Will My Arms Be Strong Enough 31/45
Title: Will My Arms Be Strong Enough? 31/45
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys...and others!
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, John Hart, two OC's, Andrea (Andie) Carlowe and Nick Jones.
Spoilers: Set after Exit Wounds.
Summary: A walk with chips turns sour when John's past suddenly comes back to haunt him.
Chapter 31
One week later…
Nick rolled over on the wet grass, just managing to grab his gun before the creature lunged for him, attempting to pin him to the ground. But, thanks to the rigorous combat training that John had insisted on putting the entire team through, Nick was a second too fast for the animal and the sharp claws ended up only sinking deep into the soaking wet ground.
Quickly, ignoring the way the rain was soaking his glasses and the lumps of mud in his hair, the young doctor rolled forwards and leapt to his feet, readying himself to shoot if he had to. But then John came up to him, brushing his hair back and panting.
“Our guns don’t work!” he panted. “I just emptied a whole round of bullets into that thing, but it’s only getting stronger.” He tried to pull the trigger on the creature for emphasis, and hissed through his teeth when nothing happened. “You see?”
Nick swore under his breath. “Is this thing related to Gwen’s old friend, the Nostrovite wedding crasher, by any chance?” he asked, wiping his glasses.
John shrugged. “I’ve not seen it shift shape or do any of the other weird stuff that those blighters can get up to,” he said. “Well…apart from this. But I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
Nick scratched his head. “Hey, have you got a can of Weevil spray on you?” he asked suddenly.
“Weevil spray?” repeated John, his eyes widening.
“Have you got any or not?”
“Yeah, there are two cans in my coat, but what on earth -”
But Nick had already fished out one of the cans. “On my word, we spray it,” he said. “It’s a long shot, a very long shot, but sometimes the longest shots are the best ones.” He flipped open the lid. “Okay - spray it, now!”
John had absolutely no idea what the young man was hoping to achieve by doing this - he had admitted that it was a very long shot - but something in those hazel eyes made him trust him enough to follow his lead, whatever it would bring.
He was astonished however, when the alien did actually seem to stop moving in the seconds that they saw it before white smoke began to engulf it. He blinked. As far as he could recall, Weevil spray had never done that before. Curiously, he began to step forwards, his eyes watering as the stench of the spray invaded his sinuses, and tried to investigate what was going on.
However, he quickly realised that this was a mistake, as he couldn’t see anything past the end of his nose, because the smoke was so thick. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and lunged forwards. Immediately, he felt a sharp pain in his knees, and heard a clanging sound reverberate around the countryside as he fell flat on his back, blinking heavily.
Gradually, the smoke began to clear and John sat up slowly - only to find that the creature they had been tracking was stood, frozen in its tracks, the moonlight shining over its skin. Frowning, he reached out and touched it, expecting to feel matted fur, but instead feeling hard and cold -
“Stone?!” he exclaimed incredulously. “The Weevil spray turned this thing to stone?”
Behind him, Nick shrugged and clipped the lid back on top of his now almost empty can. “Well, someone’s going to find a rather interesting garden ornament if they come out here,” he remarked, helping the former Time Agent to his feet. “What is it, anyway?”
John, who had begun a scan using his wrist strap, shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before and my scanner doesn’t recognise it.”
Nick walked around the statue and tapped it cautiously, his gun still ready. “Do you think Jack might be able to work out what it is?”
“He might.” John shrugged. “Come on, help me lift this thing; we’ll get it back to the Hub.”
Once the statuesque creature was safely in the back of the SUV, John turned to him. “By the way, that was clever thinking with the Weevil spray.”
Nick shook his head. “Nope, it was just a lucky shot.” He grinned and placed a small kiss on John’s lips. “Hey, do you want to go get some food? I don’t know about you, but I’ve not eaten since lunch and I’m starving.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Have you looked at us? We’re covered in mud and soaking wet.”
