Fic: Torchwood Paranormal, Part Eighteen
It ain't over til it's over. Just...trust me.
"You have to let me go."
Jack didn't care that his voice cracked, that desperation soaked each word. Ianto needed him, his team needed him, and the only thing that stood between Jack and the ones he loved was the one thing he couldn't argue with, cajole, threaten or bribe:
Rose.
He hated the name they'd chosen for this thing now, a name that in no way befit the--the what? The ghost? The enemy? The monster that now kept him prisoner in the attic? Maybe it was worse that he sensed no evil from her--the term her used with great prejudice--or really, any kind of emotion at all, other than indifference to Jack's pleas and an implacable determination to keep Jack from returning downstairs.
If only he knew why.
Hindsight told him he'd been foolish to not tell anyone where he'd been going, but he'd thought that he had time whilst everyone else was getting set up for the investigation. It'd been Lucy he'd been worried about, Lucy who made another dramatic appearance in the foyer just as Jack had come down the stairs, intent on retrieving the spectrometer and rejoining Ianto and Tosh. With the power returning to their instruments and the plan to investigate the music room properly back on track, he'd been anxious to take his place in the van and lead his team.
But Lucy had never failed them. She'd been part of the Hall's mystery from the beginning, easily recognised by Jack the moment he'd arrived as one of the more strongly manifested spirits. Messenger, companion, harbinger of oncoming events, she'd served all those purposes without once evincing any hostility or placing any of them in danger. As much as one could trust a spectre long passed from this world, Jack trusted Lucy and beyond that, had come to feel genuine affection for her. To see her as distraught as she seemed when he saw her appear in the foyer, he hadn't thought twice about trying to find the cause of her distress.
Yes, it had been foolish, but that had never stopped Jack Harkness before. Nor had the concept of waiting for something to happen as opposed to leaping forward to find the answers that had eluded them so far. Lucy had demanded his attention as soon as he'd set foot on the foyer's parquet floor, tail tucked and shaking in fear at his feet before running down the hallway toward Ianto's office and returning when Jack didn't follow immediately.
He'd spoken aloud to her then, a reflexive attempt to get a feel for what she wanted to tell him, but she'd run down the hallway again and hadn't returned. That had been enough to worry Jack, so he'd decided in a split second to follow her, but follow her only so far because his real fear was that Ianto had returned to his office and something terrible had befallen him along the way. He'd been reassured when she'd led him deeper into the house instead of toward the office, but had his first qualms when they'd stopped by a door he'd yet to go through since coming to the Hall. Having left his earpiece behind in the van, he knew he was breaking his own protocol by going off alone and un-wired, but as Lucy became more agitated, he didn't want to lose time by going back. She was so upset that Jack could only surmise that Ianto was hurt or in danger, and if that was the case, there was no time to waste.
Decision made, he turned the handle and opened the door, revealing a small landing and a narrow staircase that went both up to the higher floors and down to the storerooms below. Lucy had gone through the door and up the stairs so quickly as to be almost be a blur, but had stopped on the next landing and turned back to Jack, her entire body shaking with silent, desperate barking. Jack took the stairs quickly, urgency and fear at war with a growing sense of unease. He was in unknown territory now, and no one knew where he was.
Still, he argued with himself, he's in the house, the lights are on and as soon as his fears were allayed he would turn right around, go downstairs, and tell Ianto what happened. Ianto wouldn't be happy, but he'd understand once Jack explained Lucy's actions and would probably agree that Jack needed to take a moment to check it out before they resumed their investigations.
At least, that's what Jack hoped as he opened a door to follow Lucy, now several floors above the ground floor and, to his relief, on a different floor than the music room. As soon as he'd gotten his bearings, he realised she'd led him to the hallway at the back of the house, the narrow one he'd first seen when he and Ianto had gone into the attic.
"Is that it? Lucy, the attic?"
Lucy didn't react, but that was where she took Jack, pausing at the door with her ears drooping and her tail still low between her hind legs. He stopped and reached for the doorknob, then pulled back. Trusting Lucy was one thing, but this was crossing the kind of line that could get him into more trouble than he was ready to handle. There wasn't anything compelling him to continue, now that Lucy was no longer leading him. He hadn't been gone long enough for his team to miss him but he wasn't far from them noticing his absence, so with that thought, coupled with now almost screaming sensation along his nerves telling him to turn back, he knew it was time to retreat.
That's what he decided was the best course, but not without some reluctance. But even as he backed away, prepared to race down the back stairs and begin the investigation, the door leading to the attic's steps swung open a few inches, a clear invitation.
Jack took a step back and then another, until his shoulders were pressed against the opposite wall, and reassessed his situation. Lucy had brought him here for a reason and he trusted her, but now she was slinking away from the door, head low. His instinct was still telling him to turn back, but without any real basis other than Lucy's odd behaviour and the risk of the unknown. He couldn't sense Adam here, the only sure sign of danger that would've had him running toward the exit. Nor could he sense Philip, but that wasn't reassuring either, as Philip had proved to be less than reliable. No, there was something here, something--no, someone, a presence he'd only just recently encountered.
It was Rose, it had to be. Jack closed his eyes and inhaled and there it was, a hint of spice on the air, just enough to make sure Jack didn't imagine it. Opening his eyes, he immediately narrowed them, more suspicious than ever. It was obvious that he'd been drawn away from the others and now the question before him was whether to suss out Rose's intent or turn his back on the mystery and return to Ianto and his team.
His choice was taken away when the door to the attic stairs slammed all the way open, bouncing against the wall. A sharp wind blew up out of nowhere and Lucy, who'd almost disappeared around the corner, was suddenly caught up in a maelstrom of energy that began dragging her backward toward the door and then up the stairs, no matter how hard she dug in her heels. Ears flat, mouth open in a silent howl, it was clear she was terrified.
"No!"
Ghost or not, Jack wasn't going to allow Lucy become a casualty of whatever war was being waged in Caernarfon Hall. Stepping in direct line of the raging wind that was inexorably pulling Lucy upward into the attic, Jack followed, struggling to keep his balance as he was caught up in the same strong current. It dragged at his clothes and stole his breath as he staggered up the stairs, bracing his forearms on the walls. He had no idea what awaited him up there, no idea how he was going to help Lucy, but wouldn't abandon her.
He was lifted off his feet as he crossed attic's threshold. Grabbing the door frame, he clawed at the light switch, turning on the bulbs above before torrents of spice-filled air batted his hand away and tumbled him to the floor in the middle of the room. Sliding hard against the wood, he came up against the old wardrobe, the air knocked out of his lungs and his world going black when his forehead collided with the edge.
He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious when clarity began to return. He was still pressed up against the wardrobe, curled into an uncomfortable ball on his right shoulder, in utter darkness. Struggling to sit up, he coughed, gasping in lungfuls of air scented with cloves and thick with dust as he manoeuvred into an upright position sitting with his back to the wardrobe, a quick inspection of the sore, spongy spot on his temple revealing the unmistakeable warm stickiness of blood. The air was still moving with the currents of an unknown wind, less violent than before, yet still strong enough to lift the hair from the back of his neck.
Climbing to his feet, his palm pressed to the wound in his head, he kept his back to the wardrobe, his free hand wide and flat against its smooth surface, giving him much needed balance. The wind abated abruptly, the only sound remaining in the room the creak of the bulbs swinging on their wires and his own harsh breathing.
It was time to get out. He staggered toward where he hoped the door would be, only to be flung back by an unseen force, as if he'd hit a rubber wall. He fell again, this time landing on his left shoulder, what little breath he'd regained knocked out of him as he rolled onto his knees and hands. His left wrist gave out and he gasped as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm. Wrapping the fingers of his right hand around the sore wrist, he flexed it carefully, relieved when it didn't seem to be broken.
Then, impossibly, he sensed Ianto reaching out to him, barely a whisper that brushed against his senses yet so overflowing with confusion and fear that Jack flinched. Cradling his wrist to his chest, eyes tightly shut, he rolled upward into a crouch and tried to answer Ianto's desperate plea. At first he felt nothing, then he felt them connect somehow, so strong, so palpable, it was almost as though Ianto was beside him, and the sensation shocked him into letting slip the tight control he'd been holding over the pain of his injured wrist and the throbbing in his head. He could feel the echo of that pain hit Ianto and bounce back, the unexpected strength of Ianto's reaction driving Jack back down on one knee. The movement jarred his wrist and sent another a bolt of pain up his arm and into his shoulder, yet he fought it off as he tried to deepen the connexion and somehow communicate his whereabouts. Yet it took only that brief break in his concentration to shatter the link instead of intensify it, tearing them apart in a heartbeat. Jack only had time to realise that Ianto was calling to him and then his presence was gone, leaving Jack breathless and devastated.
Things were moving faster than Jack could comprehend. No one knew he was in the attic and his communication with Ianto had been too brief and too scattered to help. He knew Ianto was looking for him but had no idea where to find him, and that meant Jack had to find his own way out. Taking a step back, he squinted through the darkness, at first seeing nothing, but as he waited, he began to pick out an iridescent, coppery shimmer that floated between him and the door. Once again rising to his feet, he reached out with his good arm and swept it through the air, amazed when the sparkles separated and flowed back together, much like a lazy burn tumbling around a smooth rock. There was no menace in the phenomenon, no emotion at all, yet when Jack took a step toward the door, the sparkles began to gather together, casting off enough golden light that parts of the room became illuminated.
Looking around, he tried to spot something he could use to break through Rose's barrier, and that's when he saw Lucy, sprawled out on the floor near the far wall, a mere reflection of her usual self bathed in Rose's light, her eyes closed and her head resting on one outstretched paw. There was an unnatural stillness to her now, an absence of any animation that had once infused her with whatever life force had kept her tied to Caernarfon Hall.
"Oh, no," Jack breathed, "oh, Lucy, no."
He ran over to her and dropped to his knees by her side. By the time he reached her she was nearly transparent, though she managed to lift her head and thump her tail once as Jack drew near. It was evident she was weakening and there was nothing Jack could do to stop it. Crouching low, he stroked a hand over her form as if he was trying to comfort a living being, a silent sob choking him as she tried to lick his fingers. After one last phantom stroke to her muzzle, he watched her fade away to nothing, not even a stirring of dust to mark her passing.
