Secrets and Hope (4/9)
Title: Secrets and Hope - (4/9)
Characters/pairings: Ianto, Jack, Gwen, Rhys, various other characters introduced in CoE. Jack/Ianto and Gwen/Rhys
Rating: PG, maybe pg13ish in places.
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort.
Summary: As Torchwood rebuilds following the events of CoE the government are still keeping secrets and it's up to Ianto to reveal the truth.
Spoilers: Children of Earth days 4 and 5.
Authors note: Plot hole exploitation fic. Dark angsty fic with a happy ending. I don't normally post WiP, but for this one I'm making an exception.
part one
part two
part three
“I think you’ve had enough, mate,” Rhys says, walking over to where Jack is sat at the bar, a row of empty glasses in front of him.
“It’s all my fault,” Jack slurs, knocking back another tumbler of whiskey, not bothering to look at Rhys. “I still see them, hear them.”
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhys puts an arm around Jack’s waist hauling him off the barstool, and starts walking him to the door.
“Home,” Jack says bitterly, stumbling beside Rhys, but not trying to get away. “Been a long time since I’d had one of those.”
“Oh, right.” Rhys looks uncomfortable. “Well you’re coming back to mine and Gwen’s then, no argument.”
As soon as they are outside, Jack sways on his feet, the cold night air hitting him after sitting for so long in a warm pub. Pushing away from Rhys, Jack staggers over to the alleyway at the side of pub, before leaning heavily against the wall.
“Where are you going now?” Rhys starts after him.
Jack doesn’t reply, just doubles over, stomach heaving as the alcohol he’s drunk comes back up.
“Better out than in, I suppose.” Turning away, to give Jack a little privacy, Rhys gets out his mobile and phones Gwen.
“Yeah, I found him. No, I’ve no idea where he’s been, but he’s in right state, can see why you say he don’t drink much.” Rhys looks over at Jack who’s now on his hands and knees, retching into the gutter. “I course I won’t leave him here. See you soon.”
Jack is silent on the drive back to the flat, his head rests against the window, eyes sad and barely focused as he takes no notice of the dark city streets passing by.
Gwen is on the phone, a stack of paperwork spread out on the table in front of her, when Rhys helps Jack through the door and over to the sofa.
Exhausted and drunk past being able to stand unaided, Jack slumps down onto the sofa as soon as Rhys lets go of him.
“You going to be okay?” Rhys asks, helping Jack take off his coat and boots
“Always going to be okay,” Jack says hoarsely, not looking at Rhys. “No choice.”
“Oh er right, you want anything, water or something? You going to have a killer hangover in the morning.”
Jack shakes his head, curling up miserably on a sofa that’s too small for him to sleep comfortably on.
“Well, you know where me and Gwen are if you change your mind.”
Covering Jack with the throw that had been draped over the back of the sofa, Rhys goes to join Gwen at the table now that she’s put the phone down. “I think we’d better let him sleep it off. So, your evening been any better than mine then, love?”
“I finally got in contact with Archie’s. He still his usual charming self, but I think he’s going to get Glasgow running properly again, actually recruit some people.” Gwen smiles tiredly at Rhys as he sits down beside her. “I told him if he gets the office working again I’ll put him up for early retirement, that seemed to do.”
“Better than wandering round pubs for three hours and not getting a drink, then.”
“You’ve not tried talking to Archie, I think I’d rather take the pubs.” Gwen looks wistful for a moment, before saying, “I really miss being able to have a pint.”
“They do alcohol free,” Rhys says, trying to cheer her up. “We could out this Friday. Bananaboat’s got a new girlfriend, we could all go to that new place that’s opened up down near the Bay.”
“An evening of alcohol free lager and Bananaboat, fun,” Gwen says, obviously not meaning it.
“Oh don’t be like that, I know he’s a bit much sometimes, but he’s a laugh, and we could do with that right now.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Gwen still doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll think about. One bit of good news though, I heard from Lois, she’s managed to get the Future Options Committee to release funding for the London office.”
“So London’s going to be up and running soon?” Rhys looks impressed.