“Then we’ll say that we just went for a walk in the countryside.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
“Come on! If nothing else, we could at least grab a few chips. I’m starving.”
John felt a small smile spread over his face at his partner’s excited expression. It’s times like these that I actually remember how young he is, he mused to himself. “Oh, all right, you’ve twisted my arm,” he growled, hopping into the driver’s seat. “But then we go straight to the Hub.”
“You got it,” agreed Nick.
~*~
Later that night…
“It’s been too long since we’ve done this, you know,” remarked John, chewing on his piping hot chips and skipping around the large puddles that the rain had left behind.
“Yeah,” answered Nick who was following at a more sedate pace, gazing at the sky. “Yeah, it has been a long time since we’ve walked down this street,” he added with a twinge of sarcasm.
At that, John turned round and looked at him. “Okay, what’s eating you?”
“Nothing’s eating me. I’m actually eating chips.”
“Yeah, yeah, very funny. Seriously,” John came over and looked at him, “what’s the matter? You’ve been quiet ever since we came off that hunt.”
Nick chewed on the end of a chip he’d been holding for the past few minutes, considering how best to phrase what he had been thinking. “It’s just,” but then he trailed off.
John sighed. “Hey, you’re not still beating yourself up over your kids, are you?” he asked. “Look, Nick, I know it was a hard choice, but you did the right thing. With what we do, you’re not in a position to give them the stability that they need, but you’re doing your job and protecting them every day when you come into work.”
“I know,” said Nick. “I still miss them, but I know that I did the right thing in the end. Besides, it’s not like I’m never going to see them again.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…and I know this is going to sound mad, but,” he dropped his voice a bit. “Well, what with all this stuff that the Rift spits out - or takes in - and all these aliens like Mr. Garden Ornament in the back of the car…I’ve almost started to forget what it feels like to have a normal life.”
John paused to let this sink in. “So, walking down this street like two ordinary people feels -”
“Incredibly weird?” Nick nodded. “Yeah, it really does.”
John gave a small laugh. “I guess that’s what Torchwood can do to you,” he mused. “It’s certainly what the Time Agency can do to you. Makes you forget who you are, sometimes.” He looked up at the parting clouds, and breathed out, before realising that Nick was looking at him curiously. “Ah, never mind,” he said. “Don’t listen to me. You’ll find yourself soon. All you’ve got to do is stop looking.” He suddenly laughed properly and slapped the younger man on the back before gently taking his hand. “Come on. Let’s go take our mutant garden gnome back to the Hub.”
They walked slowly and in companionable silence for a while, John’s fingers gently stroking the hairs on the back of Nick’s hand, soothing all his fears away. Suddenly, the former Time Agent stopped in his tracks and turned around, and gave him a tremulous smile, apparently nervous.
“Nick,” he began softly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning -”
But what John had been meaning to do was not to be revealed, as, a moment later, a burning pain shot straight through Nick’s head with a loud bang, and, a moment later, he was lying face down in the middle of the road. Puzzled and shocked, he tried to sit up, but before he could focus, something heavy slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. At the same time, a heavy fist crashed into his jaw, almost knocking him out. He could hear coarse voices shouting, but he couldn’t recognise them or make out the words. He could barely even see in front of him - the punch must have knocked his glasses flying. But in the midst of all of it, he could just recognise John’s voice, shouting, half in anger and half in terror.
How long his attackers continued, he didn’t know. But then, as suddenly as it started, everything stopped. Slowly, Nick tried to stand up, but his back screamed in protest and his head swam. He blinked rapidly, but he couldn’t see; he must have lost his glasses. He coughed loudly and spat out blood, panting and wheezing. “John…”
The word was barely a whisper, but it must have been too loud, because a second later, there was a loud yell and he felt himself being held down hard against the floor. He struggled to break free, but the only response was a searing pain as his head was slammed against the road again, almost knocking him out. His blood chilled as he felt a pair of hard hands curling around his throat, cutting off his air supply and heard a hard voice cackling above him. A moment later, however, he felt his heart lurch when he heard a pair of heavy boots behind him. He managed to twist his head slightly to look, wondering if it might be Jack. But even in the dim light of the street, it only took a second for him to realise that the figure behind him was nothing like that of his boss. And if that hadn’t been enough, then the harsh laugh would have confirmed it.