Dropping his head into his hand, Jack let out a shuddering breath, his eyes filling with hot tears, the deep sense of loss curdling his stomach. This was his fault, this was the cost of his damnable curiosity, a product of his long-held arrogance that made him think only of satisfying his endless need to know more. Now Lucy, once dead in this world but living happily in another, had paid the price and Ianto--how would Ianto forgive him for this?
"You have to let me go." The words stumbled out, a plea to no one, a demand that went unheard. His team, Ianto, all of them would be searching for him and he was lost and trapped and with Lucy's passing, so alone. Ianto needed him, Ianto was unprotected, Ianto was vulnerable to Adam's attack--the words reverberated in his head, fear and desperation stinging his eyes and tightening the muscles of his throat. Fear, pure and unrelenting, swept through him, weakening his knees and stealing the air from his lungs. It was so strong that just for an instant, he could feel Ianto's reaction to it, his feelings flowing back to Jack in another wave of terrified confusion. Jack reached out, grasping at the tenuous thread between them, willing Ianto to see where he was being held hostage.
Then that too was taken away from him, the thread snapping and the connexion lost once more. Jack collapsed back to the floor, his forehead nearly brushing its dusty surface. He had no idea if Ianto was able to grasp anything about Jack's location and even if he had, there was no reason to believe that Ianto was in any way able to come to Jack's aid.
Now he knew what he had to do. Struggling to his feet, he allowed anger to take hold inside him, anger that he'd been taken hostage, that sweet Lucy was gone, that his team and Ianto were at risk. He clasped his fingers around his injured wrist once more and faced the door, preparing himself for whatever force was going to try and stop him. Lowering his shoulder, he took one step forward, then another, but the closer he got to the door, the more he became aware of resistance. Another step and it seemed as though he was pushing against an inflated rubber ball, soft and yielding but only to a point. Jack tried several angles but was rebuffed each time, the final attempt hitting his injured wrist at an odd angle and sending a rocket of pain up his inner arm and across his shoulder. It was strong enough that he tucked his wrist in close to his body and curved over it, breathing hard through his nose and gritting his teeth as he willed the pain to subside. The throbbing in his head redoubled and he had to take a few steps back until he was once more against the wardrobe, letting it support him as he tried to regain his composure.
Pushing back against the pain, Jack gritted his teeth as he concentrated once more how he was going to get out of the attic. Rose wasn't relenting and it appeared that there was nothing Jack could do to get past her. He briefly considered searching for a weapon, but nothing in his experience had ever taught him how to harm, let alone vanquish, an incorporeal being.
That's when he realized that if he couldn't leave, maybe he could bring someone to him. He wouldn't bother with screaming--he was two floors above the closest room where anyone from his team could be. He was in an attic filled with antiques, there should be hundreds of things that could make noise, but a quick search revealed nothing that he'd consider useful. He needed something loud and heavy, something that would reverberate through thick wood that was hundreds of years old.
The only piece of furniture seemingly heavy enough was the old wardrobe that had revealed the secret of the mines. Jack walked around it, assessing its weight and size, then placed his shoulder against one back corner, giving it a quick shove to test his ability to move it. The wardrobe shifted, confirming Jack's belief that it was top heavy. Bracing his swelling wrist tight against his chest, he set his jaw and pushed against the wardrobe's edge, sweat breaking out on his brow as cold fear gave him the strength he needed.
The old wood creaked as it rocked forward, then rocked back, driving Jack sideways as his boots slipped on the dust-covered floor. Desperation combined with adrenaline gave him the impetus to quickly regain his balance and try again, this time succeeding as the wardrobe tipped over and fell to the floor with a deafening thud that sent bolts of pain through Jack's head. He backed away, his good hand pressed to his head near the wound, afraid that even if anyone heard the sound, they'd either assign the noise to the random sounds made by an old house or, more troubling, they were too caught up in whatever was happening on the lower floors.
Frantic to find something else that would make enough noise to be heard downstairs, Jack picked up an old lamp that he hoped would make a differently pitched sound when he slammed it against the wall. Cocking back his arm to throw it, he aimed the lamp and was on the verge of letting it fly when a sharp crack echoed through the attic, followed by a bolt of energy from floor to ceiling directly in front of him, sizzling like a lightning strike but giving off no heat. A sharp smell of ozone filled the air as the darkened overhead bulbs burst into pieces, showering Jack in bits of glass. He dropped the lamp and ducked his head, protecting his eyes with his good arm.
Squinting up through eyes drawn tight, Jack could see that Rose's form had transformed. She had turned from nearly opaque to a quivering ribbon, rivers of barely visible pale gold shimmers sliding down her surface, flowing like water. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but from that beauty poured unutterable sadness. It was deep, soul-wrenching, the very opposite of her original indifference, striking Jack squarely in the chest and robbing the strength from his knees. For the first time, Jack felt as though he was truly connecting with Rose, and from her he was experiencing that same sense of loss and pain that he'd first felt from Philip they night they'd met outside the music room. She was less an unknown entity now than a wounded animal, exhausted and trembling, at the end of her strength.
"I don't understand," he muttered, "what's going on?"
Jack straightened slowly, every beat of his heart reverberating through his throbbing wrist and pounding head. Yet all he felt was vast sorrow for the creature in front of him, for her and the two others like her and the tragedy they seemed to share. As Jack watched she began to fold in on herself, thickening and lumpish, the beautiful golden translucence turning chalky and dull.
The tenuous link established by the depth of Rose's pain began to morph once more, deepening and twisting harder into Jack as if Rose was trying to reach him and unable to control the attempt. He tentatively reached back, opening his mind to her as he would any spirit he'd met in his travels. Keeping up as much of a barrier as possible to protect himself, he was still bombarded with sensation that quickly descended into pure, stinging fear.
And he knew that fear, he understood what generated such despair. It was the fear of losing a loved one, or the inability to keep that loved one safe. Rose was feeling it now, communicating through that fear her sense of failure and defeat. Jack started shaking with the power of her emotions, unable to discern its centre. For Rose to have been combative one minute and seemingly bowed in surrender the next told him that events beyond the walls of the attic were unfolding--and it had been Rose's intent to keep Jack apart from Ianto, his friends, perhaps even Adam, but whatever her purpose, she'd failed.
"Wait," he whispered, one hand outstretched, "wait, let me help. Let me out of here, let me go to my friends. Whatever Philip and Adam are to you, however you're tied together, whatever your history, I know we can help. Just, please--let me go."
He held his breath and waited. Rose was still between him and the door, and although she was diminished, Jack sensed she was in no way weakened enough to let him pass. But he had to try, he had to get out of the attic somehow. Taking one step toward the door, then another, he watched her carefully, his heart aching for her pain but desperation driving him forward. When he met no resistance, he quickened his pace, carefully skirting Rose's fading edges. He'd just reached the door when Rose reacted, sliding in front of him and blocking the door once more.
"No!" Jack took a step back, raising his fist. "Let me go! Let me--"
His next words were choked off as Rose brightened almost beyond what Jack's eyes could bear. She rose into a glittering tower, curling over him in a great, golden wave, then crashing down on his head in a shower of light. Closing his eyes, Jack raised his good arm over his eyes once more as the sparks rained down yet he felt nothing, his only connexion to Rose the scent of cinnamon that swirled inside the room.
Then she was gone and with her, the only source of light in the attic. Jack hardly dare breathe as he dropped his arm, his hand going instinctively to wrap around his injured wrist. Standing in complete darkness, it took a moment for his senses to catch up to his actions, but when they did, he stretched out his hurt wrist in surprise. There was no pain, not even lingering soreness as he flexed it back and forth. Lifting his hand to his brow, the stickiness of drying blood was still there, yet the contusion was gone as if it'd never happened.
More importantly, he was free. There was nothing between him and the door and he ran to it, flinging it open and stumbling down the near pitch black staircase that led to the corridor below, his hands--his two good hands--giving him much needed balance. It felt as though his feet barely touched the risers as he descended, intent on rejoining his team and telling them the incredible events he'd just lived through.
The quick flash of a torch's beam bouncing off the ceiling alerted him to someone else nearby. "Hey!" he yelled. "Hey, I'm --" He'd just turned the corner at the bottom of the attic stairs when he ran into Martha, knocking her off balance. She clutched at his shoulder so she could steady herself, then threw her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace.
"Oh, Jesus, Jack," Martha panted, "thank God I've found you." She twisted away and tugged at the cuff of his shirt, pulling toward the servants stairs that led to the lower floors. "Come on, we've got to hurry."
His own recent experiences forgotten in the face of Martha's desperation, Jack followed her down the servant's stairs to the same floor as the music room. It never occurred to him not to follow her, even though he'd promised Ianto he wouldn't go near Adam. Everything had changed, he knew that now, and even though their quick descent hadn't allowed any conversation, his own body already reacting to both Adam's growing proximity and an underlying awareness that Ianto was in trouble.
As soon as he turned the corner into the corridor that led to the music room, Jack was nearly knocked back by the power emanating from behind its door, a power he recognized as Adam, stronger than ever. He barely noticed when Gwen rushed up to him and hugged him, though he spared her a smile as he kept a fast pace toward the music room.
"Fill me in," he said, "quickly."
"Right, okay," Gwen pushed her hair out of her eyes, "you disappeared, we all went looking for you, we lost power, Ianto said we should keep searching, we heard a loud sound, we came up to the music room to investigate and now Ianto's trapped inside and we can't get him out." Her voice cracked on her last words, betraying the same fear that was beginning to erode Jack's composure.
But he couldn't afford to let emotion get in the way now. Pausing just long enough to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Jack nodded. "Thanks. Are mobiles still working?"
Gwen nodded and fished her phone out of her pocket. "What do you need?"
"Light. I need someone to pull the emergency lanterns from the SUVs and get them up here. As soon as we get inside the music room, I'm going to need to be able to see and I need more than torchlight."
"Done." Gwen turned away, passing on Jack's request. He turned to the door.
