The floor out of the room was a broad stretch of stone, more than the width of two dragons with sides dropping off to a vast open shaft. Ianto stopped a moment to get his bearings, not trusting himself to maintain balance looking up while walking along what appeared to be an arched causeway. Because up ... up was incredible. 'Up' appeared to stretch for miles, an enormous lit hollow criss-crossed with occasional walkways. Dark doorways speckled the shaft, entrances into deeper recesses of the ship, he assumed, he lost count of the doorways after his estimates entered the thousands. And as he watched, some of the entrances seemed to expand like growing shadows, until the black separated off to become its own entity.
Its own dragon.
Ianto's eyes strained to distinguish them, but eventually his mind caught up with what he was viewing. Dragons. Thousands of dragons, flying from rooms in dizzying formation, diving down through the tunnel past the walkway he was currently on, swooping up in a rush of air as others scaled the heights. Like a shopping mall viewed from a height, people milling about in all directions, rushing about up and down escalators, racing from store to store, a chaotic mass of bodies shifting from place to place.
It didn't take long for Ianto to become extremely off-balanced. The idea that artificial gravity could be accomplishing this while the ship was technically upside-down did not help Ianto's sense of location.
"It helps if you don't look down. Or up for that matter." Tiffany's voice at his side surprised him, partially due to the fact that it was actually Tiffany's voice, not the dragon's, speaking to him. With a quick nod as he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her but the advice was relatively sound, Ianto focused on the path in front of him, quickly catching up to the dragon which had brought him to the ship.
It didn't escape his notice that other dragons arrived as well, trailing behind the trio but breathing so loud Ianto felt like they were just over his shoulder.
Tiffany struggled with the walk, her hand going to the bandage at her side as her breathing grew more labored with the fast pace the humans walked in comparison to the casual stroll the dragon seemed to be enjoying. Ianto ignored it for as long as he could, his anger still bubbling beneath the surface in regards to her responsibility for the death of his mother and others at Avalon, but eventually, when they did not appear to be nearing their destination, he cursed everything from the dragons to idiot children of mad men.
"Some courtesy, please," Ianto bellowed at the dragon in front of him, stopping to assist Tiffany. His skin crawled despite the layers of leather and cotton as he braced her against his side, supporting part of her weight as they continued walking. The dragon in front of them turned to watch their progress, slowing its pace to better accommodate theirs.
That didn't slow the dragons behind them, Ianto noted, their clawed feet clicking their progress on the stone causeway.
Ianto wondered why the aliens walked at all, but then took into account their giant wingspans. While flying might carry them faster from one place to the next, depending on the number of dragons living in this rock, air collisions were a threat.
Or, again, maybe they didn't build this ship and had stolen it from another race who did need to walk.
They arrived at a large room after what felt like hours, but could only have been minutes. Almost immediately, Ianto released Tiffany, refusing to touch her any longer than necessary. Unless it involved throttling and then he might be willing to make an exception, no matter how cruel a person it made him.
The room was huge, eclipsing the one they had transported into by at least a magnitude of three, with an array of levels scattered like a layered waterfall of stone with platforms and cascades of well-worn steps etched into the gleaming stone. At the different levels were dragons of all shapes and colors, though a vast majority were relatively small and in varying degrees of blue shades, some teal, some royal blue, others almost violet but all blue. Crewmen, Ianto surmised, raising new questions about the culture of the creatures and how they were bred if scale-color determined position and authority.
He was momentarily distracted by the sheer number of panels and instruments on each level, what appeared to be massive keyboard and input systems as well as maybe diagnostics and control displays? Ianto assumed they were on the bridge, if there was one on this ship. He couldn't help himself from turning about, taking in the sights and sounds, freezing in place as his carefully controlled exterior finally melted into one of what he assumed must be awe.
It was absolutely beautiful.
An entire side of the bridge was just ... gone. No glass or clear paneling that he could see, just an open hole in the side of the ship, floor to ceiling, like one of those eerily real street chalk drawings where it looks like one would fall into a hole but in reality was just a picture. But this wasn't a painted mural, it wasn't a picture or a snapshot.
It was space.
Lots and lots of space.
Ianto had never seen anything quite like this before, not even the momentary view of Earth he had seen from Sheppard's ship. At the time, he hadn't had the conscious thought to really absorb what he saw, too concerned with the safety of his team and Cardiff to spend wasted on gazing out the window.
This view, however, Ianto felt like he could just ... fall out of if he stepped too close to the edge. Thousands of stars dotted the vast black of space, appearing to twinkle in the vacuum as cosmic mirages fooled his eyes. The brilliant curve of Jupiter graced the far left side, swirling orange and reds looking more vivid and angry than any photograph captured by satellite or telescope. It appeared small, taking up no more than a fourth of the height of the open area, but Ianto felt like he could all but reach out and touch the planet.
But small was nothing in comparison to the shining point in the center of the view area.
Earth.
Ianto knew it was Earth, for logical reasons as well as the blown up image he assumed was real-time, a marbled blue-green-brown-white sphere superimposed on the view area next to it. Alien symbols scrolled in what must have been data gathered by the dragons' sensors, though what it said Ianto hadn't the faintest idea.
He returned his focus to the dot, looking so small and so far away it was hard to believe that was his home. That was his planet; his family was somewhere on that dot of light, possibly watching the heavens for a dot of light signifying the ship he was on, watching down on them. His team, Torchwood, Avalon, god, six billion people were on that tiny little speck.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Tiffany purred next to him, the octaves blending together in her speech signifying that Ianto was once again speaking with the dragon, not the girl, and serving to remind him of the danger he was in. "And so helpless."
Ianto spun to face the puce-colored dragon as a deep rumble was echoed across the cavern. It was the same rumble he'd heard earlier: the dragons were ... laughing. He drew his weapon from his shoulder, aiming it at the puce-dragon who Ianto assumed was some kind of leader aboard the ship as he had yet to see any other who reflected a similar age or authority. "We are anything but helpless."
Again the dragon laughed, the amusement repeated by Tiffany who strolled into view, standing between Ianto and the dragon. "And this is how you begin negotiations on Earth? Your actions are on display for all to see. It would be horrible for the saviour of the humans to display such open hostility when invited as guest aboard a ship, is it not?"
Ianto didn't move, though the name made him flinch. He remembered the broadcast of Michael and the Weevil, breaking through all communications devices and once more cursed the dragon-kind for making this conversation known to the world. His eyes darted about, looking for any kind of recording device, locating what appeared to be a camera, though it appeared far more crystalline in appearance.
He wondered, briefly, if there was a time delay in the relay to Earth and if there wasn't, how exactly that was accomplished.
"You'll pardon me if I don't entirely trust a race which so openly attacked my planet and my people." Ianto replied with equal casualness, focusing his attention once again on the dragon, hand on the trigger of the weapon, itching to pull it and blast the dragon (and the ship) from there to kingdom come, but refraining, if only to continue the plan.
After all, the broadcast made it easier to complete.
"Then it should come at no surprise that you are not trusted as well."
Ianto had never wondered what it would feel like, never stopped to ponder what the sensation would be if one's lungs were ripped from their chest, but as he was driven to his knees he knew without doubt it was something he'd never have to imagine. Fuck, if the shock hadn't made him collapse the pain would have, clawing at his chest, shredding every breath he tried to take but he knew, he somehow knew in the haze of pain that it wasn't his chest, it wasn't even physical. He knew he could still breathe and his lungs were still functioning. He knew but his mind still deflected, protecting itself from acknowledgement of the attack. He knew it was an attack, he was aware as his ears registered a hoarse cry that did not sound as though it came from a dragon.
Him.
God, it was him.
The pain wasn't in his chest, though the initial impact felt like it shattered bone and separated limbs. Fuck, his mind bent and bowed at the pressuring black, the sensation of malevolence so oppressing it threatened to collapse every barrier. Which was what the dragons intended, Ianto knew. He understood that much as his hands clutched his temples as though to block the probing mind, minds.
Plural. Multiple attacks combined in effort.
Fuck it hurt, black talons tearing at his mind.
Long, in vale of fog and mist ...
The TARDIS had barely settled, the whirring sounds of activity still singing her arrival, before Jack burst out of the door, skidding to a halt to get his bearings.
Earth. Cardiff. Plas Roald Dahl. Late-afternoon and winter for all it was cold and dreary, from the clothing fashion of the masses huddled off to the side it was about the time period he left.
Fury shook his hands as stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. Seven days. It had taken seven days just for the Doctor to get up his nerve. "Doctor!" Jack yelled, turning back to the blue Police Box in the middle of the Plas.
