Title: Holding Out For A Hero
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Ianto, Team, Myfanwy.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: The members of Torchwood are usually the heroes, even if nobody else knows that, but sometimes even heroes need some help.
Word Count: 1342
Written For: Prompt 162 - Hero at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
The citizens of Cardiff, especially those who worked in law enforcement, didn’t care for Torchwood; they considered the organisation to be an unnecessary and unwanted pain in the posterior. That was largely because they didn’t have any clear idea of what Torchwood actually did. All they knew was that the big, black SUV would arrive somewhere, having broken most of the city’s traffic laws enroute, come to a halt with a screech of brakes, and then chaos would ensue. That being the case, perhaps their antipathy towards the supposed Special Ops team was understandable.
If anyone had tried to explain to them that the men and women of Torchwood Three were in fact heroes, constantly risking their lives to protect the people of earth from dangerous aliens and their frequently unfathomable technology, they wouldn’t have been believed. That was the trouble with working for a secret organisation; they couldn’t tell people the truth without undermining their ability to do their job and putting themselves in even greater danger. When anyone did happen to stumble across the truth, they were usually retconned as soon as possible so that they simply forgot what they’d discovered, and went on about their lives in blissful ignorance.
Before he’d become a fully fledged field agent, back when he’d been captured by cannibals during Jack’s ill-fated team-bonding excursion to the Brecon Beacons, Ianto had asked Tosh a question: If Torchwood was responsible for protecting everyone else, then who protected Torchwood? The short answer was that they protected themselves, and each other, as far as was possible. They were aware of dangers the average person couldn’t begin to imagine, and better equipped to handle those dangers than anyone else could be, thanks to the advanced and mostly alien technology they had access to.
They were a small team though, only five people standing strong against whatever was thrown at them. Being a hero was hard work, not to mention hazardous to their health. Injuries were common, often serious, and an early death was something all of them had resigned themselves to, with the exception of Jack, for whom permanent death wasn’t an option.
But Jack wasn’t here right now, and neither were any of Ianto’s other colleagues. No Owen, no Tosh, no Gwen… They were all off doing their part towards saving the world, or at least Cardiff, again. Ianto was completely alone, and in rather a lot of trouble.
He hadn’t been alone a few minutes ago; he’d been fighting a desperate battle against one of several very nasty aliens who’d thought earth was the perfect place to indulge in a spot of trophy hunting. Unfortunately, from a human point of view at least, these particular aliens got their jollies not from pitting their skills against dangerous beasts but from hunting other sentient species. They enjoyed a challenge, but not too much of one, which was why they preyed on races less technologically advanced than their own; it fed their gigantic egos by making them feel superior. Of course, while the lack of technological superiority might be true of most humans, Torchwood agents were the exceptions that proved the rule, which helped to level the playing field.
That wasn’t to say it had been an easy fight, not by any means. It was the middle of the night, so despite the city’s ever-present lights, visibility hadn’t been ideal. On top of that, Ianto’s opponent had been heavily armed and armoured, while Ianto had only been equipped with his Torchwood Special automatic, a laser pistol made by a race even more advanced than his opponent, and his trusty stun gun.
To Ianto’s considerable surprise, it had been that modest piece of weaponry which had turned out to be the most effective, shorting out the alien’s battle armour, which in turn had rendered the reptilian creature unconscious. Gravity had done the rest, since the alien had staggered backwards when Ianto had zapped it and gone over the edge of the roof where they’d been fighting. Even something that heavily armoured was unlikely to survive such a fall.
Unfortunately for Ianto, the same was true of a completely unarmoured human.
Everything should have been fine, damnit! Ianto had won the battle; by now he should have been heading back down the emergency stairs to see if any of his teammates needed his help. But as the alien had toppled off the building, its long, whiplike tail, with its savagely barbed tip, had caught on the leg of Ianto’s trousers. Before he knew what was happening, he’d been jerked right off his feet and dragged across the roof. Although he’d scrabbled with both hands, trying to find something to hold on to, there’d been nothing he could get a grip on until he'd already been pulled over the edge of the building.
Thankfully, at that point, the weight of the alien had ripped its tail barb free of Ianto’s trousers with an unpleasant tearing sound, letting him know that another of his suits had just been ruined. Almost at the same moment, his desperate fingers had caught hold of a narrow ledge, arresting his fall.
So now, here he was, dangling from a building an awfully long way above the ground, his cramped fingers barely able to maintain their tenuous grip. A careful exploration with his feet had failed to find anything resembling a foothold, and he was painfully aware that he didn’t have the strength to pull himself back up using nothing more than his fingertips.
This wasn’t how he’d thought it would end for him; it seemed so unfair after his heroic victory! He was doomed to die, all because of a bit of bad luck. He couldn’t even say goodbye to Jack, because if he let go with one hand long enough to turn his Bluetooth earpiece on, he’d be falling before he could draw breath to speak.
‘I’m sorry, Jack. I love you.’ Maybe if he projected the thought at his lover hard enough, Jack would hear him and know Ianto had been thinking of him right at the end, wishing for just a little more time.
His gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the flapping of wings and a querulous caw as something big landed on the roof above him and peered over the edge.
“Myfanwy!” Ianto gasped out. “Thank God! You have to help me!” He wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t dare let go of his precarious handhold. “Come on, old girl, just lean down a little further. I don’t want to die, not like this. You’re my only hope!”
That slim hope quickly faded as with a louder caw, the Pteranodon took to the air again, the downdraft from her powerful wings buffeting Ianto. He felt his fingers beginning to slip, knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer! Another, stronger gust of wind from the great wings hit him, jarring his grip loose, and suddenly Ianto was falling, plummeting towards the street far below…
And then he wasn’t!
Something clamped around his left wrist like a steel vice, and he found himself floating gently to the ground a few feet away from the dead alien, only to fall on his arse the moment his arm was released, his legs refusing to support him. He couldn’t blame them. It took him a few moments to regain his equilibrium, all the while purposely avoiding looking up at the roof he’d fallen from, but as Myf landed nearby he dragged himself to his feet, his legs still feeling a little shaky with relief, and turned to face her.
Waddling over to him, Myf butted her head against his chest, almost knocking Ianto back onto his arse, but he just managed to keep his balance. Reaching up, he scratched around the base of the Pteranodon’s crest, drawing a contended purr from her. He wished he had some chocolate to give her; she’d never deserved it more.
“That was some rescue, old girl; you saved my life! I don’t care what anyone else says; you’re my hero.”
The End