"I'm going inside."
Martha tugged at Jack's arm. "You can't get in, the door's jammed or something."
"Aim your torch at the door."
"What? Why?"
Ignoring her, Jack pressed his fingers to the cold surface of the door and closed his eyes. He could feel Ianto just beyond his reach but more terrifyingly, Adam was in there, and he was strong. Philip, Rose, maybe they were close, but all Jack could concentrate on was Ianto and Adam, alone together.
He had to get in there, but he knew that no human strength would get through the music room door. It was time to call for reinforcements, and not of the breathing kind. Jack knew that the spectres of Caernarfon Hall were sentient at varying levels and that they'd reacted to events over the past few days. In their way, they were as attached to Ianto and his family as they were to the house and grounds--Lucy was proof enough of that. Now Jack needed their strength, their focus and their energy to take apart the barriers both physical and spiritual that stood between him and Ianto.
"Stand back." Jack didn't wait for Gwen and Martha to move, instead sweeping them gently aside with one arm until they were several feet from the threshold. "Keep shining your torches on the door."
"What are you doing?" Gwen whispered. "You're not going to try and break down the door, are you?"
"Not exactly."
Closing eyes, Jack began to concentrate, opening himself up psychically to the ghosts of Caernarfon Hall as never before. He held nothing back, inviting them all to join him, the spirits he'd seen and the ones he'd only experienced as no more than a flutter against his consciousness. The grounds keeper, the woman taking cuttings in the garden, and so many more. He'd barely had time to scratch the surface of the inhabitants before the drama had started with Adam but he'd known they were there all along. It was time to gather together the only forces that could help him now.
And they came, flying to Jack's side as if they'd been waiting for this moment. The energy they brought was so strong that the air crackled around Jack, so evident that he could feel Martha and Gwen step away, could hear their gasps as the ghosts gathered around him.
Eyes still closed, Jack raised his arms from his side, palms up, inviting the spectres to feel his fear and his anger and his determination to bring to the fight to Adam and save everything he'd come to hold so dear. He felt himself growing stronger with each ghostly addition, able to channel the energy they brought and keep his mind focussed and clear. He was vaguely aware of other members of his team arriving, filling the hallway beyond the invisible perimeter that the ghosts established around Jack and filling the space with the light from their torches. If they spoke, he couldn't hear them, and he knew they knew better than to interfere unless he appeared to be in some kind of physical danger.
A wave of heat began to rise around him, and behind his closed eyes he could see light leaking in beneath his lashes, telling him that the spectres had manifested enough to be visible. He opened his eyes to a pale grey glow that enveloped him in warmth, a comforting presence that was no less determined than he was. He turned his head so that he could see the team, their faces bathed in grey light, their eyes wide as for the first time, they saw the evidence of what Jack had always told them was true.
"Don't be afraid," Jack whispered, "it's the cavalry. Stay back."
He returned his attention to the music room door, bringing his hands forward as if preparing to push it open. Energy began to crackle from his fingertips and palms, flowing toward the wooden door that separated him from Ianto. At first it seemed to work--the door began to turn pale as the energy began to consume it, and all Jack needed was the tiniest crack and he'd push through.
But just as he felt the energy start to break through, he met resistance, an almost physical sensation of being pushed back. Hard on that realization came another, so unexpected that it knocked Jack back a step and broke his concentration.
"No, Jack. Don't."
Jack dropped his hands, the mists of the spectres floating around him in confusion. Ianto's voice in his head was clear, as clear if he was standing beside him, now lacking the dissonance their earlier psychic meetings but shrouded in pain. Even now, Ianto was trying to protect Jack from whatever he himself was facing, but the strain in that voice only spurred Jack on to regroup and try again.
Raising his hands once more, Jack gathered the ghosts around him, stressing urgency as he concentrated all his focus on preparing Ianto for the inevitable, warning him that Jack was coming inside no matter the cost. A ripple of pain washed over Jack and he staggered, his body recognizing the threat before his mind could catch up. He was out of time--Adam was on the attack and Ianto was losing the battle.
The ghosts could sense the urgency as well. Their energy swelled around Jack and burst from his hands in a final assault. The door began to glow, cold, white and blinding, shuddering against the pressure of their onslaught. Every muscle of Jack's body strained to break through both the door and Ianto's resistance, staring through narrowed eyes as the door began to crack from top to bottom in long splinters, oily black mist escaping and then recoiling as it met the pure white of the spectres' power.
"Everyone, move back!" Jack didn't wait to see if his team obeyed but prayed they would--if the door shattered, they could get hit with debris. He could feel Ianto weakening on the other side and that spurred him to attack the door with his bare hands, pounding the splintering wood with his fists.
More hands joined his and he realised he should've known better, Torchwood Paranormal would never let him fight this battle alone. Martha and Andy had come up on either side of him to pound the disintegrating door with their torches. As soon as there was a wedge large enough, Jack shoved his hand through and grabbed a shard of wood, tearing it off and tossing it aside. Then he stood back, the spectres scattering once more as Martha and Andy tore the door apart.
And then it was quiet, the only sound the heaving breathing and soft gasps coming from his team. The ghosts had fled, their purpose achieved, but Jack's eyes were only on what he could see beyond the door, even as the rest of his team huddled around him, Owen trying to reach for Jack's hands, now bruised and bloodied. Pulling away and ignoring them, Jack kicked and punched out the jagged edges of wood that remained and stepped into the music room, his gaze drawn in--and then up, following the path of someone's torchlight.
He could hear their distress but as Martha and Gwen surged forward, the light from their torches sweeping the room, he thrust out his arms to prevent them or any of the others from getting closer. It was too late for them now, too late for any of them to help fight a battle they couldn't understand. It was down to Jack now, Jack and the monster that had been trying to seduce him from the very beginning, the creature that now held Ianto captive.
"Ianto."
Jack whispered the word in his head, knowing without a doubt that Ianto could hear him. This would be their salvation, this gift of silent communication, and as Jack walked into the middle of the room, he repeated Ianto's name, rewarded when Ianto looked down from where he was suspended near the ceiling, a quick quirk of his lips indicating that he'd heard Jack clearly.
Whatever Jack had been expecting, the scene inside the music room was yet more horrifying. There was the stale, oil-tinged breeze that that crept along Jack's skin, though the windows remained closed behind their heavy drapery, and a grey mist hung low to the ground and clung in thick ropes to the walls. Adam was all around, his malicious presence and dark promises more menacing than ever, but Jack only saw Ianto.
Even floating in the air several feet above the music room's worn carpet, Ianto appeared as unperturbed as ever, only a slight tightness around his eyes betraying any strain. But as surely as if he'd been tied with real ropes, he was bound by the same icy mist, his arms rigid at his side, hands clenched into fists. There was a coil of fog wrapped around his shoulders, pulsing and dull and malevolent, entwined around his legs and ankles.
But around Ianto's neck, glowing softly with lavender light in the murky grey of the room, were the beads of his necklace, and as their gazes met, Ianto's slight nod told Jack almost everything he needed to know.
"Are you all right?" Jack spoke aloud, the sound of his voice loud and dissonant in the room. His team stood behind him, ready to move at his command, and he could feel their confusion and fear, so his question was meant for them to find a verbal lifeline to hold on to. They too needed to hear Ianto's response, to know that he was still fighting.
"We're...tired," Ianto responded, his voice raspy. Jack noted the response with a quirk of his eyebrow, hearing so much more in those two words.
"I know," he whispered, "but don't worry, we're almost home." He turned to the Torchwood team, all of them tense and poised to do whatever Jack required of them.
"Okay, this is how it's going to work. Rhys, Andy, I need those lanterns in here, put them anywhere that makes sense, but stay away from Ianto. As soon as you're done, I want everyone on the other side of that doorway. No one comes back in until I say so."
Gwen was the first to react. "Jack, no, we're not going! Look at Ianto, he's floating in bloody mid-air! We have to get him down, we have to--"
"We're not going anywhere." Rhys crossed him arms over his chest and stared at Jack. "I don't pretend to understand what's going on here, but we've got to help Ianto and you can't do that yourself."
Jack shook his head. "There's no time to argue. Ianto is being help captive by a force you can't see, let alone fight."
Andy pushed past Jack and went to stand near Ianto's legs. "Can't we just pull him down, then?"
"I'm right here, you know," Ianto croaked, "Please don't talk about me as if I'm a child's piñata."
Andy reached toward Ianto's hand. "If we just--"
"Don't touch him," Jack snapped. He stepped forward and blocked Andy from getting any closer. "He's trapped by psychic energy, disrupting it could hurt both of you." He placed a gentle hand on Andy's shoulder, leading him back toward the team. "We'll figure something out, but right now, I need light and then I need everyone out of here."
The team scrambled to bring in the lanterns, lighting them and setting them in a crude semi-circle. Jack kept his eyes on Adam but his attention was focussed on Ianto, sending comfort and strength through their tenuous psychic contact as the room filled with light and shadows. And what he received back--dear God, what he received from Ianto was trust, patience, a flash of dry humour through the pain, and most of all, strength returned in equal measure. They were fighting as one now, united not only in their desire to defeat Adam, but in ways Jack could never have imagined even a week ago. Jack would not fail Ianto, he would not fail this family, he would not fail his team.
"All right, Jack," Martha was standing in front of him, "what are you going to do?"
Jack glanced back over his shoulder, his mouth setting in a grim line as he saw that Ianto had closed his eyes, his face pale.
"The four of us are going to have a little talk." He held up his hands, looking at each team member in turn. "All of you, listen to me. For years, we've chased after ghosts and shadows and things that go bump in the night. But we've got a real nightmare, right here, right now, and Adam isn't going to go away until he has his say."
"Jack..."
It was Ianto's voice, cracking and exhausted and yet vaguely annoyed, that spurred Jack into action. "That's it, everyone wait outside in the hall. And whatever happens, whatever you see, do not come back in here until I say so."