Martha Jones exited first, Jack rather liked her for all her spirited femininity, part warrior, part innocence, definitely all beautiful woman. Reminded him of a woman he once knew back at the Agency, a woman if he didn't know was already dead he'd search for her and kill her himself for her involvement. The thought made him glare at the Doctor, hands in his pockets as he waltzed out of the TARDIS like he hadn't a care in the world.
He ought to care. Jack was half tempted to strangle him as well for the secrets he had hidden, the past he'd pretended to not know. If it weren't that the bastard could just regenerate and continue living, Jack would have acted without remorse.
Two years of his memory. The fucker had wiped two years.
Calm settled over Jack as he strode towards the first group of people he saw. Always innately curious, he wondered about the commotion, typically the Plas wasn't this popular except for nights of a good show at the Millennium Centre, but it was far from night time and in late afternoon, a crowd only meant trouble.
Lights flashed as he approached, his coat swirling about his ankles as he walked, presenting a striking picture if there ever was to be one taken of Captain Jack Harkness. He smiled, though he wasn't sure it was a kind smile.
Didn't really care.
A few of the group looked familiar, though their attire raised his eyebrows. They'd never dressed like that for him; though he now remembered seeing Tosh where the same outfit when he was rescued from that pit of torture Torchwood Four had liked to refer to as their Archives. They'd been good, but he'd doled out worse in his past, not that he'd ever admit that to Torchwood Four. Kramer did well enough on his own.
He didn't think of Ianto dying in his arms. He refused to remember ever saying "I love you" to the man, whether he meant it or not. Thinking so just brought the fury back, and he smiled a wolfish grin at the backs of his team. "Hey kids. Where's Ianto?" Jack asked in the most innocent, carefree voice he could manage.
Four figures jumped in comical surprise. Really, he'd taught the team better than that, they should have had at least one person watching their six. Gwen shrieked, the sound making him cringe but she didn't advance like she had during the time he now remembered, maintaining instead a careful distance.
"Is it really you, Jack?" Tosh asked, her voice small and scared.
Jack couldn't be bothered to find out why. "Where is Ianto?" He asked again, smiling sweetly and carefully enunciating his question so there could be no mistake, his honed American accent pristine if not slightly overdone.
Tosh looked at Owen, and something about the look on their faces drove the fury from Jack so quickly it left him breathless. They turned, pointing to the screens they had been watching, media vans, all keyed into the same signal.
Jack stared as Owen spoke. "They found out about the plan almost immediately, chased off Sheppard's ship before the crew could get a lock on his signal." Owen paused, clearing his throat while Jack just watched, Ianto's face covered in a sheen of sweat, his whole body violently shaking as a voice spoke in the background, telling of its delight, telling of the joy it would feel destroying Earth and knowing Mr. Black had witnessed the destruction as he had organized the destruction of their kind.
Telling how it found pleasure breaking him.
"We don't know if they're waiting to destroy Earth before or after they ..." Owen cut himself off, waving a hand at the screen. "He's been giving up things for a while now, his birthday and age, though how the bloody he's done what he's done at thirty ..." Owen shook his head and continued while Jack watched the blood began trickling from Ianto's nose, stress or damage, Jack wasn't certain. "Access codes to the Hub, his mum's true name-"
"What is he protecting?" Jack interrupted, uncrossing his arms to point at the screen. "He's protecting something. That information is useless. What's the other plan?"
Owen looked to Tosh and back to Jack, shrugging. "We only had the one plan. Use their transportation frequency to plant explosives on the ship and get him out. Went balls up once Sheppard's ship was discovered. He had some arms on him, but don't reckon he's capable right now of shooting that old weapon you used on the ship in the bay."
Jack felt fingers of fear crawl down his spine as Ianto suddenly focused on the camera, his eyes clearing to a startling crystal blue. If he weren't immortal, Jack knew the frantic pace of his heart would kill him. "Doctor!"
The spirit in sopor lives ...
Ianto huffed air through his mouth, trying to regain footing within his own mind without retching from the pain. Or passing out as the attacks grew, countless attacks, fuck, how many and how long could he fight them off?
Too much to protect. Too much. Fuck, too much. The plan ...
Laughter filled his ears as he felt a bubble burst in his mind, black tar oozing over the thought, ensnaring it, capturing it.
Devouring it.
"A plan, do you?" Tiffany's laughter mocked him, cackling as a dragon roared what had to be emphasis on an order or a thought or a plan. God, the plan. "It's failed, Mr. Black. We've targeted the ship now, the Spes Nostra wasn't it? And altered our shields. There will be no plan, Mr. Black."
As quickly as his struggling mind could manage once he was aware what was happening, Ianto buried himself deep within his own mind, sinking himself away from the surface as he could. Deep, where victims of violence and those who witnessed horrible things hid, that safety net disconnecting them from the experience, where they could protect themselves if not their bodies.
A safe place, buried within layers of memory and thought, sought after by Buddhists and yogi alike, a tranquil place, peace borne of meditation, solace and examination of one's self. Transcendence, they called it, buried beyond layers, carefully crafted to sacrifice the least important to the minds of the dragons.
Let them think they won their victory.
"We will win, Mr. Black. And you will watch as we destroy your Earth." Ianto felt a hand tilt his face towards the open wall, the screen where Earth gleamed a pinprick of light and magnified to marbled brilliance. He could hardly see it, but he knew Earth was there. "A fitting end, don't you think? Watch the world crumble which you united to protect. Those were our kin." Tiffany growled, though Ianto hardly thought that they were any brethren of her, the human's. "We will obliterate it, erase it from time. All those little people, all that history, all that future. Gone."
Tiffany's laughter made Ianto flinch, trying to escape her hand but only drawing the dragon's attention, Tiffany's fingernails digging into his jaw, holding him still. His hands flailed in protest, weakly pushing at her hand, her body, anything he could touch and the dragons' roared behind him but it worked.
Distraction.
Deep within his mind, Ianto planned, smiling when he could not physically smile.
The device was small, flat, pebble-like. Probably why it was missed when his weapons were stripped after falling to the floor. Fit small within his hand, a tiny, innocuous blue-tinged skipping stone he'd stuck in his pocket ages ago in Jack's office.
Arm ... he had to arm ...
Ianto felt another wall pop, could almost visually see it go, a dam cracking under pressure. "Ah, you are young, Mr. Black. Just a fledgling attempting to do an adult's job. Born March 28th, 1978 to a Viviene, is it? That makes you a child." Tiffany's nails scored his skin, digging painfully deep into his jaw but he almost welcomed the distraction from the chaos of his mind. "I will enjoy breaking you, once Earth has been destroyed. You and all your precious secrets."
He would have liked to clarify the dragon's statements, as it wasn't only that dragon's mind battering his -- that he could have withstood, a single attack. Had, in fact. But he couldn't, his fingers curling around the flat pebble in his hand, slowly flipping a corner of the device. The weight of the minds battering his crushed the ability to speak, he could remember speaking once, the tongue sounding so foreign to his ears but he knew he had.
Once.
Another dam burst. Ianto was fairly certain he cried. Not great sobs, that would require focus beyond the skipping stone, that would have required him to feel beyond the barriers of his mind but he couldn't, not for lack of tears streaming down his face while his body trembled at the force being used.
"Torchwood Three access codes!" Tiffany sang with glee, Ianto felt her smearing the blood on his chin but he brushed the thought aside, washing it away with all the other trivial thoughts which flowed past, mere ripples in the calm pond. Ripples. Skipping stones.
He flipped another edge, spinning the corners in its specific code.
A code he remembered, beneath river and sand, buried deep in corners of his mind of which he had no knowledge.
Buried deep whereupon he found himself.
Tiffany laughed as the dragons roared, barriers and walls falling quicker than he could protect. Memories of Lisa camping, of Stephen training him to fence, his mother teaching him manners, Jack kissing him, bringing him back to life. The more that fell to the sickening slime that ate its way through his mind, the more he fought, stress and resistance pulling his muscles taunt, splintering and pulling at his mind until even his toes curled in protest of the invasion, feeding strength through sheer desperation than by any physical help.
"We are arming our weapon now. Say goodbye to your pretty little world, Mr. Black. Smile, the world watches your failure. Earth. Is. Lost."
The last corner flipped.
Ianto raised his head, independent of Tiffany's hand, deep calm and acceptance brushing aside the dragon minds with casual thought. His gaze fell on the camera, knowing Earth watched, Earth feared as the threats of complete annihilation filtered through to any and all listening. He didn't doubt the dragons, he was sure they'd scavenged technology across space and time which would permit such an action, such ultimate destruction as to erase a world from both time and space.