He stepped forwards, scrutinizing Nick, his slate grey eyes turning colder by the second and an ugly smile started to spread over his face as he eyed him up and down, the way a snake would eye up its prey. Nick shuddered and struggled again, fighting to breathe against the cold hands which were still clasped tightly around his throat. Tears pricked his eyes as he fought for air and he wondered if this was the end. Suddenly, and to his astonishment, however, the hands were removed and he was able to gasp loudly as air entered his lungs again. He gasped in surprise and tried to stumble to his feet, hoping that he would be able to find his glasses and call for help.
“Nick, look out!”
The words distracted him and, as he turned round in the direction of the anguished voice, a fist swung out of the darkness and knocked him back to the road. His head hit against something hard - a lamppost? - before he slid down onto the tarmac and everything went black.
~*~
“I think he’s coming round.”
“Yeah…he’s lucky to be here. One second later and -”
“I know. You don’t have to paint me a picture.”
The voices seemed very close and yet so distant. Nick could feel his head throbbing as his eyes slowly opened, only to recoil back in protest as a flash of blinding white hit them. He cringed back with a loud groan and instantly a pair of blurred figures appeared in front of him.
“Well, it looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally woken up!” said a teasing masculine voice, but with a heavy undercurrent of concern there. “Hey…how many fingers am I holding up?”
Nick blinked again, trying to clear his vision. He knew that voice… “Jack?” he croaked, trying to focus on the dark shape in front of him.
He was rewarded with a gentle laugh and a cry of, “Well, he knows who I am, at least!”
“I don’t think I could forget you,” croaked Nick as he struggled to sit up, blinking the whole time and trying to ignore the protests his head was making. “Where are my glasses?”
“They’re here, love,” answered a soft female voice. “But I’ve had to put them back together. They snapped after what happened earlier and the glue’s got to dry properly. We can’t have them sticking to your hair now, can we?”
There it was again, that tone that tried to sound light, but that couldn’t hide the concern underneath. Nick frowned slightly. “Jack? Andie?” he said, trying not to sound as groggy as he felt. “What happened? And,” he paused, frowning. “Why am I wearing my tracksuit?”
Even without his glasses, he could see Jack hesitating and only coming forwards after casting his gaze up towards the main part of the Hub. When he was stood in front of him, Nick could see only too clearly how shocked the older man was. He looked as if he’d aged a hundred years in less than two minutes. When he spoke, his eyes were fixed on a point behind Nick’s head and his voice was quiet, as if not speaking could make what had happened untrue.
“Nick,” he said slowly, pausing to choose his words carefully. “You and John were attacked by a bunch of thugs. They were,” he gulped, “really laying into you and restraining John when he tried to stop them. But when they…” his voice trailed off and his eyes drifted towards a table beside him. “Well, John got free and…knocked them out,” he murmured, but his eyes didn’t move.
Twisting his head slightly, Nick almost jumped off the autopsy table when he saw a pile of his old clothes there, his battered and ripped jeans on top. He frowned and squinted, trying to see better, but instantly wished he hadn’t when he realised that, not only was the top button missing, but the zipper was also broken in several places as if someone had tried to…
The next thing he knew, he was shaking and throwing up into a plastic dish, gripping Andie’s hand with one hand and Jack’s with the other. It was several minutes before he realised that someone was stroking his hair, but when he did, he leapt off the table in alarm, toppling straight into someone else’s arms. He didn’t need to ask who was holding him; the heady scent slowly penetrating his mind was completely familiar and he slowly turned round to face the man behind him - and almost screamed out loud when he saw him.