Jack watched them only long enough to make sure that they gathered together on the other side of the shattered door, then turned his attention to Ianto. He walked over to him and despite his admonition to Andy, he placed his hand on Ianto's ankle. The throb of energy was there, the same energy that flowed through Ianto and kept him suspended. It was malevolent and strong, but Jack could withstand it because he knew Adam would allow him.
"Let him go," Jack said aloud, fully aware that Adam was close and listening, "let him go and we'll talk."
Ianto jerked. "No, don't--"
Jack tightened his grip on Ianto's ankle. "Whatever it takes to manifest, go ahead. No one will hurt you."
Ianto shuddered, the tremors coming through Jack's fingers communicating more than just Ianto's desire that Jack not put himself in a position of weakness against Adam. Philip was there, as Jack had surmised, fighting to keep Ianto safe, even as the rope of energy tightened around Ianto's body. They were both beginning to fade, and through his psychic link to Ianto, he could feel determination but also fear--and that fear sparked a great anger in Jack. This threat to his family--for Ianto was as surely a member of his family now--had to stop.
Jack turned and opened his arms, spreading them wide as he spoke to the roiling grey fog. "C'mon, you bastard, here's your ticket out of here. But first, you have to show up and tell me what you want."
The balance in the room began to shift, the burnt oil smell receding, replaced by Adam's more recognizable scent of decay and rot. Jack stepped in front of Ianto, facing the centre of the room where a dark form was beginning to coalesce, the freezing mist coiling into a column, much like Rose had in the attic, only instead of her golden glow there were only patches of darkness twisting and turning in the light
"That's it," Jack whispered, "come to me. Let's get this party started."
"I'm here."
No more than a deep-throated hiss in Jack's head, but a slight sound from Ianto told Jack that he'd heard it, too. Jack took a step back until he could feel Ianto's knee brush his shoulder, the brief touch grounding him. It was time to confront Adam, to force him to loosen his hold, and the only way Jack knew how to do that was to bargain.
"You want out of here, I know," Jack said. He had no idea if or when the telepathy with Ianto would fail, but he needed his team to know what was happening as well. "But I won't do anything for you until you release Ianto."
A brief flash of grey shot through the black of Adam's manifestation, giving off a hint of pleasure mixed with calculation. To release Adam into the world was the last thing Jack intended, but nothing was negotiable until Ianto was by his side. He waited, watching as Adam's form swirled and twisted, wondering what his next move would be if Adam refused.
But there was still something Jack had that Adam needed, and so with only a spark of cold light and the sensation of something slimy brushing against his cheek giving him warning, Jack turned just in time to catch Ianto as he fell to the floor, slumping into Jack's arms.
"Ianto!" Jack held him close, alarmed by Ianto's stuttered breathing and the weakness in his knees that had him leaning heavily against Jack. But Ianto rallied quickly, straightening his back and pushing against Jack's shoulder's until he was upright. Unwilling to let go, Jack framed Ianto's face between his palms, searching for the truth in Ianto's eyes, truth that he knew Ianto was all too capable of hiding. But even in the light given off by the lanterns scattered throughout the room, Jack could see that Ianto was still pale and shaken, he was mostly unharmed. The copper beads still glowed with a faint purple effervescence, a reminder of Philip's continued presence and protection.
"I'm fine." Ianto stepped back and tugged his jumper into place, shoulders straight and mouth set in a firm line as he gave Jack an affirming nod. Jack admired the effort, even though they both knew it was a falsehood meant to get them through the next few minutes. In fact, both Philip and Ianto had been weakened by their captivity; Jack could feel the heat coming off Ianto's body where he'd been wrapped in Adam's coils of energy. There was a thin line of angry-looking red welts on Ianto's neck, and Jack had no doubt that Ianto's body was littered with Adam's mark.
"Debatable," Jack said with a quick smile, "but we'll argue about that later."
"Ianto," Gwen whispered from the doorway, "all right?"
Ianto blinked and turned his head to see the group huddled at the music room door. Had the situation not been so dire, Jack would've been let his concerned team come in and offer their support, since Ianto looked like a man whose life had spiralled out of his control. But Adam was waiting, and until he discovered what Adam wanted, Jack would have to trust Philip to keep Ianto as safe as possible.
"Right," Jack took Ianto's hand and tugged, "let's get you out of the line of fire."
Ianto gave Jack's hand a squeeze, his gaze still on Team Torchwood. "No," he said absently, "too late for that." He motioned toward his feet, drawing Jack's gaze downward to see two identical coils of energy wrapped around Ianto's ankles.
Jack bit back a curse but forced a smile to his lips. "Then this is it," he said, "now we find out the mystery. Are you ready?"
"I'm ready," Ianto nodded. The simple reply worried Jack, not its source but in the light quiver of satisfaction that resonated from Adam. It was disquieting enough to make Jack try once more to suggest that Ianto take himself out of the action as much as possible.
"I, uh, don't suppose you'd consider watching from the sidelines. I can't get you out of here, but maybe we can keep you out of harm's way."
Ianto tilted his head to the side, eyebrow arched, one hand going to his throat to stroke the glowing beads of his necklace. "I know Adam wants me here and I doubt he'd let me--us--take that liberty. Besides," he added with a small smile, "you know I'd never leave you here alone."
"Pigheaded and beautiful, an irresistible combination." Jack placed his palm to Ianto's cheek. "Let's do this."
Jack released him and turned to face Adam, who'd been silently undulating, dull streaks of light sparking at random through his misshapen column. He could feel Adam's impatience but more importantly, Adam had started to gnaw at the edges of Jack's consciousness. That beguiling dark aura that had captured Jack the first time he'd encountered Adam was back, only now it was stronger, slowly being unleashed to draw Jack in instead of the onslaught of sensation he'd originally received.
It was hard, so hard, to ignore Adam's invitation, but it was just as hard to explain the attraction. Jack only knew Adam as hurtful, a spiteful entity that lashed out with Ianto more often than not his target. Yet underneath all that anger and enmity, Jack could sense loneliness and pain and grief, something Adam shared with Philip and Rose. It was a connexion that had tickled the back of Jack's mind since meeting Rose in Ianto's office, never having experienced all three entities at the same time and yet understanding deep in his bones that they were tied together by more than their manifestations.
Staring at Adam now, holding his concentration like a barrier against Adam's ever encroaching aura, he had a flash of intuition that made him take an involuntary step backward, bumping against Ianto who put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Jack--"
"They're related," Jack muttered. "Oh, my God, Ianto, that's it--they're a family."
The realisation was so unexpected yet fit so perfectly with the emotions he'd experienced from all three of them that Jack lost his focus and let down his guard--and that was all that Adam needed. Jack had little warning--a thrill of electricity dancing across his arms and legs, a fine knife's edge of cold air that blew through him--and then Adam was right there, demanding Jack's attention, pressing against his will, bombarding him psychically with pictures and colours and tastes and sounds. It was overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time, more of Adam than Jack had yet experienced but only a taste of what Adam told him he was willing to share.
"Let me."
The phrase was a soft growl in his head, the two words swirling amidst the beautiful chaos Adam was feeding into Jack's imagination. The world around him began to fade and he instinctively reached for Ianto, needing that touch to ground him as the desire to give in to Adam grew ever stronger. He felt his hand taken in a strong grip and then Ianto was standing directly in front of him, blue eyes wide with fear.
"Fight him, Jack!" Ianto grabbed Jack's other hand and pulled both of them tight to his own chest. "Stay here, with me!"
Jack couldn't ignore Ianto's pleas, no matter how hard Adam pushed, no matter what he promised. Jack pushed back harder, his desire to remain with Ianto, to keep him and his team safe, overrode the fantastic visions that were being to take shape inside his head, giving Jack more insight into who--or what--Adam was. He could feel the frantic beat of Ianto's heart beneath his hands and he anchored his own will to that rhythm, letting it guide him back into the present and beyond that, to the future he saw in Ianto's eyes.
Control began to come back as Adam retreated in the face of Jack's implacable resolve. It was a test of wills to keep Adam contained and open to communication, even though he knew Adam wanted so much more. He wanted Jack, to use him as a vessel to escape the four walls of the music room, to break through whatever it was that kept him inside. Jack knew he was winning the battle as awareness returned, along with a heightened sense of Adam's frustration. He kept his gaze on Ianto's face, their hands still entwined, but just as Jack was preparing to shove Adam far enough away so that he didn't feel assaulted on every level, Adam changed tactics.
It was the look of confusion on Ianto's face that told Jack that the battle had moved beyond the inner workings of his own mind. Ianto's gaze was locked on his but as Jack watched, scratches began to appear on his face, long, red, angry welts that criss-crossed his pale skin. Jack released his grip on Ianto's hands and gripped his shoulders, feeling all the horror that Adam wanted him to feel as Ianto faltered, swaying in Jack's hold.
"Let me."
In a desperate attempt to forestall the disaster about to overtake them, Jack looked over his shoulder, prepared to call out his team and have them attempt to remove Ianto from the room. But even that was lost to him when he saw the doorway was empty, the others nowhere in sight. Turning back to Ianto, Jack saw his own terror mirrored in Ianto's expression, but even worse was the pain that clouded Ianto's eyes. It was pain and fear that Ianto was still fighting, but the fading lavender light of the beads on his necklace told Jack that he and Philip were losing the battle.
There was nothing else to do, no way out. Jack knew what Adam wanted and he prayed that giving in to him would halt the torture. If he could keep a part of himself intact, if he could meet Adam halfway and get him to stop his attacks--if there was a way to reason with him--Jack would try anything, promise anything, to make Adam stop.
Dropping his hands from Ianto's shoulders, steeling himself for the ordeal ahead, Jack took a step back. He pressed his hands together and offered Ianto an apologetic smile, wishing he only that he could've spared Ianto all the pain he'd suffered to get to this point.
"I'll be back," Jack whispered. He had just enough time to witness the truth of what he was about to do hit Ianto, barely a moment to regret the utter devastation in Ianto's eyes, before closing his own and taking the battle to a place where Ianto could not follow.
"Let me." The words were victorious now, tinged with contempt for Jack's weakness. Jack let his head fall back, eyes still closed, and let his thoughts speak for him.
"Come on, you son of a bitch. Show me what you got."