Most likely illegal in any galaxy, which left him with no remorse for his actions and little doubt for the purpose of bringing him to the ship.
"No," Ianto stated clearly, smiling as he stood. The dragons roared in a panic around him; Tiffany screamed in his ear as her hands clawed at him in an action more apt to taloned dragon claws, not human nails. This wasn't supposed to happen. This went contrary to their plans.
But it was his plans, his family, it was the six billion people on earth and Jack who floated sometime in-between. It was his love for his people, his love for his family, the love for all that were and that were to be, unborn yet cherished in the eons of Earth from beginning to end. It was his love for Jack, born three thousand years from now to live in yesterday.
It was his choice.
"No," Ianto repeated, standing tall as he felt the wind whip at his back, the smile broad upon his face. "Earth lives."
In time r'turns, with love combine ...
"Doctor!" Jack desperately grabbed at the man's jacket, manhandling him away from the screens, away from Ianto whose eyes burned so fiercely blue Jack could feel him staring into his soul. "Get me up there now! We still have time!"
"Jack?" Owen's voice pulled him away from the struggle trying to get the Doctor in the TARDIS, more easily said than done as the Doctor was a most wily character and slipped out of his grasp while Jack was distracted.
Distracted in time to catch the radiance of Ianto's smile, the certainty by which he spoke.
"Earth lives."
Ianto's beautiful smile.
The screens switched harshly to static, black and white snow racing across and down and every scattered direction as the signal was lost. Jack fought around that conscious thought; a signal lost meant nothing, meant absolutely nothing.
Meant nothing. Nothing until the heavens paused, the world stilled as though by a mighty hand, waiting, waiting on the edge of something. Something ... something erupted into flame, a fireball so brilliant it dimmed the sun as it went from pinprick to shattered light streaking across the skyline, shooting lengthwise to span its touch across the horizon.
No.
No.
"Take me back!" Jack shouted as he wrapped his hands in the Doctor's jacket, twisting them until they lifted the man off the ground, slamming him into the TARDIS. He felt Martha beside him, maybe the rest of the team too, but they would not stop him. "This is the wrong time! Take me back. I can still save him." His voice cracked, pitching up far sharper than anything he ever spoke but it didn't matter, none of it did.
He didn't remember a time when he had heard those same words spoken, didn't consider the time when Ianto had plead with tears in his eyes, calling him a monster.
Jack didn't think about the denial he had given.
Calm eyes stared back into his, despite trainers dangling as he was forcibly held against the TARDIS. "I can't do that, Jack." The Doctor said with regret, holding aloft a slip of paper which bore a script Jack instantly recognized.
Dropping the Doctor, Jack grabbed the slip of paper: a requisition slip dated just days ago but frail with age. Hands trembling, Jack smoothed his thumb over the hasty scrawl.
Doctor,
Captain Jack Harkness will find you following his battle with Abbadon.
Protect this as you would your kin until then.
15:15 P.M., December 31st, 2008
I love him.
In your debt,
Ianto Jones
Jack's hand shook, dropping the paper which Martha quickly retrieved before it could blow away. Of course the Doctor couldn't go back. Not after directed and such a small jump. He'd cross timelines or something universe-shattering. Hell, Jack doubted the TARDIS would even take him back, just fifteen minutes, thirty at the most, a skip in the pond as ripples swam about him. It was nothing, fifteen minutes.
And yet Ianto had asked for it. Asked the Doctor for it. Probably because he knew Jack better than Jack knew himself.
Fuck.
"Fuck!" Jack echoed, shouting at the skies which served no purpose other than to release whatever it was that he couldn't feel. He shouldn't. Not if he were immortal, living the span of many Iantos. Iantos would come and go and he would live on.
Iantos wouldn't.
Ianto couldn't.
"Forever," Jack had told Elaine, curled up against Ianto while he slept, holding him tight after nightmares had plagued him, promising Ianto while he slept, "I'm with you, I am always with you, on every curve and coil."
Forever.
Jack stared up at the sky, ignoring the weeping of those around him and settling for the cold comfort of grief to wrap around himself, solitary, standing alone against the sky until the atmosphere burst into flares of light, fragments of ship the size of a moon bidding farewell as the sun sank to slumber.
"I won't let you go."
Choking back a sob, muffled against the greatcoat Ianto had loved so much, Jack wept in time with the falling of the heavens, for promises failed and the forever never lived.
Chasing time to save victory, sorrow rains while light doth shine.
Next Chapter
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien, fivealive
Summary: Meet Mr. Black
Warnings: This is a heavy chapter. Grab a glass of wine and enjoy. :) Highlight for Warnings-may contain spoilers: * Character Death*
A/N: Much as last chapter, this is a mammoth, gi-normous chapter - ranging somewhere in the 20k-30k word range *g* edit: clocking in at 28k words *g*. But, as last chapter, it needs to stay together. Here is Part 3 due to size and LJ limits. 1 chapter left!
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)
S2: Chap 6, SoI 21
S2: Chap 7, SoI 22
Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 1)
Blue-Tinged Skipping Stone (S2: Chap 8, SoI 23, Part 2)
The conversations with various world leaders had gone precisely as Ianto had assumed (and feared) -- on the one hand, outrage over the dragons' audacity following the invasion of Earth, on the other, a significant curiosity and interest in their technology. Some had outright refused a dragon stepping foot on Earth's soil, much less a restricted portion of their land, others had appeared willing to compromise.
If the dragons' intent was honest, Ianto might be willing to negotiate.
However, odds were not exactly in their favor and he no longer had Jack to give him a blow job for being right.
But he wasn't going to think about Jack. He couldn't.
So they all stood around Tosh's computers, Owen throwing paper balls into a bin (missing seventy-three percent of the time), a very quiet Gwen and Rhys reading through file upon file for an answer, Tosh hadn't moved from her chair except to visit the loo, and Ianto had finally made his last call. It was approaching seven in the morning; they had been up all night (the team outright ignoring Ianto's request that they get some sleep) and were no closer to an answer or even a theory than before.
They had roughly eight hours.
Desperation had found its home.
"What if we capture the alien, take it hostage and demand they leave."
Everyone turned to Owen and stared. Ianto wondered if it was time to put on another pot of coffee, the earlier whips of heads as the ideas had grown more and more ridiculous had grown to slow stares as time had crept forward.
They were saved from responding in any fashion (acknowledging the craziness of the idea and giving it credence) when Ianto's phone rang. A quick glance at the name and number left Ianto closing his eyes in protest of what he saw and an overwhelming sadness for the conversation that was to follow. It rang again, drawing questions from the team, before he answered. "Elaine."
"Ianto."
He should move, he couldn't have this conversation in front of everyone. But at the same time, all of his coffee-fueled energy had drained from his body leaving him rooted in place, clutching his mobile like a security blanket while the others looked at each other trying to figure out the relationship of the mystery caller.
There was silence on both ends of the line. Ianto knew his responsibilities, as did Elaine. Hell, they'd lost their mother to these things and now they had a new target. What was there to say? It was so easy to pretend with the others, to put on a front (sorely being disintegrated at the moment given the call) of belief in success. That they'd find a plan. That somehow, Ianto would get out of this mess and return to the Hub to deal with the paperwork. That's how it should be. That's how Torchwood Three acted. They'd faced a similar situation before, but Jack couldn't be killed and rose days later, a veritable modern-day Lazarus.
Expect the impossible.
Rely on the unexpected and blind luck.
That was the Torchwood way.
He couldn't lie and pretend like that to his sister. She knew him better than that and not even coffee and the smell of pipe smoke could make the situation any better. She'd lost a husband and a mother to Torchwood. And now, her brother was threatened. What was he supposed to say? They had no bloody plan, he couldn't even pretend they did. He'd have to go with the dragon to a ship in orbit just this side of Jupiter and he had no fucking idea how he'd ever get back home.
What could he say?
Ianto stared up at the high ceiling of the Hub, the mobile dangling in his fingertips as the stone appeared to swim, fighting against the grief of the past twenty-four hours so ruthlessly shoved aside in search for an answer to his small problem, fighting against losing the ones he loved and fighting equally as hard the need to protect the same.
Fighting. God, he was always fighting something.
Maybe the aliens truly wanted to negotiate. At which time Ianto might agree to supplying a few resources if only to get the dragons on their way. This stress and worry proving as unnecessary as sending Jack back to ... whenever he was taken. Maybe this preparation had all been for naught.
Much like the faeries, life didn't play fair. Torchwood didn't play fair.
And Ianto knew that, as did his sister.