“Well up anyway. It’ll just be Lois, Johnson, and a couple of other staff for the first few months, just making sure everything is in place for when it opens properly.” Yawning, Gwen rubs her eyes, “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to keep phoning Whitehall or whichever stupid department they passing me on to. I don’t know how Ianto used to do it.”
“I miss him, I keep thinking ‘Ianto would have known this’ or ‘Ianto would be so much better at dealing with these people’.” She rests her head on Rhys’ shoulder. “I nearly phoned him today.”
Rhys puts his arm round her, “It’ll be okay, just give it some time.”
“If I didn’t have the you, the baby and Torchwood to think about I reckon I’d go mad some days.” Gwen sniffs and wipes her eyes, muttering, “Bloody hormones.”
Leaning over Rhys gives her a quick kiss. “I think you’re doing great.”
“I just want there to be a Torchwood for Jack to come back to.”
“You sure he’ll want to come back?” Rhys looks over to where Jack moves restlessly in his alcohol induced sleep, a hand reaching out blindly for someone or something that isn’t there. “Don’t you think he’s maybe he’s given enough?”
“No!” Before Gwen can answer Jack sits up suddenly, looking around wild eyed, before covering his face with his hands, shoulders starting to shake.
Getting up, Gwen gives Rhys an ‘I’m sorry’ look, before walking over to Jack, and putting her arms round him.
Sighing, Rhys gets up as well and heads to the kitchen. “I’ll go make us some tea then, shall I?”
* * *
By morning Jack is gone, a note left propped up on the coffee table. Gone to stay with Martha for a few days. I just need to be away from here. I’m sorry. Jack.
Reading the note for a second time Gwen shakes her head, saying quietly, “Be okay Jack, please. I can’t do this on my own.”
* * *
It takes two months for Ianto to discover the name of the facility where he’s being held: The Audley Clinic.
Two months in which no opportunities for escape have presented themselves. Confined to the same room, the only times that Ianto has been permitted to leave it is with Doctor Munro, who, since the incident with the UNIT soldier, accompanied by an armed guard. These excursions are only ever to testing labs located in other parts of the building. X-rays, brains scans, full body scans and tests of heart and lung capacity measured by running on a treadmill until he feels like his legs are going to give way.
It’s during these tests that Ianto discovers how many others survived Thames House, fourteen, and that he is subject four. It’s written on the top of all Munro’s case notes about him, 4/14-TH.
Ianto’s glad that he doesn’t know the exact number of people working in Thames House when the 456 released their virus, although he suspects it was a few hundred. However he looks at it, or rather tries not to, the death rate is about the same as what it had been at Canary Wharf after the Cybermen. Hundreds of grieving relatives never really knowing what had happened to their loved ones, the nearby buildings set up as temporary morgues while the bodies were identified.
The continued running and rerunning of the same tests for seemingly no purpose, and the frustrated look on the faces of doctor Munro and his colleagues when the results come back, tell Ianto that they are as much at a loss as to why there are any survivors at all as he is.
The only other benefit of these occasional excursions is that it gives Ianto the opportunity to learn a little more about the layout of the Audley Clinic. It’s substantial, four storey building, and is set well away from any other houses. The level of security isn’t military, nor is any of the technology that Ianto’s seen anything other than what would be available to a hospital with a good budget.
In fact everything that Ianto has seen makes him think that it resembles the Pharm more than anything else, although considering what had happened to Owen there that’s not a comforting thought. However, knowing that he’s not going to have to deal with military level security does provide some reassurance that he may succeed in getting out of the place in one piece.
The fact that any escape attempt will mean that he’ll almost certainly have to leave the other people - prisoners, would be a better description he decides - here, makes Ianto feel ill. He’s not sure how he’s going to deal with it if some of them die before he’s had a chance to come back and rescue them, or if any of them die because of his escape.
Ianto knows that he’ll deal with though, maybe not well or quickly, after all it’s going to be joining the back of queue for things that he’s not actually dealing with, but as long as he’s got Jack though he knows he’ll cope.
Jack. Jack who must be hurting so much right now, who probably needs to be held just as much Ianto need to hold him. Ianto knows that there is a vulnerability under all Jack’s innuendo and brash smiles, a fear of loss and abandonment that runs so deep that sometime Ianto wonders how Jack copes with the knowledge that immortality means the eventual loss of everybody and everything that he’s ever know.