And the world around him shattered.
"You have to let me go."
Jack didn't care that his voice cracked, that desperation soaked each word. Ianto needed him, his team needed him, and the only thing that stood between Jack and the ones he loved was the one thing he couldn't argue with, cajole, threaten or bribe:
Rose.
He hated the name they'd chosen for this thing now, a name that in no way befit the--the what? The ghost? The enemy? The monster that now kept him prisoner in the attic? Maybe it was worse that he sensed no evil from her--the term her used with great prejudice--or really, any kind of emotion at all, other than indifference to Jack's pleas and an implacable determination to keep Jack from returning downstairs.
If only he knew why.
Hindsight told him he'd been foolish to not tell anyone where he'd been going, but he'd thought that he had time whilst everyone else was getting set up for the investigation. It'd been Lucy he'd been worried about, Lucy who made another dramatic appearance in the foyer just as Jack had come down the stairs, intent on retrieving the spectrometer and rejoining Ianto and Tosh. With the power returning to their instruments and the plan to investigate the music room properly back on track, he'd been anxious to take his place in the van and lead his team.
But Lucy had never failed them. She'd been part of the Hall's mystery from the beginning, easily recognised by Jack the moment he'd arrived as one of the more strongly manifested spirits. Messenger, companion, harbinger of oncoming events, she'd served all those purposes without once evincing any hostility or placing any of them in danger. As much as one could trust a spectre long passed from this world, Jack trusted Lucy and beyond that, had come to feel genuine affection for her. To see her as distraught as she seemed when he saw her appear in the foyer, he hadn't thought twice about trying to find the cause of her distress.
Yes, it had been foolish, but that had never stopped Jack Harkness before. Nor had the concept of waiting for something to happen as opposed to leaping forward to find the answers that had eluded them so far. Lucy had demanded his attention as soon as he'd set foot on the foyer's parquet floor, tail tucked and shaking in fear at his feet before running down the hallway toward Ianto's office and returning when Jack didn't follow immediately.
He'd spoken aloud to her then, a reflexive attempt to get a feel for what she wanted to tell him, but she'd run down the hallway again and hadn't returned. That had been enough to worry Jack, so he'd decided in a split second to follow her, but follow her only so far because his real fear was that Ianto had returned to his office and something terrible had befallen him along the way. He'd been reassured when she'd led him deeper into the house instead of toward the office, but had his first qualms when they'd stopped by a door he'd yet to go through since coming to the Hall. Having left his earpiece behind in the van, he knew he was breaking his own protocol by going off alone and un-wired, but as Lucy became more agitated, he didn't want to lose time by going back. She was so upset that Jack could only surmise that Ianto was hurt or in danger, and if that was the case, there was no time to waste.
Decision made, he turned the handle and opened the door, revealing a small landing and a narrow staircase that went both up to the higher floors and down to the storerooms below. Lucy had gone through the door and up the stairs so quickly as to be almost be a blur, but had stopped on the next landing and turned back to Jack, her entire body shaking with silent, desperate barking. Jack took the stairs quickly, urgency and fear at war with a growing sense of unease. He was in unknown territory now, and no one knew where he was.
Still, he argued with himself, he's in the house, the lights are on and as soon as his fears were allayed he would turn right around, go downstairs, and tell Ianto what happened. Ianto wouldn't be happy, but he'd understand once Jack explained Lucy's actions and would probably agree that Jack needed to take a moment to check it out before they resumed their investigations.
At least, that's what Jack hoped as he opened a door to follow Lucy, now several floors above the ground floor and, to his relief, on a different floor than the music room. As soon as he'd gotten his bearings, he realised she'd led him to the hallway at the back of the house, the narrow one he'd first seen when he and Ianto had gone into the attic.
"Is that it? Lucy, the attic?"
Lucy didn't react, but that was where she took Jack, pausing at the door with her ears drooping and her tail still low between her hind legs. He stopped and reached for the doorknob, then pulled back. Trusting Lucy was one thing, but this was crossing the kind of line that could get him into more trouble than he was ready to handle. There wasn't anything compelling him to continue, now that Lucy was no longer leading him. He hadn't been gone long enough for his team to miss him but he wasn't far from them noticing his absence, so with that thought, coupled with now almost screaming sensation along his nerves telling him to turn back, he knew it was time to retreat.
That's what he decided was the best course, but not without some reluctance. But even as he backed away, prepared to race down the back stairs and begin the investigation, the door leading to the attic's steps swung open a few inches, a clear invitation.
Jack took a step back and then another, until his shoulders were pressed against the opposite wall, and reassessed his situation. Lucy had brought him here for a reason and he trusted her, but now she was slinking away from the door, head low. His instinct was still telling him to turn back, but without any real basis other than Lucy's odd behaviour and the risk of the unknown. He couldn't sense Adam here, the only sure sign of danger that would've had him running toward the exit. Nor could he sense Philip, but that wasn't reassuring either, as Philip had proved to be less than reliable. No, there was something here, something--no, someone, a presence he'd only just recently encountered.
It was Rose, it had to be. Jack closed his eyes and inhaled and there it was, a hint of spice on the air, just enough to make sure Jack didn't imagine it. Opening his eyes, he immediately narrowed them, more suspicious than ever. It was obvious that he'd been drawn away from the others and now the question before him was whether to suss out Rose's intent or turn his back on the mystery and return to Ianto and his team.
His choice was taken away when the door to the attic stairs slammed all the way open, bouncing against the wall. A sharp wind blew up out of nowhere and Lucy, who'd almost disappeared around the corner, was suddenly caught up in a maelstrom of energy that began dragging her backward toward the door and then up the stairs, no matter how hard she dug in her heels. Ears flat, mouth open in a silent howl, it was clear she was terrified.
"No!"
Ghost or not, Jack wasn't going to allow Lucy become a casualty of whatever war was being waged in Caernarfon Hall. Stepping in direct line of the raging wind that was inexorably pulling Lucy upward into the attic, Jack followed, struggling to keep his balance as he was caught up in the same strong current. It dragged at his clothes and stole his breath as he staggered up the stairs, bracing his forearms on the walls. He had no idea what awaited him up there, no idea how he was going to help Lucy, but wouldn't abandon her.
He was lifted off his feet as he crossed attic's threshold. Grabbing the door frame, he clawed at the light switch, turning on the bulbs above before torrents of spice-filled air batted his hand away and tumbled him to the floor in the middle of the room. Sliding hard against the wood, he came up against the old wardrobe, the air knocked out of his lungs and his world going black when his forehead collided with the edge.
He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious when clarity began to return. He was still pressed up against the wardrobe, curled into an uncomfortable ball on his right shoulder, in utter darkness. Struggling to sit up, he coughed, gasping in lungfuls of air scented with cloves and thick with dust as he manoeuvred into an upright position sitting with his back to the wardrobe, a quick inspection of the sore, spongy spot on his temple revealing the unmistakeable warm stickiness of blood. The air was still moving with the currents of an unknown wind, less violent than before, yet still strong enough to lift the hair from the back of his neck.
Climbing to his feet, his palm pressed to the wound in his head, he kept his back to the wardrobe, his free hand wide and flat against its smooth surface, giving him much needed balance. The wind abated abruptly, the only sound remaining in the room the creak of the bulbs swinging on their wires and his own harsh breathing.
It was time to get out. He staggered toward where he hoped the door would be, only to be flung back by an unseen force, as if he'd hit a rubber wall. He fell again, this time landing on his left shoulder, what little breath he'd regained knocked out of him as he rolled onto his knees and hands. His left wrist gave out and he gasped as he felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm. Wrapping the fingers of his right hand around the sore wrist, he flexed it carefully, relieved when it didn't seem to be broken.
Then, impossibly, he sensed Ianto reaching out to him, barely a whisper that brushed against his senses yet so overflowing with confusion and fear that Jack flinched. Cradling his wrist to his chest, eyes tightly shut, he rolled upward into a crouch and tried to answer Ianto's desperate plea. At first he felt nothing, then he felt them connect somehow, so strong, so palpable, it was almost as though Ianto was beside him, and the sensation shocked him into letting slip the tight control he'd been holding over the pain of his injured wrist and the throbbing in his head. He could feel the echo of that pain hit Ianto and bounce back, the unexpected strength of Ianto's reaction driving Jack back down on one knee. The movement jarred his wrist and sent another a bolt of pain up his arm and into his shoulder, yet he fought it off as he tried to deepen the connexion and somehow communicate his whereabouts. Yet it took only that brief break in his concentration to shatter the link instead of intensify it, tearing them apart in a heartbeat. Jack only had time to realise that Ianto was calling to him and then his presence was gone, leaving Jack breathless and devastated.
Things were moving faster than Jack could comprehend. No one knew he was in the attic and his communication with Ianto had been too brief and too scattered to help. He knew Ianto was looking for him but had no idea where to find him, and that meant Jack had to find his own way out. Taking a step back, he squinted through the darkness, at first seeing nothing, but as he waited, he began to pick out an iridescent, coppery shimmer that floated between him and the door. Once again rising to his feet, he reached out with his good arm and swept it through the air, amazed when the sparkles separated and flowed back together, much like a lazy burn tumbling around a smooth rock. There was no menace in the phenomenon, no emotion at all, yet when Jack took a step toward the door, the sparkles began to gather together, casting off enough golden light that parts of the room became illuminated.
Looking around, he tried to spot something he could use to break through Rose's barrier, and that's when he saw Lucy, sprawled out on the floor near the far wall, a mere reflection of her usual self bathed in Rose's light, her eyes closed and her head resting on one outstretched paw. There was an unnatural stillness to her now, an absence of any animation that had once infused her with whatever life force had kept her tied to Caernarfon Hall.
"Oh, no," Jack breathed, "oh, Lucy, no."
He ran over to her and dropped to his knees by her side. By the time he reached her she was nearly transparent, though she managed to lift her head and thump her tail once as Jack drew near. It was evident she was weakening and there was nothing Jack could do to stop it. Crouching low, he stroked a hand over her form as if he was trying to comfort a living being, a silent sob choking him as she tried to lick his fingers. After one last phantom stroke to her muzzle, he watched her fade away to nothing, not even a stirring of dust to mark her passing.