"Give Bryce and Gareth a kiss for me," Ianto finally said once he was certain his voice would hold steady. "Make sure ..." He cut himself off, not wanting to voice anything like he was giving up. He wasn't. Torchwood had an amazing track record for success in the face of improbable situations. Ianto could hear his sister's sniffles on the other line and bit back an admonishment. Bravery for Bryce and Gareth's sakes, that was just ridiculous. They understood far more than most kids their age and maybe, just maybe they'd think their uncle might be with their father. "Da' too. You know how he hates that."
Elaine's choked laughter spread warmth through his limbs, his own smile less artificial, more real in response. He could picture Elaine at this moment, standing in the kitchen with the boys outside, his father at the store, staring out the back window to his old haunts, the trees and his stone, standing so proud and solitary on the hillside. He knew because he'd seen her before, watching through the glass, towel wrung thin in her hands. She worried, he knew that, hated his career, hated his path in life and following in their mother's steps. She hated Torchwood and Avalon, she hated the alien forces.
But she loved her brother. Ianto knew that, had caught her staring at the stone so often he'd at first believed her obsessed until he realized it represented him when she could not see him, she could watch the stone and protect the memory, even if she couldn't protect her brother.
He knew she stood there now, staring out that kitchen window, watching the stone he always retreated to as a kid, watching her brother as she remembered.
"Fluffy kitties on my next birthday cake, Elle," Ianto all but whispered, his voice breaking on the reminder as it hadn't before, not in front of the team and never in front of Elaine. He was the strong one, standing tall and steady in the face of Gavin's death, not speechless and cracking as now. He was Elaine's support, not this mess he'd become. He shouldn't even be looking to her for anything, for any hint of reassurance or comfort.
But fuck if he wasn't, clutching the mobile like a lifeline, seeing her standing there at the window, towel twisted within her hands, watching out the window when he'd promised, even as a kid, standing on top of that stone that he'd protect her like a big brother ought, repeating it again after Gavin died and he'd felt the weight of guilt upon his shoulders.
Fuck if he didn't need her reassurance. That he was doing the right thing. That Stephen's death meant something and betraying Jack was worth it. Tell him that going to that ship was the right thing to do. Tell him he wasn't making a mistake.
She couldn't; he knew that. But that didn't mean he didn't want it.
"I love you so much, Ianto."
Elaine's voice sounded so close, so close he could almost smell her perfume. But Ianto knew she was at their father's, watching over the boys, far, far away from this disaster brewing in Cardiff. She'd take care of them, the boys and her father, he knew she would. If this mission were to fail, she was strong. Hell, she might even take over for him, and wouldn't that be something. She'd survive, because that was the woman she was. Strength and beauty. Grace and intelligence, a mother and a fighter. She understood and wasn't telling him not to; she understood and had called to say she loved him.
She was his sister.
"Love you too, Elle." Ianto closed his mobile before he said anything more or before Elaine could actually voice her doubts or fears. He swallowed, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as he stared at the communications device in his hand, stating the end of the conversation and the time it took to fully speak silence.
His family was safe.
He knew they were safe.
Ianto didn't look at the others, had relatively brushed them from thought as he pushed past to walk aimlessly around the Hub, staring at the blinking numbers indicating how long it had taken to speak volumes of a lifetime spent together.
A lifetime of family in four minutes, twenty-eight seconds.
End conversation. Blinking over and over before the light finally extinguished and the reminder stopped.
Four minutes, twenty-eight seconds to quantify his love for his family.
End conversation.
End conversation.
With a curse, Ianto threw his mobile at the water tower, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as it splashed through the water and split into pieces against the metal only to drown a miserable death in the shallow pool surrounding the tower.
Shite, that might have been the last time he spoke with his sister. Had he said everything he meant? Did she know? Had he been the brother she'd wanted and needed?
He ran his hands through his hair, pacing to and fro in front of the tower, torn between confidence and doubt, a study of certain melt down if any were to be painted. Ianto knew he wasn't acting a leader; he should be rallying the team, stimulating new thoughts, new ideas, encouraging and building confidence.
Or at least acting like he wasn't going to die. That they'd have a plan.
Instead, Ianto's front had been shattered by the call he knew was coming and had been avoiding, broken and mangled the calm Torchwood One exterior that was second skin to wear. He was not cut out to do this job, he wasn't cut out to lead anyone, not if tantrums were his response to stress. He shouldn't have sent Jack away, hell, he shouldn't have allowed Stephen to continue posing as Mr. Black. And now, now he was afraid that-
That was it. Fuck, he was scared. Afraid of death, of meeting those dragons and what they had planned, afraid of responsibility, afraid of inaction but afraid of his actions, afraid of what could be and what had been and what was.
But most of all, afraid that he would fail everyone -- his sister, his family, his friends and team, his associates and the world at large.
"Ianto? Are you okay?"
Ianto spun at the feather-light touch on his elbow, Gwen's voice startling him from his self-recrimination. He smiled, mostly at her wary approach; she must have drawn the short straw and given their earlier encounter, he didn't imagine he was at the top of her list for small talk and platitudes. "I'm fine. I was about to put another pot on, which blend would you prefer?"
He easily read Gwen's disbelief, following her eyes to the water tower before they returned to him. Definitely the short straw.
"That was your sister, yeah?"
She could have answered the question about the coffee, that would have been the preferred line of conversation. Coffee was safe, was comforting. Was habit. "Yes, it was," Ianto finally acceded, hands braced on his hips to staunch any hints of being less than fine. He could feel the weight of the CCTV eyes on him, he knew the conversation was being watched from Tosh's desk, Owen probably watching over her shoulder with Rhys who would be ready to jump into action should his partner attempt to throttle the boss again.
He didn't need to turn and look, he knew his team.
And they apparently knew him better than he had given them credit for.
"About earlier," Gwen began, looking terribly unsure of herself but Ianto wasn't going to give her any assistance. She got to panic, she got to curse and be angry over Jack's absence, like a lover ought but he never had the opportunity to take. He was feeling rather unsympathetic at the moment. "I'm sorry. I was just ... scared, you know?"
Ianto did know the feeling. He'd felt scared shitless since they'd first seen the ship.
"And you agreed to go with those aliens," Gwen continued, reaching out to touch him again but thinking better of it, withdrawing it to cross beneath her breasts in a way Ianto supposed others might find attractive but he just saw it as petulant. "And Jack ... Jack's the only one who could have stopped you from going."
Well, that was different.
Ianto stared at Gwen, her hair slowly regaining length over the weeks so she looked less different and more the Gwen of old. She did make some sense, in a rather narrow view of things. Jack was the only one with power over him to stop him from going; his family would never ask that of him and the rest of the team Ianto believed might try, but would ultimately fail. Jack, however ... Jack would not stand aside and watch him die. He knew she meant well, as she had with Jasmine, but sometimes things surpassed individual needs. Sometimes more was at stake.
This was definitely one of those times, no matter how much Ianto wished it wasn't. "I couldn't allow that to happen, you understand," Ianto soothed, glad for the sound of falling water to mask any awkward silence between them.
"But I don't, Ianto. They killed your mother and they killed Stephen. And you'll just willingly go with them?" Gwen stamped her foot in frustration; Ianto would have smiled if not for the severity of the conversation. "Do you want to die? Is that your plan? Tell me, Ianto, because we can arrange that here loads easier than making us watch you go off with these dragons to be killed where we can't help you."
Ianto rather assumed they intended more than just killing him, as that could have been easily accomplished on Earth, in front of everyone. But he wouldn't tell Gwen that, simply because she might actually dose his coffee with Retcon just to keep him on Earth. "I go willingly, by my choice, because it is my duty and responsibility. This is Torchwood, not games and fast chases, followed up by a trip to the pub for chips and a pint. We are the line of defense for Britain, against all the threats space and time can throw at us. Torchwood One failed because we forgot we were simply tiny little humans playing with a universe we didn't understand. If this is too big, go back to the police, Gwen, where humans get in drunken brawls over money and their wives. But don't dare question my duty, not to Torchwood, and not to Britain."
Gwen looked abashed, but resolute, raising her chin in defiance. "We just need to come up with a way to get you off that ship, then, if you're so determined to go. Steal that disc thing they brought the dragon in with and get you back."
Bloody hell, they'd been so stupid.
Ianto grinned broadly, heart thumping so fast he felt light-headed and weightless. "Gwen, you're a genius." He grabbed her shoulders on impulse and kissed her soundly, realizing after the fact that might have been improper conduct (and far more Jack than he'd like to admit) but not giving a care.
Shite, they should have thought of this long ago.