Thinking of Jack, his friends or family has, as the weeks have gone on, become more and more painful, the feelings of loss and isolation bringing tears to Ianto’s eyes.
Startled by the door to his room opening, Ianto tries to hurriedly wipe away his tears, not wanting Dr Munro to see any signs of weakness. Looking over at the door, Ianto is surprised to find that his visitor isn’t Dr Munro, but a women of about fifty, dressed in a labcoat, her greying hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“No doctor Munro today?” Ianto says, his voice rough from holding back tears that are still threatening to fall.
“No, he’s been assigned to the more promising subjects.” The annoyance in her voice is clear. Her tone changes though as she notices his tears, and she says more kindly, “Are you all right?”
How the hell, Ianto wonders, is he supposed to be all right? He’s being kept prisoner in near solitary confinement, he’s prodded and poked and tested almost daily and he’s got no idea if any of his friend and family are still alive.
It’s hard not to shout at her, to tell her in no uncertain terms just what he thinks of the Audley Clinic, but that, Ianto knows would gain him nothing. Her concern seems genuine and the potential, however unlikely, of an ally on the inside, or at least somebody sympathetic towards him, is too great a chance to be missed.
Ianto shakes his head, not bothering to hold back the tears, knowing that they are likely to help. “No.”
Putting her clipboard on the small table by the bed, she sits down next to him, saying, “For what it’s worth I wish there was some other way of researching the virus than putting people through this.”
Ianto resists telling her that there are plenty of better ways that imprisoning a dozen people and telling their families that they're dead to research anything, choosing instead to let the tears continue to fall.
When Ianto doesn’t reply she slowly puts an arm around his shoulders, a hand rubbing his arm.
It’s the first friendly contact that Ianto has had since Jack last held him, and rush of emotions threatens to overwhelm him. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“I had a son who’d have been about you age,” she says sadly.
“I’m sorry.” Ianto looks at her ID badge. “Doctor Armitage.”
“You can call me Ruth, everybody else does.” She hands him a tissue to dry his eyes. “Anyway Doctor Armitage makes me sound like my dad.”
Wiping his eyes, Ianto decides on his course of action, and there only seems to be one way to go. Manipulating the sympathies of a women because of her dead son, Ianto thinks has got to be a new low, but his current situation leaves him with little choice.
“When they get their answers will they let me go?” Ianto knows that the answer, regardless of what she tells him, is going to be no, or at least not alive. But sounding lost and naïve he’s sure will serve him better.
“I don’t know. Research hasn’t been going as fast as hoped,” Ruth admits, before adding, “The fact that we’ve working blind on most of this doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I might be able to help.” Ianto glances over at the clipboard, realising this might be his best chance at getting some real information about just what is going on. He knows that they won’t have access to the Torchwood archives, and he very much doubts that UNIT will be cooperating with whatever department it is that are behind the Audley Clinic.
“I doubt it.” Ruth picks up the clipboard before Ianto has a chance to get a better look at the paperwork attached to it.
“I worked in the archives at Torchwood, before all this happened, there might be something that I recognise.” It’s a long shot, what he’s managed to teach himself about medical matters since losing Owen has been basic, but somebody had had to do it, and it had seemed a natural progression for him to move from just disposing of bodies with a suitable to cover story to actually doing the autopsies on them as well. Torchwood really does have a way of twisting what you think of as natural or normal, Ianto thinks with bitter amusement as he waits for Ruth to reply.
Ruth looks doubtful as she considers it, saying, “I shouldn’t show you any of the research, it’s basic doctor patient confidentiality. They get little enough privacy as it is.”
“What about my own file?” Ianto asks hopefully, unwilling to give up now that he’s so close to finally getting some useful information. “I should be able to see that, and who knows you might get the research breakthrough before doctor Munro.” Ianto smiles at her. “A little revenge for him taking the most promising subjects.”
“It would take the smug smile of his face,” she muses, before suddenly handing Ianto the clipboard, saying, “All right, just don’t tell anyone I let you see this.”