Dropping his head into his hand, Jack let out a shuddering breath, his eyes filling with hot tears, the deep sense of loss curdling his stomach. This was his fault, this was the cost of his damnable curiosity, a product of his long-held arrogance that made him think only of satisfying his endless need to know more. Now Lucy, once dead in this world but living happily in another, had paid the price and Ianto--how would Ianto forgive him for this?
"You have to let me go." The words stumbled out, a plea to no one, a demand that went unheard. His team, Ianto, all of them would be searching for him and he was lost and trapped and with Lucy's passing, so alone. Ianto needed him, Ianto was unprotected, Ianto was vulnerable to Adam's attack--the words reverberated in his head, fear and desperation stinging his eyes and tightening the muscles of his throat. Fear, pure and unrelenting, swept through him, weakening his knees and stealing the air from his lungs. It was so strong that just for an instant, he could feel Ianto's reaction to it, his feelings flowing back to Jack in another wave of terrified confusion. Jack reached out, grasping at the tenuous thread between them, willing Ianto to see where he was being held hostage.
Then that too was taken away from him, the thread snapping and the connexion lost once more. Jack collapsed back to the floor, his forehead nearly brushing its dusty surface. He had no idea if Ianto was able to grasp anything about Jack's location and even if he had, there was no reason to believe that Ianto was in any way able to come to Jack's aid.
Now he knew what he had to do. Struggling to his feet, he allowed anger to take hold inside him, anger that he'd been taken hostage, that sweet Lucy was gone, that his team and Ianto were at risk. He clasped his fingers around his injured wrist once more and faced the door, preparing himself for whatever force was going to try and stop him. Lowering his shoulder, he took one step forward, then another, but the closer he got to the door, the more he became aware of resistance. Another step and it seemed as though he was pushing against an inflated rubber ball, soft and yielding but only to a point. Jack tried several angles but was rebuffed each time, the final attempt hitting his injured wrist at an odd angle and sending a rocket of pain up his inner arm and across his shoulder. It was strong enough that he tucked his wrist in close to his body and curved over it, breathing hard through his nose and gritting his teeth as he willed the pain to subside. The throbbing in his head redoubled and he had to take a few steps back until he was once more against the wardrobe, letting it support him as he tried to regain his composure.
Pushing back against the pain, Jack gritted his teeth as he concentrated once more how he was going to get out of the attic. Rose wasn't relenting and it appeared that there was nothing Jack could do to get past her. He briefly considered searching for a weapon, but nothing in his experience had ever taught him how to harm, let alone vanquish, an incorporeal being.
That's when he realized that if he couldn't leave, maybe he could bring someone to him. He wouldn't bother with screaming--he was two floors above the closest room where anyone from his team could be. He was in an attic filled with antiques, there should be hundreds of things that could make noise, but a quick search revealed nothing that he'd consider useful. He needed something loud and heavy, something that would reverberate through thick wood that was hundreds of years old.
The only piece of furniture seemingly heavy enough was the old wardrobe that had revealed the secret of the mines. Jack walked around it, assessing its weight and size, then placed his shoulder against one back corner, giving it a quick shove to test his ability to move it. The wardrobe shifted, confirming Jack's belief that it was top heavy. Bracing his swelling wrist tight against his chest, he set his jaw and pushed against the wardrobe's edge, sweat breaking out on his brow as cold fear gave him the strength he needed.
The old wood creaked as it rocked forward, then rocked back, driving Jack sideways as his boots slipped on the dust-covered floor. Desperation combined with adrenaline gave him the impetus to quickly regain his balance and try again, this time succeeding as the wardrobe tipped over and fell to the floor with a deafening thud that sent bolts of pain through Jack's head. He backed away, his good hand pressed to his head near the wound, afraid that even if anyone heard the sound, they'd either assign the noise to the random sounds made by an old house or, more troubling, they were too caught up in whatever was happening on the lower floors.
Frantic to find something else that would make enough noise to be heard downstairs, Jack picked up an old lamp that he hoped would make a differently pitched sound when he slammed it against the wall. Cocking back his arm to throw it, he aimed the lamp and was on the verge of letting it fly when a sharp crack echoed through the attic, followed by a bolt of energy from floor to ceiling directly in front of him, sizzling like a lightning strike but giving off no heat. A sharp smell of ozone filled the air as the darkened overhead bulbs burst into pieces, showering Jack in bits of glass. He dropped the lamp and ducked his head, protecting his eyes with his good arm.
Squinting up through eyes drawn tight, Jack could see that Rose's form had transformed. She had turned from nearly opaque to a quivering ribbon, rivers of barely visible pale gold shimmers sliding down her surface, flowing like water. It was breathtakingly beautiful, but from that beauty poured unutterable sadness. It was deep, soul-wrenching, the very opposite of her original indifference, striking Jack squarely in the chest and robbing the strength from his knees. For the first time, Jack felt as though he was truly connecting with Rose, and from her he was experiencing that same sense of loss and pain that he'd first felt from Philip they night they'd met outside the music room. She was less an unknown entity now than a wounded animal, exhausted and trembling, at the end of her strength.
"I don't understand," he muttered, "what's going on?"
Jack straightened slowly, every beat of his heart reverberating through his throbbing wrist and pounding head. Yet all he felt was vast sorrow for the creature in front of him, for her and the two others like her and the tragedy they seemed to share. As Jack watched she began to fold in on herself, thickening and lumpish, the beautiful golden translucence turning chalky and dull.
The tenuous link established by the depth of Rose's pain began to morph once more, deepening and twisting harder into Jack as if Rose was trying to reach him and unable to control the attempt. He tentatively reached back, opening his mind to her as he would any spirit he'd met in his travels. Keeping up as much of a barrier as possible to protect himself, he was still bombarded with sensation that quickly descended into pure, stinging fear.
And he knew that fear, he understood what generated such despair. It was the fear of losing a loved one, or the inability to keep that loved one safe. Rose was feeling it now, communicating through that fear her sense of failure and defeat. Jack started shaking with the power of her emotions, unable to discern its centre. For Rose to have been combative one minute and seemingly bowed in surrender the next told him that events beyond the walls of the attic were unfolding--and it had been Rose's intent to keep Jack apart from Ianto, his friends, perhaps even Adam, but whatever her purpose, she'd failed.
"Wait," he whispered, one hand outstretched, "wait, let me help. Let me out of here, let me go to my friends. Whatever Philip and Adam are to you, however you're tied together, whatever your history, I know we can help. Just, please--let me go."
He held his breath and waited. Rose was still between him and the door, and although she was diminished, Jack sensed she was in no way weakened enough to let him pass. But he had to try, he had to get out of the attic somehow. Taking one step toward the door, then another, he watched her carefully, his heart aching for her pain but desperation driving him forward. When he met no resistance, he quickened his pace, carefully skirting Rose's fading edges. He'd just reached the door when Rose reacted, sliding in front of him and blocking the door once more.
"No!" Jack took a step back, raising his fist. "Let me go! Let me--"
His next words were choked off as Rose brightened almost beyond what Jack's eyes could bear. She rose into a glittering tower, curling over him in a great, golden wave, then crashing down on his head in a shower of light. Closing his eyes, Jack raised his good arm over his eyes once more as the sparks rained down yet he felt nothing, his only connexion to Rose the scent of cinnamon that swirled inside the room.
Then she was gone and with her, the only source of light in the attic. Jack hardly dare breathe as he dropped his arm, his hand going instinctively to wrap around his injured wrist. Standing in complete darkness, it took a moment for his senses to catch up to his actions, but when they did, he stretched out his hurt wrist in surprise. There was no pain, not even lingering soreness as he flexed it back and forth. Lifting his hand to his brow, the stickiness of drying blood was still there, yet the contusion was gone as if it'd never happened.
More importantly, he was free. There was nothing between him and the door and he ran to it, flinging it open and stumbling down the near pitch black staircase that led to the corridor below, his hands--his two good hands--giving him much needed balance. It felt as though his feet barely touched the risers as he descended, intent on rejoining his team and telling them the incredible events he'd just lived through.
The quick flash of a torch's beam bouncing off the ceiling alerted him to someone else nearby. "Hey!" he yelled. "Hey, I'm --" He'd just turned the corner at the bottom of the attic stairs when he ran into Martha, knocking her off balance. She clutched at his shoulder so she could steady herself, then threw her arms around his neck in a fierce embrace.
"Oh, Jesus, Jack," Martha panted, "thank God I've found you." She twisted away and tugged at the cuff of his shirt, pulling toward the servants stairs that led to the lower floors. "Come on, we've got to hurry."
His own recent experiences forgotten in the face of Martha's desperation, Jack followed her down the servant's stairs to the same floor as the music room. It never occurred to him not to follow her, even though he'd promised Ianto he wouldn't go near Adam. Everything had changed, he knew that now, and even though their quick descent hadn't allowed any conversation, his own body already reacting to both Adam's growing proximity and an underlying awareness that Ianto was in trouble.
As soon as he turned the corner into the corridor that led to the music room, Jack was nearly knocked back by the power emanating from behind its door, a power he recognized as Adam, stronger than ever. He barely noticed when Gwen rushed up to him and hugged him, though he spared her a smile as he kept a fast pace toward the music room.
"Fill me in," he said, "quickly."
"Right, okay," Gwen pushed her hair out of her eyes, "you disappeared, we all went looking for you, we lost power, Ianto said we should keep searching, we heard a loud sound, we came up to the music room to investigate and now Ianto's trapped inside and we can't get him out." Her voice cracked on her last words, betraying the same fear that was beginning to erode Jack's composure.
But he couldn't afford to let emotion get in the way now. Pausing just long enough to give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, Jack nodded. "Thanks. Are mobiles still working?"
Gwen nodded and fished her phone out of her pocket. "What do you need?"
"Light. I need someone to pull the emergency lanterns from the SUVs and get them up here. As soon as we get inside the music room, I'm going to need to be able to see and I need more than torchlight."
"Done." Gwen turned away, passing on Jack's request. He turned to the door.