"Tosh," Ianto ordered, smiling at the dazed Gwen before running up to the desks where the others all stood in various forms of speechlessness, "bring up the reports from yesterday at the Plas. See if you can't separate the noise from the alien signal and extract whatever information you can."
"I suppose I should be angry cause that's my wife you just snogged." Rhys seemed all but angry, in fact, everyone at the work stations seemed to be having problems maintaining a straight face.
Ianto snapped his fingers at Owen, speaking over his shoulder to Rhys. "And a beautifully smart wife she is, too. Owen? Your mobile."
"You're worse than Harkness," Owen grumbled, handing Ianto the mobile. He immediately started punching in the number, Owen's eyes widening as he counted. "Oi, this conversation is being charged to Torchwood."
"All your calls are paid for by Torchwood, even those to Ginger at Fantasy Palace." Ianto smirked as Owen stammered and blushed, though denials about the phone sex line never did surface. A wary 'hello' echoed in his ear reminding Ianto of the purpose of needing the mobile, of course the number wouldn't be recognized. "Sheppard. We have a plan. How soon can you get the Spes Nostra in the air?"
"Depends on what you need her for. Planning on making a run for it across the galaxy?"
Ianto snorted, skimming readouts over Tosh's shoulder. "No, we've been going about this backwards. Tosh will be sending you energy readings and signal mapping for the time we were at the Plas. They transported in. Forget about bringing down the shields, if we can mimic their device, you can get me out and drop off a bomb if negotiations fail."
Sheppard's voice grew muffled, though Ianto could distinctly hear conversation in the background. "McKay says it's an idiot plan that won't work because we're talking a completely alien system."
"You've already got similar tech on board your ship so you won't be reinventing the wheel." Ianto grabbed a set of initial numbers from the printer, he could hear Tosh talking ecstatically in the background; he assumed she had found something. "Besides, I thought you said your McKay was some kind of genius. Between him and my Tosh, I'd say we'll figure it out in the next seven hours."
Barking laughter rang in Ianto's ear, mixing with a muffled rant that Ianto couldn't quite make out, but knew it had something to do with Sheppard relaying Ianto's doubts of McKay's genius. "Send the data. We'll work out a way to pull your skinny ass out of the fire once again. And Ianto," Sheppard's voice lost all the humor from the taunts, "I'm sorry about Stephen."
Ianto clutched the phone a little tighter, smile turning brittle as he could do nothing but agree. "He was a good man. Good friend. I'll have Tosh send you the information." Ianto hung up quickly before Sheppard could say anything else and handed the mobile back to Owen who took it without a word.
There was nothing more to say.
They had seven hours, and for Ianto's sake, they had to be ready.
***
Six hours, fifty-eight minutes later, Torchwood Three strode across the Plas in a strut Ianto believed would have made Jack proud. Ianto led dressed in black, refusing to part with the small confidence wearing Stephen's clothes gave him (though he did snitch a fresh t-shirt from Jack's wardrobe). He'd showered, carefully shaved with Jack's straight-blade, dashes of memory surfacing as he remembered the one time Jack had so carefully shaved him, insisting that he could do a better job with that blade than any electric razor. Ianto wasn't so certain about the truth of that, but it had definitely been far more erotic.
Ianto's hand shook as he wanked, almost violent but definitely desperate, one hand braced on the sink, hating himself for the action as much as he couldn't shake the images and the laughter.
That had been a good night.
Slung over Ianto's shoulder was the cross-shaped weapon, such a heavy device but a comforting weight as it pressed a curve into the fine leather of the jacket. He really preferred this to the handguns strapped at his hips; made a bigger boom, a bigger dent in the sides of things that threatened him or his own.
It'd definitely make a good-sized hole in a dragon.
Or a ship.
Owen and Tosh walked a pace behind him, looking remarkably fierce, Ianto thought. It had been Tosh's idea first, racing home to change before their deadline, returning in the same gear she'd worn the night of Avalon's rescue. She'd returned and Ianto was fairly certain he'd seen Owen's jaw drop; then he collected himself, returning dressed in serious black as well, denims gone, ratty t-shirts nowhere to be seen. It'd amused Ianto, in that lull leading up to three o'clock, when the solution had been found and the tension was building. Everyone had left and returned fresh-looking and showered for the media, a fierce-look donned purely for intimidation.
Intimidation by fashion, the enemy an alien dragon. Life didn't get more ridiculous.
Rhys and Gwen brought up the rear; they'd left as well, spent a bit more time away which led Ianto to think things that he shouldn't be considering about employees. Jack had been a damned bad influence, everything was sex and passion. Though, with those two Ianto supposed it might not be far off the mark.
Ianto fought down that stubborn jealousy a little bit more.
The dragon stood at the far end of the Plas, pretty much where they'd left it nearly twenty-four hours earlier. A smaller figure stood near the dragon; Ianto assumed it was Tiffany. The voice of the alien. God, it made him sick. But a small part of him breathed a guilty sigh of relief; the dragon's presence within his mind had been horrible, if it chose to communicate through another, well, he wasn't one to argue.
He preferred his sanity and his looks in one piece, no matter the understanding shared with the Weevils.
The flashbulbs were blinding, every fraction of a step captured forever in still-frame and motion picture to be shared round the world. Ianto couldn't believe they were still there, despite the carnage of the day before, eagerly awaiting the next sound bite, the next horrifying image, the next gripping story glorifying their lives and punishing their weaknesses.
He enjoyed it better when they were the not-so-secret secret agency and could meet with aliens without requiring a press pass.
Ianto stopped a hundred yards from the dragon, turning to address something he'd forgotten to say at the Hub. Not forgotten so much as neglected, opting for a time when debate was not an option and he could say his peace without disagreement. "Owen? You're in charge while I'm gone. Take care of the team."
The surprise on Owen's face quickly shifted to resolve, a serious nod answering Ianto's request. Gwen protested that it was unnecessary, that Ianto would only be gone a short time, but as Ianto studied Owen's face, he read understanding and a visible shift. Owen had refused when Jack had left the first time, but he was ready. Ianto knew he was. More importantly, Ianto trusted him not to completely fuck up without a guiding hand.
He might fuck up a little, it was Owen Ianto was referring to after all, but not completely.
Saving himself from drawn-out goodbyes and/or speeches which would give credence to his shot nerves and rolling stomach (not to mention the response it might earn from the team. He had been concerned most about a dramatic scene with Owen, but the other man appeared relatively collected. Rather disappointing; a sniping Owen was much easier to deal with than a quiet Owen), Ianto smiled and half-bowed to the team. "Torchwood," Ianto said, more praise than acknowledgment, everything that couldn't be said spoken in the single word. They had a plan, they all knew of the plan. The plan should work. But given he was traveling this side of Jupiter to chat with a bunch of aliens who most likely were engaging in some form of trap for Mr. Black, Ianto believed it wiser to say what he meant before it was possible he might never speak it.
And from the looks on their faces, Torchwood knew it too.
Displaying confidence he certainly did not feel, Ianto straightened with all the pride and arrogance Torchwood One and his mother had taught him. The cross-weapon at the ready, he adopted the Captain Jack Harkness casual-yet-dangerous stride and quickly closed the distance between Torchwood Three and the dragon.
Up close, the beast positively stank of sulfur and wet leather and looked no better in mottled puce than it had at a much safer distance. The dark espresso-roast brown of its underbelly, upon closer inspection, appeared cracked and worn with age, the scales more jagged like teeth, not because they were grown that way, Ianto surmised, but more because they'd simply broken off, like chipped, ridged fingernails left unattended and in sore need of a manicure. The warriors they had fought either must have been younger in age or kept in better care, Ianto was willing to place a wager on the former. This dragon was old, even the scaled hide near its mouth looked dull, its mottling almost like age spots on human skin; it had been perhaps beautiful in its younger years, however far back that may have been.
As Stephen used to say, the older, the wiser. Ianto consciously began reinforcing his mental shields.
"You have kept our appointment, Mr. Black," Tiffany's multi-toned voice rang out in the silence of the Plas, only the occasional cough disrupting the still. Even the birds had found better places to be at this moment than standing with a dragon. "Though typically our negotiations are performed unarmed."
Ianto looked up, the head of the dragon towering at least two stories above his own. The beast had him not only in size, but he'd seen the fire-breathers in action, and while his breath in the morning may be questionable, Ianto knew he lacked any natural defense against a creature such as this. Hence, the weapon on his shoulder, his hand strangling the device in tension and reassurance; ready to move to action should any threat be perceived. It balanced the game, the weapon did, a fire-breathing dragon versus a man with a fire-blasting gun. "You're taller," Ianto drawled as the dragon's head tilted down so the alien could look him in the eye, "I'm compensating."