“You won’t regret it,” Ianto says smiling at her, and hoping that he won’t be him ends up being the one regretting ever helping her.
part five
Characters/pairings: Ianto, Jack, Gwen, Rhys, various other characters introduced in CoE. Jack/Ianto and Gwen/Rhys
Rating: PG, maybe pg13ish in places.
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort.
Summary: As Torchwood rebuilds following the events of CoE the government are still keeping secrets and it's up to Ianto to reveal the truth.
Spoilers: Children of Earth days 4 and 5.
Authors note: Plot hole exploitation fic. Dark angsty fic with a happy ending. I don't normally post WiP, but for this one I'm making an exception.
part one
part two
part three
“I think you’ve had enough, mate,” Rhys says, walking over to where Jack is sat at the bar, a row of empty glasses in front of him.
“It’s all my fault,” Jack slurs, knocking back another tumbler of whiskey, not bothering to look at Rhys. “I still see them, hear them.”
“Come on, let’s get you home.” Rhys puts an arm around Jack’s waist hauling him off the barstool, and starts walking him to the door.
“Home,” Jack says bitterly, stumbling beside Rhys, but not trying to get away. “Been a long time since I’d had one of those.”
“Oh, right.” Rhys looks uncomfortable. “Well you’re coming back to mine and Gwen’s then, no argument.”
As soon as they are outside, Jack sways on his feet, the cold night air hitting him after sitting for so long in a warm pub. Pushing away from Rhys, Jack staggers over to the alleyway at the side of pub, before leaning heavily against the wall.
“Where are you going now?” Rhys starts after him.
Jack doesn’t reply, just doubles over, stomach heaving as the alcohol he’s drunk comes back up.
“Better out than in, I suppose.” Turning away, to give Jack a little privacy, Rhys gets out his mobile and phones Gwen.
“Yeah, I found him. No, I’ve no idea where he’s been, but he’s in right state, can see why you say he don’t drink much.” Rhys looks over at Jack who’s now on his hands and knees, retching into the gutter. “I course I won’t leave him here. See you soon.”
Jack is silent on the drive back to the flat, his head rests against the window, eyes sad and barely focused as he takes no notice of the dark city streets passing by.
Gwen is on the phone, a stack of paperwork spread out on the table in front of her, when Rhys helps Jack through the door and over to the sofa.
Exhausted and drunk past being able to stand unaided, Jack slumps down onto the sofa as soon as Rhys lets go of him.
“You going to be okay?” Rhys asks, helping Jack take off his coat and boots
“Always going to be okay,” Jack says hoarsely, not looking at Rhys. “No choice.”
“Oh er right, you want anything, water or something? You going to have a killer hangover in the morning.”
Jack shakes his head, curling up miserably on a sofa that’s too small for him to sleep comfortably on.
“Well, you know where me and Gwen are if you change your mind.”
Covering Jack with the throw that had been draped over the back of the sofa, Rhys goes to join Gwen at the table now that she’s put the phone down. “I think we’d better let him sleep it off. So, your evening been any better than mine then, love?”
“I finally got in contact with Archie’s. He still his usual charming self, but I think he’s going to get Glasgow running properly again, actually recruit some people.” Gwen smiles tiredly at Rhys as he sits down beside her. “I told him if he gets the office working again I’ll put him up for early retirement, that seemed to do.”
“Better than wandering round pubs for three hours and not getting a drink, then.”
“You’ve not tried talking to Archie, I think I’d rather take the pubs.” Gwen looks wistful for a moment, before saying, “I really miss being able to have a pint.”
“They do alcohol free,” Rhys says, trying to cheer her up. “We could out this Friday. Bananaboat’s got a new girlfriend, we could all go to that new place that’s opened up down near the Bay.”
“An evening of alcohol free lager and Bananaboat, fun,” Gwen says, obviously not meaning it.
“Oh don’t be like that, I know he’s a bit much sometimes, but he’s a laugh, and we could do with that right now.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Gwen still doesn’t sound convinced. “I’ll think about. One bit of good news though, I heard from Lois, she’s managed to get the Future Options Committee to release funding for the London office.”
“So London’s going to be up and running soon?” Rhys looks impressed.
“Well up anyway. It’ll just be Lois, Johnson, and a couple of other staff for the first few months, just making sure everything is in place for when it opens properly.” Yawning, Gwen rubs her eyes, “I’ll be glad when I don’t have to keep phoning Whitehall or whichever stupid department they passing me on to. I don’t know how Ianto used to do it.”