“John!” he cried out, jumping away in shock. “What…what the hell happened to you?” Even without his glasses, he could tell that John looked a mess; his face and hands were literally a mass of bruises and his hands were stained with blood. In fact, Nick would have wagered that John looked easily as bad as he himself did.
He didn’t wait for an answer, but, after doing nothing more for himself than swallowing a couple of strong painkillers, he motioned for John to sit down and take his shirt off, which he did (though not without an obligatory dirty comment). Then, he started to clean and bandage the former Time Agent’s wounds as gently as he could. As he bandaged his hands, he couldn’t help noticing that one of the guns John always carried was missing. However, when he saw the pained look on John’s face, he decided that now wasn’t the best time to ask what had happened. Instead, he was about to ask something else, when he was distracted by Gwen, who looked very unnerved.
“Jack, Detective Kathy Swanson’s just called. Three men have been beaten up and…”
“And she’s wondering if we had anything to do with it,” Jack finished, before sprinting up the stairs two at a time. The others followed him to the boardroom and cringed when they saw the images that Gwen had managed to obtain from her former colleagues.
Now, she was relaying what she had been told to the others, but Nick barely heard her. He had been drawn towards the pictures of the three dead men and his heart started to pound so loudly, he was amazed that no one else in the room had heard it.
The bruising on their faces…the imprints of hands around one of their necks…the blood staining their hair…the sinister black gun wrapped in a cold, dead hand…making it look like suicide…
Nick didn’t know when he had started to attract everyone else’s attention, only that he suddenly felt Ianto touch his shoulder and then saw him standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face. However, Nick stepped away from him; he only had eyes for the man stood behind him. And, as he looked at him, the pieces slowly started to fit together in his mind…
I bandaged his bruised and broken hands…cleaned the blood off him…
And then there was that missing gun…the missing gun that I’m seeing right now…
Almost before he knew what he was doing, Nick ran out of the boardroom and back down the heavy stone steps to the autopsy bay, his mind racing as he leaned against the wall. No…no, it can’t be true…it can’t be…he didn’t…
“Nick, wait! Please, just let me -”
“You did do it.” Nick’s voice was almost toneless in its coldness. He didn’t even turn round when he heard John’s familiar footsteps behind him. “You killed them.”
There was an audible wince behind him, but then John said, “Yes, I did. And I almost regret doing it, because it means I can’t go back and hurt them again.”
There was a long pause as Nick finally turned round, still holding onto the table, and straightened up, turning all his focus onto the man stood in front of him. “What did you say?” he breathed out, unsure if he was more shocked or angry.
John’s mouth went slightly dry at the tone, but he stood his ground. “I said that the only reason I regret killing them is because it means I can’t go back and torture them again.” He stepped forwards. “I did it for you, Nick.”
“For me?” exclaimed Nick, his control finally breaking. “How can you say that? You…murdered three men…and you did it for me?!” He waved aside John’s half-formed replies and carried on. “How can I believe you’ve changed when you turn around and do something like this? There was no need for it - no need at all!”
Jack and Ianto had heard the argument by now and had come down to see what was going on. “Nick,” said Jack quietly. “I understand that you’re upset and that you’re very confused, but is now really the time to be doing this?”
“Oh, I think now is the perfect time to be doing this, Jack!” answered Nick, his eyes blazing almost as bright as his hair. He turned back to John, focusing all his anger on him. “I don’t want to know how you could do it, John - I know perfectly well how you could do it! But I do want to know why!”
“Nick, please!” exclaimed John. “Jack’s right, now isn’t -”
“Tell me!” screamed Nick, slamming a tray of instruments onto the table with such a loud crash that everyone in the surrounding area jumped. “Tell me why you did it!”
“Because I love you!” shouted John.
***
Next Time: Well, John has finally blurted out something he’s been meaning to say for a long time, but could his earlier actions spell the end of the road for him and Nick?.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys...and others!