He swore the rumble he heard roll down the throat of the alien to spread across its belly might have been laughter, another one of those cross-species languages which needed no translation. Ianto had no time to think otherwise as he stepped right next to the beast, hopefully within range of the device which would transport them to the dragon's ship. He turned to look at team Torchwood, standing with weapons drawn and guarding Ianto for what it was worth, before the world around him fractured and dissolved into nothing.
***
The trip was not unlike transportation with Sheppard's device; leaving Ianto slightly disorientated before the floor solidified and felt real beneath his feet. He cautiously sniffed the air, belatedly realizing he should have questioned whether the atmospheric conditions on board the ship would adequately meet a human's needs, but as this was his first venture off Earth, he supposed he was allowed a few mistakes.
He just hoped they were all as minor as this.
The air was stale, tasting slightly metallic but overall seemed breathable as he wasn't growing light-headed or experiencing symptoms of hypoxia. There was a pervasive odor of sulfur, one which tickled the edges of a headache, encouraging its development. Ianto shoved the notion aside, he had no time for headaches. No patience, either.
After reassuring himself that he wouldn't suffocate on-board the dragons' ship, Ianto truly looked around him for the first time. His first impression was 'Fuck. Me.' followed immediately by 'Tosh would be so jealous.' The ship was massive, even from just the single room Ianto saw. Cavernous, might be a better description, Ianto noted as he catalogued the details. The floor and walls were stone-like in appearance, all jagged and chipped edges, shining like polished obsidian. All the doorways were curved, stretching at least thirty feet above his head and appeared to be doorless, though Ianto couldn't be certain if that was merely by design for the room or if the entire ship lacked doors. He calculated the size and shape of the room, estimating it to be similar in size as the main room of the Hub, only this was certainly just one of many rooms given the size of the ship generated by Torchwood's computers.
He was impressed, until he remembered the ship housed dragons, which would explain the overall generous size of the ship.
There were odd indentations in the walls at patterned intervals. The reason why escaped Ianto, knowing nothing about the culture, or even if this was their ship and not one they'd commandeered from another alien species. He even questioned whether he could call it a ship or not, as for all appearances it looked like a hollowed-out asteroid. Maybe the properties of the stone assisted flight of this massive vessel, an explanation how the dragons could move a mass that far and fast despite limits of known physics. Foreign elements, different math and science, a universe of unexplored possibilities Earth had never before seen to even begin considering.
Scattered about, however, was tech, the panels and displays so far above his head he would need rock climbing gear to reach, limiting his options for any sort of escape via hijacking of the ship, one of Tosh's solutions. Overall he felt ... small ... Alice through the looking glass and trapped in a giant world in which he had no place. The tech, though some at towering heights, appeared relatively human-sized, though some of it was really a mash of appearances. He'd only suggested the idea that they could be scavengers to send the team on a goose-chase, however, he may not have been far off the mark. None of the technology he could see fit the design or class of the disk which had transported the three of them to the ship. Some of the panels in the wall looked antiquated compared to the shiny new-ness of other tech, some appeared almost familiar, and others looked completely and literally alien.
Aesthetically, the decor clashed and was definitely not feng-shui. There wasn't even a plant to be seen.
"I trust my ship meets your standards, Mr. Black."
"It is impressive," Ianto agreed, uncertain if the killing was to begin now or maybe they'd invite him to tea before making threats to his person. He continued looking about, assuming he was in an interior room as there were no windows. Whether there would be windows he wasn't sure; the technology needed for either atmospheric shields or clear paneling that could withstand space travel was complex in the least, although any ship with force shields of the strength of this ship's more than likely possessed the science to create viewing surfaces of the outside.
Unnerving as it was, Ianto wanted to see where he was, the space he was in.
He was currently closer to Jupiter than any human from Earth his century had ever been. He wanted to remember the moment with more than just the visuals of a puce-colored dragon.
"Come, this way."
Tiffany and the dragon turned and exited out one of the doors to his left, leaving Ianto at a slight disadvantage. He hated following like a lost puppy to a kind stranger, but his only other options were to remain in the room or exit out another door, becoming lost or encountering dragons more inclined to eat him upon first sight.
He followed, for lack of a more successful alternate plan.
The floor out of the room was a broad stretch of stone, more than the width of two dragons with sides dropping off to a vast open shaft. Ianto stopped a moment to get his bearings, not trusting himself to maintain balance looking up while walking along what appeared to be an arched causeway. Because up ... up was incredible. 'Up' appeared to stretch for miles, an enormous lit hollow criss-crossed with occasional walkways. Dark doorways speckled the shaft, entrances into deeper recesses of the ship, he assumed, he lost count of the doorways after his estimates entered the thousands. And as he watched, some of the entrances seemed to expand like growing shadows, until the black separated off to become its own entity.
Its own dragon.
Ianto's eyes strained to distinguish them, but eventually his mind caught up with what he was viewing. Dragons. Thousands of dragons, flying from rooms in dizzying formation, diving down through the tunnel past the walkway he was currently on, swooping up in a rush of air as others scaled the heights. Like a shopping mall viewed from a height, people milling about in all directions, rushing about up and down escalators, racing from store to store, a chaotic mass of bodies shifting from place to place.
It didn't take long for Ianto to become extremely off-balanced. The idea that artificial gravity could be accomplishing this while the ship was technically upside-down did not help Ianto's sense of location.
"It helps if you don't look down. Or up for that matter." Tiffany's voice at his side surprised him, partially due to the fact that it was actually Tiffany's voice, not the dragon's, speaking to him. With a quick nod as he didn't trust her as far as he could throw her but the advice was relatively sound, Ianto focused on the path in front of him, quickly catching up to the dragon which had brought him to the ship.
It didn't escape his notice that other dragons arrived as well, trailing behind the trio but breathing so loud Ianto felt like they were just over his shoulder.
Tiffany struggled with the walk, her hand going to the bandage at her side as her breathing grew more labored with the fast pace the humans walked in comparison to the casual stroll the dragon seemed to be enjoying. Ianto ignored it for as long as he could, his anger still bubbling beneath the surface in regards to her responsibility for the death of his mother and others at Avalon, but eventually, when they did not appear to be nearing their destination, he cursed everything from the dragons to idiot children of mad men.
"Some courtesy, please," Ianto bellowed at the dragon in front of him, stopping to assist Tiffany. His skin crawled despite the layers of leather and cotton as he braced her against his side, supporting part of her weight as they continued walking. The dragon in front of them turned to watch their progress, slowing its pace to better accommodate theirs.
That didn't slow the dragons behind them, Ianto noted, their clawed feet clicking their progress on the stone causeway.
Ianto wondered why the aliens walked at all, but then took into account their giant wingspans. While flying might carry them faster from one place to the next, depending on the number of dragons living in this rock, air collisions were a threat.
Or, again, maybe they didn't build this ship and had stolen it from another race who did need to walk.
They arrived at a large room after what felt like hours, but could only have been minutes. Almost immediately, Ianto released Tiffany, refusing to touch her any longer than necessary. Unless it involved throttling and then he might be willing to make an exception, no matter how cruel a person it made him.
The room was huge, eclipsing the one they had transported into by at least a magnitude of three, with an array of levels scattered like a layered waterfall of stone with platforms and cascades of well-worn steps etched into the gleaming stone. At the different levels were dragons of all shapes and colors, though a vast majority were relatively small and in varying degrees of blue shades, some teal, some royal blue, others almost violet but all blue. Crewmen, Ianto surmised, raising new questions about the culture of the creatures and how they were bred if scale-color determined position and authority.
He was momentarily distracted by the sheer number of panels and instruments on each level, what appeared to be massive keyboard and input systems as well as maybe diagnostics and control displays? Ianto assumed they were on the bridge, if there was one on this ship. He couldn't help himself from turning about, taking in the sights and sounds, freezing in place as his carefully controlled exterior finally melted into one of what he assumed must be awe.
It was absolutely beautiful.
An entire side of the bridge was just ... gone. No glass or clear paneling that he could see, just an open hole in the side of the ship, floor to ceiling, like one of those eerily real street chalk drawings where it looks like one would fall into a hole but in reality was just a picture. But this wasn't a painted mural, it wasn't a picture or a snapshot.
It was space.
Lots and lots of space.
Ianto had never seen anything quite like this before, not even the momentary view of Earth he had seen from Sheppard's ship. At the time, he hadn't had the conscious thought to really absorb what he saw, too concerned with the safety of his team and Cardiff to spend wasted on gazing out the window.