"I'm going inside."
Martha tugged at Jack's arm. "You can't get in, the door's jammed or something."
"Aim your torch at the door."
"What? Why?"
Ignoring her, Jack pressed his fingers to the cold surface of the door and closed his eyes. He could feel Ianto just beyond his reach but more terrifyingly, Adam was in there, and he was strong. Philip, Rose, maybe they were close, but all Jack could concentrate on was Ianto and Adam, alone together.
He had to get in there, but he knew that no human strength would get through the music room door. It was time to call for reinforcements, and not of the breathing kind. Jack knew that the spectres of Caernarfon Hall were sentient at varying levels and that they'd reacted to events over the past few days. In their way, they were as attached to Ianto and his family as they were to the house and grounds--Lucy was proof enough of that. Now Jack needed their strength, their focus and their energy to take apart the barriers both physical and spiritual that stood between him and Ianto.
"Stand back." Jack didn't wait for Gwen and Martha to move, instead sweeping them gently aside with one arm until they were several feet from the threshold. "Keep shining your torches on the door."
"What are you doing?" Gwen whispered. "You're not going to try and break down the door, are you?"
"Not exactly."
Closing eyes, Jack began to concentrate, opening himself up psychically to the ghosts of Caernarfon Hall as never before. He held nothing back, inviting them all to join him, the spirits he'd seen and the ones he'd only experienced as no more than a flutter against his consciousness. The grounds keeper, the woman taking cuttings in the garden, and so many more. He'd barely had time to scratch the surface of the inhabitants before the drama had started with Adam but he'd known they were there all along. It was time to gather together the only forces that could help him now.
And they came, flying to Jack's side as if they'd been waiting for this moment. The energy they brought was so strong that the air crackled around Jack, so evident that he could feel Martha and Gwen step away, could hear their gasps as the ghosts gathered around him.
Eyes still closed, Jack raised his arms from his side, palms up, inviting the spectres to feel his fear and his anger and his determination to bring to the fight to Adam and save everything he'd come to hold so dear. He felt himself growing stronger with each ghostly addition, able to channel the energy they brought and keep his mind focussed and clear. He was vaguely aware of other members of his team arriving, filling the hallway beyond the invisible perimeter that the ghosts established around Jack and filling the space with the light from their torches. If they spoke, he couldn't hear them, and he knew they knew better than to interfere unless he appeared to be in some kind of physical danger.
A wave of heat began to rise around him, and behind his closed eyes he could see light leaking in beneath his lashes, telling him that the spectres had manifested enough to be visible. He opened his eyes to a pale grey glow that enveloped him in warmth, a comforting presence that was no less determined than he was. He turned his head so that he could see the team, their faces bathed in grey light, their eyes wide as for the first time, they saw the evidence of what Jack had always told them was true.
"Don't be afraid," Jack whispered, "it's the cavalry. Stay back."
He returned his attention to the music room door, bringing his hands forward as if preparing to push it open. Energy began to crackle from his fingertips and palms, flowing toward the wooden door that separated him from Ianto. At first it seemed to work--the door began to turn pale as the energy began to consume it, and all Jack needed was the tiniest crack and he'd push through.
But just as he felt the energy start to break through, he met resistance, an almost physical sensation of being pushed back. Hard on that realization came another, so unexpected that it knocked Jack back a step and broke his concentration.
"No, Jack. Don't."
Jack dropped his hands, the mists of the spectres floating around him in confusion. Ianto's voice in his head was clear, as clear if he was standing beside him, now lacking the dissonance their earlier psychic meetings but shrouded in pain. Even now, Ianto was trying to protect Jack from whatever he himself was facing, but the strain in that voice only spurred Jack on to regroup and try again.
Raising his hands once more, Jack gathered the ghosts around him, stressing urgency as he concentrated all his focus on preparing Ianto for the inevitable, warning him that Jack was coming inside no matter the cost. A ripple of pain washed over Jack and he staggered, his body recognizing the threat before his mind could catch up. He was out of time--Adam was on the attack and Ianto was losing the battle.
The ghosts could sense the urgency as well. Their energy swelled around Jack and burst from his hands in a final assault. The door began to glow, cold, white and blinding, shuddering against the pressure of their onslaught. Every muscle of Jack's body strained to break through both the door and Ianto's resistance, staring through narrowed eyes as the door began to crack from top to bottom in long splinters, oily black mist escaping and then recoiling as it met the pure white of the spectres' power.
"Everyone, move back!" Jack didn't wait to see if his team obeyed but prayed they would--if the door shattered, they could get hit with debris. He could feel Ianto weakening on the other side and that spurred him to attack the door with his bare hands, pounding the splintering wood with his fists.
More hands joined his and he realised he should've known better, Torchwood Paranormal would never let him fight this battle alone. Martha and Andy had come up on either side of him to pound the disintegrating door with their torches. As soon as there was a wedge large enough, Jack shoved his hand through and grabbed a shard of wood, tearing it off and tossing it aside. Then he stood back, the spectres scattering once more as Martha and Andy tore the door apart.
And then it was quiet, the only sound the heaving breathing and soft gasps coming from his team. The ghosts had fled, their purpose achieved, but Jack's eyes were only on what he could see beyond the door, even as the rest of his team huddled around him, Owen trying to reach for Jack's hands, now bruised and bloodied. Pulling away and ignoring them, Jack kicked and punched out the jagged edges of wood that remained and stepped into the music room, his gaze drawn in--and then up, following the path of someone's torchlight.
He could hear their distress but as Martha and Gwen surged forward, the light from their torches sweeping the room, he thrust out his arms to prevent them or any of the others from getting closer. It was too late for them now, too late for any of them to help fight a battle they couldn't understand. It was down to Jack now, Jack and the monster that had been trying to seduce him from the very beginning, the creature that now held Ianto captive.
"Ianto."
Jack whispered the word in his head, knowing without a doubt that Ianto could hear him. This would be their salvation, this gift of silent communication, and as Jack walked into the middle of the room, he repeated Ianto's name, rewarded when Ianto looked down from where he was suspended near the ceiling, a quick quirk of his lips indicating that he'd heard Jack clearly.
Whatever Jack had been expecting, the scene inside the music room was yet more horrifying. There was the stale, oil-tinged breeze that that crept along Jack's skin, though the windows remained closed behind their heavy drapery, and a grey mist hung low to the ground and clung in thick ropes to the walls. Adam was all around, his malicious presence and dark promises more menacing than ever, but Jack only saw Ianto.
Even floating in the air several feet above the music room's worn carpet, Ianto appeared as unperturbed as ever, only a slight tightness around his eyes betraying any strain. But as surely as if he'd been tied with real ropes, he was bound by the same icy mist, his arms rigid at his side, hands clenched into fists. There was a coil of fog wrapped around his shoulders, pulsing and dull and malevolent, entwined around his legs and ankles.
But around Ianto's neck, glowing softly with lavender light in the murky grey of the room, were the beads of his necklace, and as their gazes met, Ianto's slight nod told Jack almost everything he needed to know.
"Are you all right?" Jack spoke aloud, the sound of his voice loud and dissonant in the room. His team stood behind him, ready to move at his command, and he could feel their confusion and fear, so his question was meant for them to find a verbal lifeline to hold on to. They too needed to hear Ianto's response, to know that he was still fighting.
"We're...tired," Ianto responded, his voice raspy. Jack noted the response with a quirk of his eyebrow, hearing so much more in those two words.
"I know," he whispered, "but don't worry, we're almost home." He turned to the Torchwood team, all of them tense and poised to do whatever Jack required of them.
"Okay, this is how it's going to work. Rhys, Andy, I need those lanterns in here, put them anywhere that makes sense, but stay away from Ianto. As soon as you're done, I want everyone on the other side of that doorway. No one comes back in until I say so."
Gwen was the first to react. "Jack, no, we're not going! Look at Ianto, he's floating in bloody mid-air! We have to get him down, we have to--"
"We're not going anywhere." Rhys crossed him arms over his chest and stared at Jack. "I don't pretend to understand what's going on here, but we've got to help Ianto and you can't do that yourself."
Jack shook his head. "There's no time to argue. Ianto is being help captive by a force you can't see, let alone fight."
Andy pushed past Jack and went to stand near Ianto's legs. "Can't we just pull him down, then?"
"I'm right here, you know," Ianto croaked, "Please don't talk about me as if I'm a child's piñata."
Andy reached toward Ianto's hand. "If we just--"
"Don't touch him," Jack snapped. He stepped forward and blocked Andy from getting any closer. "He's trapped by psychic energy, disrupting it could hurt both of you." He placed a gentle hand on Andy's shoulder, leading him back toward the team. "We'll figure something out, but right now, I need light and then I need everyone out of here."
The team scrambled to bring in the lanterns, lighting them and setting them in a crude semi-circle. Jack kept his eyes on Adam but his attention was focussed on Ianto, sending comfort and strength through their tenuous psychic contact as the room filled with light and shadows. And what he received back--dear God, what he received from Ianto was trust, patience, a flash of dry humour through the pain, and most of all, strength returned in equal measure. They were fighting as one now, united not only in their desire to defeat Adam, but in ways Jack could never have imagined even a week ago. Jack would not fail Ianto, he would not fail this family, he would not fail his team.
"All right, Jack," Martha was standing in front of him, "what are you going to do?"
Jack glanced back over his shoulder, his mouth setting in a grim line as he saw that Ianto had closed his eyes, his face pale.
"The four of us are going to have a little talk." He held up his hands, looking at each team member in turn. "All of you, listen to me. For years, we've chased after ghosts and shadows and things that go bump in the night. But we've got a real nightmare, right here, right now, and Adam isn't going to go away until he has his say."
"Jack..."
It was Ianto's voice, cracking and exhausted and yet vaguely annoyed, that spurred Jack into action. "That's it, everyone wait outside in the hall. And whatever happens, whatever you see, do not come back in here until I say so."
Jack watched them only long enough to make sure that they gathered together on the other side of the shattered door, then turned his attention to Ianto. He walked over to him and despite his admonition to Andy, he placed his hand on Ianto's ankle. The throb of energy was there, the same energy that flowed through Ianto and kept him suspended. It was malevolent and strong, but Jack could withstand it because he knew Adam would allow him.