“I miss him, I keep thinking ‘Ianto would have known this’ or ‘Ianto would be so much better at dealing with these people’.” She rests her head on Rhys’ shoulder. “I nearly phoned him today.”
Rhys puts his arm round her, “It’ll be okay, just give it some time.”
“If I didn’t have the you, the baby and Torchwood to think about I reckon I’d go mad some days.” Gwen sniffs and wipes her eyes, muttering, “Bloody hormones.”
Leaning over Rhys gives her a quick kiss. “I think you’re doing great.”
“I just want there to be a Torchwood for Jack to come back to.”
“You sure he’ll want to come back?” Rhys looks over to where Jack moves restlessly in his alcohol induced sleep, a hand reaching out blindly for someone or something that isn’t there. “Don’t you think he’s maybe he’s given enough?”
“No!” Before Gwen can answer Jack sits up suddenly, looking around wild eyed, before covering his face with his hands, shoulders starting to shake.
Getting up, Gwen gives Rhys an ‘I’m sorry’ look, before walking over to Jack, and putting her arms round him.
Sighing, Rhys gets up as well and heads to the kitchen. “I’ll go make us some tea then, shall I?”
* * *
By morning Jack is gone, a note left propped up on the coffee table. Gone to stay with Martha for a few days. I just need to be away from here. I’m sorry. Jack.
Reading the note for a second time Gwen shakes her head, saying quietly, “Be okay Jack, please. I can’t do this on my own.”
* * *
It takes two months for Ianto to discover the name of the facility where he’s being held: The Audley Clinic.
Two months in which no opportunities for escape have presented themselves. Confined to the same room, the only times that Ianto has been permitted to leave it is with Doctor Munro, who, since the incident with the UNIT soldier, accompanied by an armed guard. These excursions are only ever to testing labs located in other parts of the building. X-rays, brains scans, full body scans and tests of heart and lung capacity measured by running on a treadmill until he feels like his legs are going to give way.
It’s during these tests that Ianto discovers how many others survived Thames House, fourteen, and that he is subject four. It’s written on the top of all Munro’s case notes about him, 4/14-TH.
Ianto’s glad that he doesn’t know the exact number of people working in Thames House when the 456 released their virus, although he suspects it was a few hundred. However he looks at it, or rather tries not to, the death rate is about the same as what it had been at Canary Wharf after the Cybermen. Hundreds of grieving relatives never really knowing what had happened to their loved ones, the nearby buildings set up as temporary morgues while the bodies were identified.
The continued running and rerunning of the same tests for seemingly no purpose, and the frustrated look on the faces of doctor Munro and his colleagues when the results come back, tell Ianto that they are as much at a loss as to why there are any survivors at all as he is.
The only other benefit of these occasional excursions is that it gives Ianto the opportunity to learn a little more about the layout of the Audley Clinic. It’s substantial, four storey building, and is set well away from any other houses. The level of security isn’t military, nor is any of the technology that Ianto’s seen anything other than what would be available to a hospital with a good budget.
In fact everything that Ianto has seen makes him think that it resembles the Pharm more than anything else, although considering what had happened to Owen there that’s not a comforting thought. However, knowing that he’s not going to have to deal with military level security does provide some reassurance that he may succeed in getting out of the place in one piece.
The fact that any escape attempt will mean that he’ll almost certainly have to leave the other people - prisoners, would be a better description he decides - here, makes Ianto feel ill. He’s not sure how he’s going to deal with it if some of them die before he’s had a chance to come back and rescue them, or if any of them die because of his escape.
Ianto knows that he’ll deal with though, maybe not well or quickly, after all it’s going to be joining the back of queue for things that he’s not actually dealing with, but as long as he’s got Jack though he knows he’ll cope.
Jack. Jack who must be hurting so much right now, who probably needs to be held just as much Ianto need to hold him. Ianto knows that there is a vulnerability under all Jack’s innuendo and brash smiles, a fear of loss and abandonment that runs so deep that sometime Ianto wonders how Jack copes with the knowledge that immortality means the eventual loss of everybody and everything that he’s ever know.