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, John Hart, two OC's, Andrea (Andie) Carlowe and Nick Jones.
Spoilers: Set after Exit Wounds.
Summary: A walk with chips turns sour when John's past suddenly comes back to haunt him.
Chapter 31
One week later…
Nick rolled over on the wet grass, just managing to grab his gun before the creature lunged for him, attempting to pin him to the ground. But, thanks to the rigorous combat training that John had insisted on putting the entire team through, Nick was a second too fast for the animal and the sharp claws ended up only sinking deep into the soaking wet ground.
Quickly, ignoring the way the rain was soaking his glasses and the lumps of mud in his hair, the young doctor rolled forwards and leapt to his feet, readying himself to shoot if he had to. But then John came up to him, brushing his hair back and panting.
“Our guns don’t work!” he panted. “I just emptied a whole round of bullets into that thing, but it’s only getting stronger.” He tried to pull the trigger on the creature for emphasis, and hissed through his teeth when nothing happened. “You see?”
Nick swore under his breath. “Is this thing related to Gwen’s old friend, the Nostrovite wedding crasher, by any chance?” he asked, wiping his glasses.
John shrugged. “I’ve not seen it shift shape or do any of the other weird stuff that those blighters can get up to,” he said. “Well…apart from this. But I wouldn’t rule anything out.”
Nick scratched his head. “Hey, have you got a can of Weevil spray on you?” he asked suddenly.
“Weevil spray?” repeated John, his eyes widening.
“Have you got any or not?”
“Yeah, there are two cans in my coat, but what on earth -”
But Nick had already fished out one of the cans. “On my word, we spray it,” he said. “It’s a long shot, a very long shot, but sometimes the longest shots are the best ones.” He flipped open the lid. “Okay - spray it, now!”
John had absolutely no idea what the young man was hoping to achieve by doing this - he had admitted that it was a very long shot - but something in those hazel eyes made him trust him enough to follow his lead, whatever it would bring.
He was astonished however, when the alien did actually seem to stop moving in the seconds that they saw it before white smoke began to engulf it. He blinked. As far as he could recall, Weevil spray had never done that before. Curiously, he began to step forwards, his eyes watering as the stench of the spray invaded his sinuses, and tried to investigate what was going on.
However, he quickly realised that this was a mistake, as he couldn’t see anything past the end of his nose, because the smoke was so thick. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath and lunged forwards. Immediately, he felt a sharp pain in his knees, and heard a clanging sound reverberate around the countryside as he fell flat on his back, blinking heavily.
Gradually, the smoke began to clear and John sat up slowly - only to find that the creature they had been tracking was stood, frozen in its tracks, the moonlight shining over its skin. Frowning, he reached out and touched it, expecting to feel matted fur, but instead feeling hard and cold -
“Stone?!” he exclaimed incredulously. “The Weevil spray turned this thing to stone?”
Behind him, Nick shrugged and clipped the lid back on top of his now almost empty can. “Well, someone’s going to find a rather interesting garden ornament if they come out here,” he remarked, helping the former Time Agent to his feet. “What is it, anyway?”
John, who had begun a scan using his wrist strap, shook his head. “I have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never seen anything like it before and my scanner doesn’t recognise it.”
Nick walked around the statue and tapped it cautiously, his gun still ready. “Do you think Jack might be able to work out what it is?”
“He might.” John shrugged. “Come on, help me lift this thing; we’ll get it back to the Hub.”
Once the statuesque creature was safely in the back of the SUV, John turned to him. “By the way, that was clever thinking with the Weevil spray.”
Nick shook his head. “Nope, it was just a lucky shot.” He grinned and placed a small kiss on John’s lips. “Hey, do you want to go get some food? I don’t know about you, but I’ve not eaten since lunch and I’m starving.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Have you looked at us? We’re covered in mud and soaking wet.”
“Then we’ll say that we just went for a walk in the countryside.”
“Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
“Come on! If nothing else, we could at least grab a few chips. I’m starving.”
John felt a small smile spread over his face at his partner’s excited expression. It’s times like these that I actually remember how young he is, he mused to himself. “Oh, all right, you’ve twisted my arm,” he growled, hopping into the driver’s seat. “But then we go straight to the Hub.”
“You got it,” agreed Nick.
~*~
Later that night…
“It’s been too long since we’ve done this, you know,” remarked John, chewing on his piping hot chips and skipping around the large puddles that the rain had left behind.
“Yeah,” answered Nick who was following at a more sedate pace, gazing at the sky. “Yeah, it has been a long time since we’ve walked down this street,” he added with a twinge of sarcasm.
At that, John turned round and looked at him. “Okay, what’s eating you?”
“Nothing’s eating me. I’m actually eating chips.”
“Yeah, yeah, very funny. Seriously,” John came over and looked at him, “what’s the matter? You’ve been quiet ever since we came off that hunt.”
Nick chewed on the end of a chip he’d been holding for the past few minutes, considering how best to phrase what he had been thinking. “It’s just,” but then he trailed off.
John sighed. “Hey, you’re not still beating yourself up over your kids, are you?” he asked. “Look, Nick, I know it was a hard choice, but you did the right thing. With what we do, you’re not in a position to give them the stability that they need, but you’re doing your job and protecting them every day when you come into work.”
“I know,” said Nick. “I still miss them, but I know that I did the right thing in the end. Besides, it’s not like I’m never going to see them again.” He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…and I know this is going to sound mad, but,” he dropped his voice a bit. “Well, what with all this stuff that the Rift spits out - or takes in - and all these aliens like Mr. Garden Ornament in the back of the car…I’ve almost started to forget what it feels like to have a normal life.”
John paused to let this sink in. “So, walking down this street like two ordinary people feels -”
“Incredibly weird?” Nick nodded. “Yeah, it really does.”
John gave a small laugh. “I guess that’s what Torchwood can do to you,” he mused. “It’s certainly what the Time Agency can do to you. Makes you forget who you are, sometimes.” He looked up at the parting clouds, and breathed out, before realising that Nick was looking at him curiously. “Ah, never mind,” he said. “Don’t listen to me. You’ll find yourself soon. All you’ve got to do is stop looking.” He suddenly laughed properly and slapped the younger man on the back before gently taking his hand. “Come on. Let’s go take our mutant garden gnome back to the Hub.”
They walked slowly and in companionable silence for a while, John’s fingers gently stroking the hairs on the back of Nick’s hand, soothing all his fears away. Suddenly, the former Time Agent stopped in his tracks and turned around, and gave him a tremulous smile, apparently nervous.
“Nick,” he began softly. “There’s something I’ve been meaning -”
But what John had been meaning to do was not to be revealed, as, a moment later, a burning pain shot straight through Nick’s head with a loud bang, and, a moment later, he was lying face down in the middle of the road. Puzzled and shocked, he tried to sit up, but before he could focus, something heavy slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. At the same time, a heavy fist crashed into his jaw, almost knocking him out. He could hear coarse voices shouting, but he couldn’t recognise them or make out the words. He could barely even see in front of him - the punch must have knocked his glasses flying. But in the midst of all of it, he could just recognise John’s voice, shouting, half in anger and half in terror.
How long his attackers continued, he didn’t know. But then, as suddenly as it started, everything stopped. Slowly, Nick tried to stand up, but his back screamed in protest and his head swam. He blinked rapidly, but he couldn’t see; he must have lost his glasses. He coughed loudly and spat out blood, panting and wheezing. “John…”
The word was barely a whisper, but it must have been too loud, because a second later, there was a loud yell and he felt himself being held down hard against the floor. He struggled to break free, but the only response was a searing pain as his head was slammed against the road again, almost knocking him out. His blood chilled as he felt a pair of hard hands curling around his throat, cutting off his air supply and heard a hard voice cackling above him. A moment later, however, he felt his heart lurch when he heard a pair of heavy boots behind him. He managed to twist his head slightly to look, wondering if it might be Jack. But even in the dim light of the street, it only took a second for him to realise that the figure behind him was nothing like that of his boss. And if that hadn’t been enough, then the harsh laugh would have confirmed it.