"Let him go," Jack said aloud, fully aware that Adam was close and listening, "let him go and we'll talk."
Ianto jerked. "No, don't--"
Jack tightened his grip on Ianto's ankle. "Whatever it takes to manifest, go ahead. No one will hurt you."
Ianto shuddered, the tremors coming through Jack's fingers communicating more than just Ianto's desire that Jack not put himself in a position of weakness against Adam. Philip was there, as Jack had surmised, fighting to keep Ianto safe, even as the rope of energy tightened around Ianto's body. They were both beginning to fade, and through his psychic link to Ianto, he could feel determination but also fear--and that fear sparked a great anger in Jack. This threat to his family--for Ianto was as surely a member of his family now--had to stop.
Jack turned and opened his arms, spreading them wide as he spoke to the roiling grey fog. "C'mon, you bastard, here's your ticket out of here. But first, you have to show up and tell me what you want."
The balance in the room began to shift, the burnt oil smell receding, replaced by Adam's more recognizable scent of decay and rot. Jack stepped in front of Ianto, facing the centre of the room where a dark form was beginning to coalesce, the freezing mist coiling into a column, much like Rose had in the attic, only instead of her golden glow there were only patches of darkness twisting and turning in the light
"That's it," Jack whispered, "come to me. Let's get this party started."
"I'm here."
No more than a deep-throated hiss in Jack's head, but a slight sound from Ianto told Jack that he'd heard it, too. Jack took a step back until he could feel Ianto's knee brush his shoulder, the brief touch grounding him. It was time to confront Adam, to force him to loosen his hold, and the only way Jack knew how to do that was to bargain.
"You want out of here, I know," Jack said. He had no idea if or when the telepathy with Ianto would fail, but he needed his team to know what was happening as well. "But I won't do anything for you until you release Ianto."
A brief flash of grey shot through the black of Adam's manifestation, giving off a hint of pleasure mixed with calculation. To release Adam into the world was the last thing Jack intended, but nothing was negotiable until Ianto was by his side. He waited, watching as Adam's form swirled and twisted, wondering what his next move would be if Adam refused.
But there was still something Jack had that Adam needed, and so with only a spark of cold light and the sensation of something slimy brushing against his cheek giving him warning, Jack turned just in time to catch Ianto as he fell to the floor, slumping into Jack's arms.
"Ianto!" Jack held him close, alarmed by Ianto's stuttered breathing and the weakness in his knees that had him leaning heavily against Jack. But Ianto rallied quickly, straightening his back and pushing against Jack's shoulder's until he was upright. Unwilling to let go, Jack framed Ianto's face between his palms, searching for the truth in Ianto's eyes, truth that he knew Ianto was all too capable of hiding. But even in the light given off by the lanterns scattered throughout the room, Jack could see that Ianto was still pale and shaken, he was mostly unharmed. The copper beads still glowed with a faint purple effervescence, a reminder of Philip's continued presence and protection.
"I'm fine." Ianto stepped back and tugged his jumper into place, shoulders straight and mouth set in a firm line as he gave Jack an affirming nod. Jack admired the effort, even though they both knew it was a falsehood meant to get them through the next few minutes. In fact, both Philip and Ianto had been weakened by their captivity; Jack could feel the heat coming off Ianto's body where he'd been wrapped in Adam's coils of energy. There was a thin line of angry-looking red welts on Ianto's neck, and Jack had no doubt that Ianto's body was littered with Adam's mark.
"Debatable," Jack said with a quick smile, "but we'll argue about that later."
"Ianto," Gwen whispered from the doorway, "all right?"
Ianto blinked and turned his head to see the group huddled at the music room door. Had the situation not been so dire, Jack would've been let his concerned team come in and offer their support, since Ianto looked like a man whose life had spiralled out of his control. But Adam was waiting, and until he discovered what Adam wanted, Jack would have to trust Philip to keep Ianto as safe as possible.
"Right," Jack took Ianto's hand and tugged, "let's get you out of the line of fire."
Ianto gave Jack's hand a squeeze, his gaze still on Team Torchwood. "No," he said absently, "too late for that." He motioned toward his feet, drawing Jack's gaze downward to see two identical coils of energy wrapped around Ianto's ankles.
Jack bit back a curse but forced a smile to his lips. "Then this is it," he said, "now we find out the mystery. Are you ready?"
"I'm ready," Ianto nodded. The simple reply worried Jack, not its source but in the light quiver of satisfaction that resonated from Adam. It was disquieting enough to make Jack try once more to suggest that Ianto take himself out of the action as much as possible.
"I, uh, don't suppose you'd consider watching from the sidelines. I can't get you out of here, but maybe we can keep you out of harm's way."
Ianto tilted his head to the side, eyebrow arched, one hand going to his throat to stroke the glowing beads of his necklace. "I know Adam wants me here and I doubt he'd let me--us--take that liberty. Besides," he added with a small smile, "you know I'd never leave you here alone."
"Pigheaded and beautiful, an irresistible combination." Jack placed his palm to Ianto's cheek. "Let's do this."
Jack released him and turned to face Adam, who'd been silently undulating, dull streaks of light sparking at random through his misshapen column. He could feel Adam's impatience but more importantly, Adam had started to gnaw at the edges of Jack's consciousness. That beguiling dark aura that had captured Jack the first time he'd encountered Adam was back, only now it was stronger, slowly being unleashed to draw Jack in instead of the onslaught of sensation he'd originally received.
It was hard, so hard, to ignore Adam's invitation, but it was just as hard to explain the attraction. Jack only knew Adam as hurtful, a spiteful entity that lashed out with Ianto more often than not his target. Yet underneath all that anger and enmity, Jack could sense loneliness and pain and grief, something Adam shared with Philip and Rose. It was a connexion that had tickled the back of Jack's mind since meeting Rose in Ianto's office, never having experienced all three entities at the same time and yet understanding deep in his bones that they were tied together by more than their manifestations.
Staring at Adam now, holding his concentration like a barrier against Adam's ever encroaching aura, he had a flash of intuition that made him take an involuntary step backward, bumping against Ianto who put a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"Jack--"
"They're related," Jack muttered. "Oh, my God, Ianto, that's it--they're a family."
The realisation was so unexpected yet fit so perfectly with the emotions he'd experienced from all three of them that Jack lost his focus and let down his guard--and that was all that Adam needed. Jack had little warning--a thrill of electricity dancing across his arms and legs, a fine knife's edge of cold air that blew through him--and then Adam was right there, demanding Jack's attention, pressing against his will, bombarding him psychically with pictures and colours and tastes and sounds. It was overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time, more of Adam than Jack had yet experienced but only a taste of what Adam told him he was willing to share.
"Let me."
The phrase was a soft growl in his head, the two words swirling amidst the beautiful chaos Adam was feeding into Jack's imagination. The world around him began to fade and he instinctively reached for Ianto, needing that touch to ground him as the desire to give in to Adam grew ever stronger. He felt his hand taken in a strong grip and then Ianto was standing directly in front of him, blue eyes wide with fear.
"Fight him, Jack!" Ianto grabbed Jack's other hand and pulled both of them tight to his own chest. "Stay here, with me!"
Jack couldn't ignore Ianto's pleas, no matter how hard Adam pushed, no matter what he promised. Jack pushed back harder, his desire to remain with Ianto, to keep him and his team safe, overrode the fantastic visions that were being to take shape inside his head, giving Jack more insight into who--or what--Adam was. He could feel the frantic beat of Ianto's heart beneath his hands and he anchored his own will to that rhythm, letting it guide him back into the present and beyond that, to the future he saw in Ianto's eyes.
Control began to come back as Adam retreated in the face of Jack's implacable resolve. It was a test of wills to keep Adam contained and open to communication, even though he knew Adam wanted so much more. He wanted Jack, to use him as a vessel to escape the four walls of the music room, to break through whatever it was that kept him inside. Jack knew he was winning the battle as awareness returned, along with a heightened sense of Adam's frustration. He kept his gaze on Ianto's face, their hands still entwined, but just as Jack was preparing to shove Adam far enough away so that he didn't feel assaulted on every level, Adam changed tactics.
It was the look of confusion on Ianto's face that told Jack that the battle had moved beyond the inner workings of his own mind. Ianto's gaze was locked on his but as Jack watched, scratches began to appear on his face, long, red, angry welts that criss-crossed his pale skin. Jack released his grip on Ianto's hands and gripped his shoulders, feeling all the horror that Adam wanted him to feel as Ianto faltered, swaying in Jack's hold.
"Let me."
In a desperate attempt to forestall the disaster about to overtake them, Jack looked over his shoulder, prepared to call out his team and have them attempt to remove Ianto from the room. But even that was lost to him when he saw the doorway was empty, the others nowhere in sight. Turning back to Ianto, Jack saw his own terror mirrored in Ianto's expression, but even worse was the pain that clouded Ianto's eyes. It was pain and fear that Ianto was still fighting, but the fading lavender light of the beads on his necklace told Jack that he and Philip were losing the battle.
There was nothing else to do, no way out. Jack knew what Adam wanted and he prayed that giving in to him would halt the torture. If he could keep a part of himself intact, if he could meet Adam halfway and get him to stop his attacks--if there was a way to reason with him--Jack would try anything, promise anything, to make Adam stop.
Dropping his hands from Ianto's shoulders, steeling himself for the ordeal ahead, Jack took a step back. He pressed his hands together and offered Ianto an apologetic smile, wishing he only that he could've spared Ianto all the pain he'd suffered to get to this point.
"I'll be back," Jack whispered. He had just enough time to witness the truth of what he was about to do hit Ianto, barely a moment to regret the utter devastation in Ianto's eyes, before closing his own and taking the battle to a place where Ianto could not follow.
"Let me." The words were victorious now, tinged with contempt for Jack's weakness. Jack let his head fall back, eyes still closed, and let his thoughts speak for him.
"Come on, you son of a bitch. Show me what you got."
And the world around him shattered.