Thinking of Jack, his friends or family has, as the weeks have gone on, become more and more painful, the feelings of loss and isolation bringing tears to Ianto’s eyes.
Startled by the door to his room opening, Ianto tries to hurriedly wipe away his tears, not wanting Dr Munro to see any signs of weakness. Looking over at the door, Ianto is surprised to find that his visitor isn’t Dr Munro, but a women of about fifty, dressed in a labcoat, her greying hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“No doctor Munro today?” Ianto says, his voice rough from holding back tears that are still threatening to fall.
“No, he’s been assigned to the more promising subjects.” The annoyance in her voice is clear. Her tone changes though as she notices his tears, and she says more kindly, “Are you all right?”
How the hell, Ianto wonders, is he supposed to be all right? He’s being kept prisoner in near solitary confinement, he’s prodded and poked and tested almost daily and he’s got no idea if any of his friend and family are still alive.
It’s hard not to shout at her, to tell her in no uncertain terms just what he thinks of the Audley Clinic, but that, Ianto knows would gain him nothing. Her concern seems genuine and the potential, however unlikely, of an ally on the inside, or at least somebody sympathetic towards him, is too great a chance to be missed.
Ianto shakes his head, not bothering to hold back the tears, knowing that they are likely to help. “No.”
Putting her clipboard on the small table by the bed, she sits down next to him, saying, “For what it’s worth I wish there was some other way of researching the virus than putting people through this.”
Ianto resists telling her that there are plenty of better ways that imprisoning a dozen people and telling their families that they're dead to research anything, choosing instead to let the tears continue to fall.
When Ianto doesn’t reply she slowly puts an arm around his shoulders, a hand rubbing his arm.
It’s the first friendly contact that Ianto has had since Jack last held him, and rush of emotions threatens to overwhelm him. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“I had a son who’d have been about you age,” she says sadly.
“I’m sorry.” Ianto looks at her ID badge. “Doctor Armitage.”
“You can call me Ruth, everybody else does.” She hands him a tissue to dry his eyes. “Anyway Doctor Armitage makes me sound like my dad.”
Wiping his eyes, Ianto decides on his course of action, and there only seems to be one way to go. Manipulating the sympathies of a women because of her dead son, Ianto thinks has got to be a new low, but his current situation leaves him with little choice.
“When they get their answers will they let me go?” Ianto knows that the answer, regardless of what she tells him, is going to be no, or at least not alive. But sounding lost and naïve he’s sure will serve him better.
“I don’t know. Research hasn’t been going as fast as hoped,” Ruth admits, before adding, “The fact that we’ve working blind on most of this doesn’t make it any easier.”
“I might be able to help.” Ianto glances over at the clipboard, realising this might be his best chance at getting some real information about just what is going on. He knows that they won’t have access to the Torchwood archives, and he very much doubts that UNIT will be cooperating with whatever department it is that are behind the Audley Clinic.
“I doubt it.” Ruth picks up the clipboard before Ianto has a chance to get a better look at the paperwork attached to it.
“I worked in the archives at Torchwood, before all this happened, there might be something that I recognise.” It’s a long shot, what he’s managed to teach himself about medical matters since losing Owen has been basic, but somebody had had to do it, and it had seemed a natural progression for him to move from just disposing of bodies with a suitable to cover story to actually doing the autopsies on them as well. Torchwood really does have a way of twisting what you think of as natural or normal, Ianto thinks with bitter amusement as he waits for Ruth to reply.
Ruth looks doubtful as she considers it, saying, “I shouldn’t show you any of the research, it’s basic doctor patient confidentiality. They get little enough privacy as it is.”
“What about my own file?” Ianto asks hopefully, unwilling to give up now that he’s so close to finally getting some useful information. “I should be able to see that, and who knows you might get the research breakthrough before doctor Munro.” Ianto smiles at her. “A little revenge for him taking the most promising subjects.”
“It would take the smug smile of his face,” she muses, before suddenly handing Ianto the clipboard, saying, “All right, just don’t tell anyone I let you see this.”
“You won’t regret it,” Ianto says smiling at her, and hoping that he won’t be him ends up being the one regretting ever helping her.
part five