He stepped forwards, scrutinizing Nick, his slate grey eyes turning colder by the second and an ugly smile started to spread over his face as he eyed him up and down, the way a snake would eye up its prey. Nick shuddered and struggled again, fighting to breathe against the cold hands which were still clasped tightly around his throat. Tears pricked his eyes as he fought for air and he wondered if this was the end. Suddenly, and to his astonishment, however, the hands were removed and he was able to gasp loudly as air entered his lungs again. He gasped in surprise and tried to stumble to his feet, hoping that he would be able to find his glasses and call for help.
“Nick, look out!”
The words distracted him and, as he turned round in the direction of the anguished voice, a fist swung out of the darkness and knocked him back to the road. His head hit against something hard - a lamppost? - before he slid down onto the tarmac and everything went black.
~*~
“I think he’s coming round.”
“Yeah…he’s lucky to be here. One second later and -”
“I know. You don’t have to paint me a picture.”
The voices seemed very close and yet so distant. Nick could feel his head throbbing as his eyes slowly opened, only to recoil back in protest as a flash of blinding white hit them. He cringed back with a loud groan and instantly a pair of blurred figures appeared in front of him.
“Well, it looks like Sleeping Beauty’s finally woken up!” said a teasing masculine voice, but with a heavy undercurrent of concern there. “Hey…how many fingers am I holding up?”
Nick blinked again, trying to clear his vision. He knew that voice… “Jack?” he croaked, trying to focus on the dark shape in front of him.
He was rewarded with a gentle laugh and a cry of, “Well, he knows who I am, at least!”
“I don’t think I could forget you,” croaked Nick as he struggled to sit up, blinking the whole time and trying to ignore the protests his head was making. “Where are my glasses?”
“They’re here, love,” answered a soft female voice. “But I’ve had to put them back together. They snapped after what happened earlier and the glue’s got to dry properly. We can’t have them sticking to your hair now, can we?”
There it was again, that tone that tried to sound light, but that couldn’t hide the concern underneath. Nick frowned slightly. “Jack? Andie?” he said, trying not to sound as groggy as he felt. “What happened? And,” he paused, frowning. “Why am I wearing my tracksuit?”
Even without his glasses, he could see Jack hesitating and only coming forwards after casting his gaze up towards the main part of the Hub. When he was stood in front of him, Nick could see only too clearly how shocked the older man was. He looked as if he’d aged a hundred years in less than two minutes. When he spoke, his eyes were fixed on a point behind Nick’s head and his voice was quiet, as if not speaking could make what had happened untrue.
“Nick,” he said slowly, pausing to choose his words carefully. “You and John were attacked by a bunch of thugs. They were,” he gulped, “really laying into you and restraining John when he tried to stop them. But when they…” his voice trailed off and his eyes drifted towards a table beside him. “Well, John got free and…knocked them out,” he murmured, but his eyes didn’t move.
Twisting his head slightly, Nick almost jumped off the autopsy table when he saw a pile of his old clothes there, his battered and ripped jeans on top. He frowned and squinted, trying to see better, but instantly wished he hadn’t when he realised that, not only was the top button missing, but the zipper was also broken in several places as if someone had tried to…
The next thing he knew, he was shaking and throwing up into a plastic dish, gripping Andie’s hand with one hand and Jack’s with the other. It was several minutes before he realised that someone was stroking his hair, but when he did, he leapt off the table in alarm, toppling straight into someone else’s arms. He didn’t need to ask who was holding him; the heady scent slowly penetrating his mind was completely familiar and he slowly turned round to face the man behind him - and almost screamed out loud when he saw him.