This view, however, Ianto felt like he could just ... fall out of if he stepped too close to the edge. Thousands of stars dotted the vast black of space, appearing to twinkle in the vacuum as cosmic mirages fooled his eyes. The brilliant curve of Jupiter graced the far left side, swirling orange and reds looking more vivid and angry than any photograph captured by satellite or telescope. It appeared small, taking up no more than a fourth of the height of the open area, but Ianto felt like he could all but reach out and touch the planet.
But small was nothing in comparison to the shining point in the center of the view area.
Earth.
Ianto knew it was Earth, for logical reasons as well as the blown up image he assumed was real-time, a marbled blue-green-brown-white sphere superimposed on the view area next to it. Alien symbols scrolled in what must have been data gathered by the dragons' sensors, though what it said Ianto hadn't the faintest idea.
He returned his focus to the dot, looking so small and so far away it was hard to believe that was his home. That was his planet; his family was somewhere on that dot of light, possibly watching the heavens for a dot of light signifying the ship he was on, watching down on them. His team, Torchwood, Avalon, god, six billion people were on that tiny little speck.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Tiffany purred next to him, the octaves blending together in her speech signifying that Ianto was once again speaking with the dragon, not the girl, and serving to remind him of the danger he was in. "And so helpless."
Ianto spun to face the puce-colored dragon as a deep rumble was echoed across the cavern. It was the same rumble he'd heard earlier: the dragons were ... laughing. He drew his weapon from his shoulder, aiming it at the puce-dragon who Ianto assumed was some kind of leader aboard the ship as he had yet to see any other who reflected a similar age or authority. "We are anything but helpless."
Again the dragon laughed, the amusement repeated by Tiffany who strolled into view, standing between Ianto and the dragon. "And this is how you begin negotiations on Earth? Your actions are on display for all to see. It would be horrible for the saviour of the humans to display such open hostility when invited as guest aboard a ship, is it not?"
Ianto didn't move, though the name made him flinch. He remembered the broadcast of Michael and the Weevil, breaking through all communications devices and once more cursed the dragon-kind for making this conversation known to the world. His eyes darted about, looking for any kind of recording device, locating what appeared to be a camera, though it appeared far more crystalline in appearance.
He wondered, briefly, if there was a time delay in the relay to Earth and if there wasn't, how exactly that was accomplished.
"You'll pardon me if I don't entirely trust a race which so openly attacked my planet and my people." Ianto replied with equal casualness, focusing his attention once again on the dragon, hand on the trigger of the weapon, itching to pull it and blast the dragon (and the ship) from there to kingdom come, but refraining, if only to continue the plan.
After all, the broadcast made it easier to complete.
"Then it should come at no surprise that you are not trusted as well."
Ianto had never wondered what it would feel like, never stopped to ponder what the sensation would be if one's lungs were ripped from their chest, but as he was driven to his knees he knew without doubt it was something he'd never have to imagine. Fuck, if the shock hadn't made him collapse the pain would have, clawing at his chest, shredding every breath he tried to take but he knew, he somehow knew in the haze of pain that it wasn't his chest, it wasn't even physical. He knew he could still breathe and his lungs were still functioning. He knew but his mind still deflected, protecting itself from acknowledgement of the attack. He knew it was an attack, he was aware as his ears registered a hoarse cry that did not sound as though it came from a dragon.
Him.
God, it was him.
The pain wasn't in his chest, though the initial impact felt like it shattered bone and separated limbs. Fuck, his mind bent and bowed at the pressuring black, the sensation of malevolence so oppressing it threatened to collapse every barrier. Which was what the dragons intended, Ianto knew. He understood that much as his hands clutched his temples as though to block the probing mind, minds.
Plural. Multiple attacks combined in effort.
Fuck it hurt, black talons tearing at his mind.
Long, in vale of fog and mist ...
The TARDIS had barely settled, the whirring sounds of activity still singing her arrival, before Jack burst out of the door, skidding to a halt to get his bearings.
Earth. Cardiff. Plas Roald Dahl. Late-afternoon and winter for all it was cold and dreary, from the clothing fashion of the masses huddled off to the side it was about the time period he left.
Fury shook his hands as stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets. Seven days. It had taken seven days just for the Doctor to get up his nerve. "Doctor!" Jack yelled, turning back to the blue Police Box in the middle of the Plas.
Martha Jones exited first, Jack rather liked her for all her spirited femininity, part warrior, part innocence, definitely all beautiful woman. Reminded him of a woman he once knew back at the Agency, a woman if he didn't know was already dead he'd search for her and kill her himself for her involvement. The thought made him glare at the Doctor, hands in his pockets as he waltzed out of the TARDIS like he hadn't a care in the world.
He ought to care. Jack was half tempted to strangle him as well for the secrets he had hidden, the past he'd pretended to not know. If it weren't that the bastard could just regenerate and continue living, Jack would have acted without remorse.
Two years of his memory. The fucker had wiped two years.
Calm settled over Jack as he strode towards the first group of people he saw. Always innately curious, he wondered about the commotion, typically the Plas wasn't this popular except for nights of a good show at the Millennium Centre, but it was far from night time and in late afternoon, a crowd only meant trouble.
Lights flashed as he approached, his coat swirling about his ankles as he walked, presenting a striking picture if there ever was to be one taken of Captain Jack Harkness. He smiled, though he wasn't sure it was a kind smile.
Didn't really care.
A few of the group looked familiar, though their attire raised his eyebrows. They'd never dressed like that for him; though he now remembered seeing Tosh where the same outfit when he was rescued from that pit of torture Torchwood Four had liked to refer to as their Archives. They'd been good, but he'd doled out worse in his past, not that he'd ever admit that to Torchwood Four. Kramer did well enough on his own.
He didn't think of Ianto dying in his arms. He refused to remember ever saying "I love you" to the man, whether he meant it or not. Thinking so just brought the fury back, and he smiled a wolfish grin at the backs of his team. "Hey kids. Where's Ianto?" Jack asked in the most innocent, carefree voice he could manage.
Four figures jumped in comical surprise. Really, he'd taught the team better than that, they should have had at least one person watching their six. Gwen shrieked, the sound making him cringe but she didn't advance like she had during the time he now remembered, maintaining instead a careful distance.
"Is it really you, Jack?" Tosh asked, her voice small and scared.
Jack couldn't be bothered to find out why. "Where is Ianto?" He asked again, smiling sweetly and carefully enunciating his question so there could be no mistake, his honed American accent pristine if not slightly overdone.
Tosh looked at Owen, and something about the look on their faces drove the fury from Jack so quickly it left him breathless. They turned, pointing to the screens they had been watching, media vans, all keyed into the same signal.
Jack stared as Owen spoke. "They found out about the plan almost immediately, chased off Sheppard's ship before the crew could get a lock on his signal." Owen paused, clearing his throat while Jack just watched, Ianto's face covered in a sheen of sweat, his whole body violently shaking as a voice spoke in the background, telling of its delight, telling of the joy it would feel destroying Earth and knowing Mr. Black had witnessed the destruction as he had organized the destruction of their kind.
Telling how it found pleasure breaking him.
"We don't know if they're waiting to destroy Earth before or after they ..." Owen cut himself off, waving a hand at the screen. "He's been giving up things for a while now, his birthday and age, though how the bloody he's done what he's done at thirty ..." Owen shook his head and continued while Jack watched the blood began trickling from Ianto's nose, stress or damage, Jack wasn't certain. "Access codes to the Hub, his mum's true name-"
"What is he protecting?" Jack interrupted, uncrossing his arms to point at the screen. "He's protecting something. That information is useless. What's the other plan?"
Owen looked to Tosh and back to Jack, shrugging. "We only had the one plan. Use their transportation frequency to plant explosives on the ship and get him out. Went balls up once Sheppard's ship was discovered. He had some arms on him, but don't reckon he's capable right now of shooting that old weapon you used on the ship in the bay."
Jack felt fingers of fear crawl down his spine as Ianto suddenly focused on the camera, his eyes clearing to a startling crystal blue. If he weren't immortal, Jack knew the frantic pace of his heart would kill him. "Doctor!"
The spirit in sopor lives ...
Ianto huffed air through his mouth, trying to regain footing within his own mind without retching from the pain. Or passing out as the attacks grew, countless attacks, fuck, how many and how long could he fight them off?
Too much to protect. Too much. Fuck, too much. The plan ...
Laughter filled his ears as he felt a bubble burst in his mind, black tar oozing over the thought, ensnaring it, capturing it.
Devouring it.
"A plan, do you?" Tiffany's laughter mocked him, cackling as a dragon roared what had to be emphasis on an order or a thought or a plan. God, the plan. "It's failed, Mr. Black. We've targeted the ship now, the Spes Nostra wasn't it? And altered our shields. There will be no plan, Mr. Black."