“John!” he cried out, jumping away in shock. “What…what the hell happened to you?” Even without his glasses, he could tell that John looked a mess; his face and hands were literally a mass of bruises and his hands were stained with blood. In fact, Nick would have wagered that John looked easily as bad as he himself did.
He didn’t wait for an answer, but, after doing nothing more for himself than swallowing a couple of strong painkillers, he motioned for John to sit down and take his shirt off, which he did (though not without an obligatory dirty comment). Then, he started to clean and bandage the former Time Agent’s wounds as gently as he could. As he bandaged his hands, he couldn’t help noticing that one of the guns John always carried was missing. However, when he saw the pained look on John’s face, he decided that now wasn’t the best time to ask what had happened. Instead, he was about to ask something else, when he was distracted by Gwen, who looked very unnerved.
“Jack, Detective Kathy Swanson’s just called. Three men have been beaten up and…”
“And she’s wondering if we had anything to do with it,” Jack finished, before sprinting up the stairs two at a time. The others followed him to the boardroom and cringed when they saw the images that Gwen had managed to obtain from her former colleagues.
Now, she was relaying what she had been told to the others, but Nick barely heard her. He had been drawn towards the pictures of the three dead men and his heart started to pound so loudly, he was amazed that no one else in the room had heard it.
The bruising on their faces…the imprints of hands around one of their necks…the blood staining their hair…the sinister black gun wrapped in a cold, dead hand…making it look like suicide…
Nick didn’t know when he had started to attract everyone else’s attention, only that he suddenly felt Ianto touch his shoulder and then saw him standing in front of him, a concerned look on his face. However, Nick stepped away from him; he only had eyes for the man stood behind him. And, as he looked at him, the pieces slowly started to fit together in his mind…
I bandaged his bruised and broken hands…cleaned the blood off him…
And then there was that missing gun…the missing gun that I’m seeing right now…
Almost before he knew what he was doing, Nick ran out of the boardroom and back down the heavy stone steps to the autopsy bay, his mind racing as he leaned against the wall. No…no, it can’t be true…it can’t be…he didn’t…
“Nick, wait! Please, just let me -”
“You did do it.” Nick’s voice was almost toneless in its coldness. He didn’t even turn round when he heard John’s familiar footsteps behind him. “You killed them.”
There was an audible wince behind him, but then John said, “Yes, I did. And I almost regret doing it, because it means I can’t go back and hurt them again.”
There was a long pause as Nick finally turned round, still holding onto the table, and straightened up, turning all his focus onto the man stood in front of him. “What did you say?” he breathed out, unsure if he was more shocked or angry.
John’s mouth went slightly dry at the tone, but he stood his ground. “I said that the only reason I regret killing them is because it means I can’t go back and torture them again.” He stepped forwards. “I did it for you, Nick.”
“For me?” exclaimed Nick, his control finally breaking. “How can you say that? You…murdered three men…and you did it for me?!” He waved aside John’s half-formed replies and carried on. “How can I believe you’ve changed when you turn around and do something like this? There was no need for it - no need at all!”
Jack and Ianto had heard the argument by now and had come down to see what was going on. “Nick,” said Jack quietly. “I understand that you’re upset and that you’re very confused, but is now really the time to be doing this?”
“Oh, I think now is the perfect time to be doing this, Jack!” answered Nick, his eyes blazing almost as bright as his hair. He turned back to John, focusing all his anger on him. “I don’t want to know how you could do it, John - I know perfectly well how you could do it! But I do want to know why!”
“Nick, please!” exclaimed John. “Jack’s right, now isn’t -”
“Tell me!” screamed Nick, slamming a tray of instruments onto the table with such a loud crash that everyone in the surrounding area jumped. “Tell me why you did it!”
“Because I love you!” shouted John.
***
Next Time: Well, John has finally blurted out something he’s been meaning to say for a long time, but could his earlier actions spell the end of the road for him and Nick?.