As quickly as his struggling mind could manage once he was aware what was happening, Ianto buried himself deep within his own mind, sinking himself away from the surface as he could. Deep, where victims of violence and those who witnessed horrible things hid, that safety net disconnecting them from the experience, where they could protect themselves if not their bodies.
A safe place, buried within layers of memory and thought, sought after by Buddhists and yogi alike, a tranquil place, peace borne of meditation, solace and examination of one's self. Transcendence, they called it, buried beyond layers, carefully crafted to sacrifice the least important to the minds of the dragons.
Let them think they won their victory.
"We will win, Mr. Black. And you will watch as we destroy your Earth." Ianto felt a hand tilt his face towards the open wall, the screen where Earth gleamed a pinprick of light and magnified to marbled brilliance. He could hardly see it, but he knew Earth was there. "A fitting end, don't you think? Watch the world crumble which you united to protect. Those were our kin." Tiffany growled, though Ianto hardly thought that they were any brethren of her, the human's. "We will obliterate it, erase it from time. All those little people, all that history, all that future. Gone."
Tiffany's laughter made Ianto flinch, trying to escape her hand but only drawing the dragon's attention, Tiffany's fingernails digging into his jaw, holding him still. His hands flailed in protest, weakly pushing at her hand, her body, anything he could touch and the dragons' roared behind him but it worked.
Distraction.
Deep within his mind, Ianto planned, smiling when he could not physically smile.
The device was small, flat, pebble-like. Probably why it was missed when his weapons were stripped after falling to the floor. Fit small within his hand, a tiny, innocuous blue-tinged skipping stone he'd stuck in his pocket ages ago in Jack's office.
Arm ... he had to arm ...
Ianto felt another wall pop, could almost visually see it go, a dam cracking under pressure. "Ah, you are young, Mr. Black. Just a fledgling attempting to do an adult's job. Born March 28th, 1978 to a Viviene, is it? That makes you a child." Tiffany's nails scored his skin, digging painfully deep into his jaw but he almost welcomed the distraction from the chaos of his mind. "I will enjoy breaking you, once Earth has been destroyed. You and all your precious secrets."
He would have liked to clarify the dragon's statements, as it wasn't only that dragon's mind battering his -- that he could have withstood, a single attack. Had, in fact. But he couldn't, his fingers curling around the flat pebble in his hand, slowly flipping a corner of the device. The weight of the minds battering his crushed the ability to speak, he could remember speaking once, the tongue sounding so foreign to his ears but he knew he had.
Once.
Another dam burst. Ianto was fairly certain he cried. Not great sobs, that would require focus beyond the skipping stone, that would have required him to feel beyond the barriers of his mind but he couldn't, not for lack of tears streaming down his face while his body trembled at the force being used.
"Torchwood Three access codes!" Tiffany sang with glee, Ianto felt her smearing the blood on his chin but he brushed the thought aside, washing it away with all the other trivial thoughts which flowed past, mere ripples in the calm pond. Ripples. Skipping stones.
He flipped another edge, spinning the corners in its specific code.
A code he remembered, beneath river and sand, buried deep in corners of his mind of which he had no knowledge.
Buried deep whereupon he found himself.
Tiffany laughed as the dragons roared, barriers and walls falling quicker than he could protect. Memories of Lisa camping, of Stephen training him to fence, his mother teaching him manners, Jack kissing him, bringing him back to life. The more that fell to the sickening slime that ate its way through his mind, the more he fought, stress and resistance pulling his muscles taunt, splintering and pulling at his mind until even his toes curled in protest of the invasion, feeding strength through sheer desperation than by any physical help.
"We are arming our weapon now. Say goodbye to your pretty little world, Mr. Black. Smile, the world watches your failure. Earth. Is. Lost."
The last corner flipped.
Ianto raised his head, independent of Tiffany's hand, deep calm and acceptance brushing aside the dragon minds with casual thought. His gaze fell on the camera, knowing Earth watched, Earth feared as the threats of complete annihilation filtered through to any and all listening. He didn't doubt the dragons, he was sure they'd scavenged technology across space and time which would permit such an action, such ultimate destruction as to erase a world from both time and space.
Most likely illegal in any galaxy, which left him with no remorse for his actions and little doubt for the purpose of bringing him to the ship.
"No," Ianto stated clearly, smiling as he stood. The dragons roared in a panic around him; Tiffany screamed in his ear as her hands clawed at him in an action more apt to taloned dragon claws, not human nails. This wasn't supposed to happen. This went contrary to their plans.
But it was his plans, his family, it was the six billion people on earth and Jack who floated sometime in-between. It was his love for his people, his love for his family, the love for all that were and that were to be, unborn yet cherished in the eons of Earth from beginning to end. It was his love for Jack, born three thousand years from now to live in yesterday.
It was his choice.
"No," Ianto repeated, standing tall as he felt the wind whip at his back, the smile broad upon his face. "Earth lives."
In time r'turns, with love combine ...
"Doctor!" Jack desperately grabbed at the man's jacket, manhandling him away from the screens, away from Ianto whose eyes burned so fiercely blue Jack could feel him staring into his soul. "Get me up there now! We still have time!"
"Jack?" Owen's voice pulled him away from the struggle trying to get the Doctor in the TARDIS, more easily said than done as the Doctor was a most wily character and slipped out of his grasp while Jack was distracted.
Distracted in time to catch the radiance of Ianto's smile, the certainty by which he spoke.
"Earth lives."
Ianto's beautiful smile.
The screens switched harshly to static, black and white snow racing across and down and every scattered direction as the signal was lost. Jack fought around that conscious thought; a signal lost meant nothing, meant absolutely nothing.
Meant nothing. Nothing until the heavens paused, the world stilled as though by a mighty hand, waiting, waiting on the edge of something. Something ... something erupted into flame, a fireball so brilliant it dimmed the sun as it went from pinprick to shattered light streaking across the skyline, shooting lengthwise to span its touch across the horizon.
No.
No.
"Take me back!" Jack shouted as he wrapped his hands in the Doctor's jacket, twisting them until they lifted the man off the ground, slamming him into the TARDIS. He felt Martha beside him, maybe the rest of the team too, but they would not stop him. "This is the wrong time! Take me back. I can still save him." His voice cracked, pitching up far sharper than anything he ever spoke but it didn't matter, none of it did.
He didn't remember a time when he had heard those same words spoken, didn't consider the time when Ianto had plead with tears in his eyes, calling him a monster.
Jack didn't think about the denial he had given.
Calm eyes stared back into his, despite trainers dangling as he was forcibly held against the TARDIS. "I can't do that, Jack." The Doctor said with regret, holding aloft a slip of paper which bore a script Jack instantly recognized.
Dropping the Doctor, Jack grabbed the slip of paper: a requisition slip dated just days ago but frail with age. Hands trembling, Jack smoothed his thumb over the hasty scrawl.
Doctor,
Captain Jack Harkness will find you following his battle with Abbadon.
Protect this as you would your kin until then.
15:15 P.M., December 31st, 2008
I love him.
In your debt,
Ianto Jones
Jack's hand shook, dropping the paper which Martha quickly retrieved before it could blow away. Of course the Doctor couldn't go back. Not after directed and such a small jump. He'd cross timelines or something universe-shattering. Hell, Jack doubted the TARDIS would even take him back, just fifteen minutes, thirty at the most, a skip in the pond as ripples swam about him. It was nothing, fifteen minutes.
And yet Ianto had asked for it. Asked the Doctor for it. Probably because he knew Jack better than Jack knew himself.
Fuck.
"Fuck!" Jack echoed, shouting at the skies which served no purpose other than to release whatever it was that he couldn't feel. He shouldn't. Not if he were immortal, living the span of many Iantos. Iantos would come and go and he would live on.
Iantos wouldn't.
Ianto couldn't.
"Forever," Jack had told Elaine, curled up against Ianto while he slept, holding him tight after nightmares had plagued him, promising Ianto while he slept, "I'm with you, I am always with you, on every curve and coil."
Forever.
Jack stared up at the sky, ignoring the weeping of those around him and settling for the cold comfort of grief to wrap around himself, solitary, standing alone against the sky until the atmosphere burst into flares of light, fragments of ship the size of a moon bidding farewell as the sun sank to slumber.
"I won't let you go."
Choking back a sob, muffled against the greatcoat Ianto had loved so much, Jack wept in time with the falling of the heavens, for promises failed and the forever never lived.
Chasing time to save victory, sorrow rains while light doth shine.
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