Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 22/40 Act 3/4)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: DARK, mentions m/m situations, strong language
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Fragments", "Everything Changes" and "Cyberwoman"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22 Act 1/4, Ch 22 Act 2/4
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 22 - "Cyberwoman 2.0"
Act III: Suspension Week 3
Most people would be glad it was Tuesday and they were going home. Apparently, Torchwood employees were not like most people.
"You sure?" Gwen stood by his office door, not moving. She held the serving tray she used to pass around coffees-it just wasn't the same-to her chest like a shield.
Jack wondered if she had thought he was going to throw his coffee at her. He shrugged.
"Rift's been pretty quiet, you guys go home. We may not get many days like these."
Gwen looked torn over her good fortune and her sense of responsibility. "Well, Rhys will be getting off soon…"
It wasn't deliberate but jabbed all the same. "What did I tell you before? Go have a normal life. You're in charge of giving us that perspective."
"Yes, but…" Gwen brightened. "We'd never finished our drinks last time because-" Her eyes widened and she hastily went on. "How about a second go on those drinks?"
"Maybe next time," Jack lowered his eyes to his paperwork, not even looking up when she sighed and left. The low talking outside started up again and Jack wished they would go home already so he could concentrate. He just couldn't remember what the paperwork was for. Alien registration? UFO sightings? Office supplies maybe?
Jack sighed and lowered his head, resting his chin on his fists. He stared at the jar sitting on the left of his desk. It was turned away-the bubbles made the hand look like it was waving goodbye-but he could hear it tapping on the glass as the liquid made it move.
"I did everything you asked," Jack whispered to it. "Why wasn't it enough?"
The jar never answered, its fingers tapping on the surface as the liquid bubbled.
"How long do I have to wait?"
"How long before it's all finished?"
"Why do I still feel so wrong?"
There was never any answer. Jack stared at the jar with gritty eyes.
"You look like shit."
Jack's gaze slid over to Owen by the door. Jack straightened in his seat.
"Stop flattering me," Jack shot back. "It's embarrassing."
"Trust me, I am flattering you by saying you look like shit," Owen drawled. "When did you last sleep?"
That would be the year 200,100, Jack darkly mused. He shrugged. "I don't require much sleep."
"But you do need some sleep," Owen countered.
But sleep meant lying down in the lonely dark on a bed that smelled like someone else, reminded him of touches that were gentled, exploring, caressing. Sleep meant going to bed and not dreaming.
"Look, the girls asked me in here to see if you want to go out for drinks." Owen folded his arms and leaned on the door. "Your treat, though."
Jack laughed, because it seemed like the correct response. "Well, with that kind of invitation, how can I refuse?" He shook his head. "No, thanks. Seriously."
Owen studied him, his lips pressed thin. "If you want me to give you anything to help you sle-"
"No," Jack said, sharper than he intended. "No drugs." He straightened up, his back popping. "Just a little trouble sleeping lately. It happens. It'll pass." Everything always does.
Owen rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't listen to the doctor. We'll be at the one next to Padlock's. Tosh wanted to try that one. If you change your mind…"
"Maybe I'll see you there," Jack said as he looked down at the files he was reviewing. He didn't look up again. Owen thankfully took the hint faster than Gwen and left.
Jack reviewed the reports from this week's Rift activity and read them over and over again until he finally admitted to himself that he was going nowhere. Jack raised his head. They had dimmed the lights in the Hub when they left and everything looked blue from the swirls and neon twists from their screensavers.
Something sat heavily on his chest. Jack swallowed. The hum within Torchwood reminded him of another mechanical murmur, surrounding him in the dark, in his room as he slept between dream and awareness of the door opening. He didn't move because the hands holding him down, the body cutting through him could never be denied…
The feel of being stretched and filled first by disgust-wrong, wrong, wrong-and then by…something else-he looked right at him, called him Jack, painted his body with feather-like touches-collided in him. His stomach cramped. That spot that he couldn't identify throbbed as he thought back to a young face in the dark, words slurred with alcohol and grief.
He said it was a mistake.
Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob escaped. Jack clenched his teeth and bunched his hands into fists.
"Stop it, stop it!" Jack hissed to himself. "It doesn't matter! It was just s-"
Thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
"Leave me alone," Jack snarled. His head pounded. Someone told him everything that he already knew in his heart. He was wrong. Just a fact, an object to be used, no one could really accept his forever, no one would ever accept him. But he had thought…
Thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
The darkness, the hard pang in his gut, and the mocking beat of "told you so, told you so" grew too loud to think. Yet the cold cadence made more sense than everything and everyone around him.
Jack needed simple. He needed to know that what he saw was what he would get. No surprises. No lies. The clear cut of pain was the only clarity he knew and Jack needed something familiar to drown away whatever was roiling and petrifying in his stomach. Jack needed something to make sense again.
Jack pushed away from his desk and climbed down the ladder. Minutes later, back in the jacket he said he would never wear and in jeans, Jack became 'James' again.
Just for one more night.
Ianto hoped Lisa would like it.
It was twenty minutes away from Kenfig Dunes, behind a village cemetery. It was away from Cardiff, away from London and the plot sat on a hill, facing the distant sea, trees lining the back as a natural border for the church.
The pastor was very sympathetic as Ianto explained Lisa had no surviving family. The service was simple. The plot lay under the shadow of an old, wide limbed tree.
The pastor said a few words from the Bible and Ianto walked with him back to his church simply because he didn't want to look at the groundskeeper shoveling dirt over her coffin.
The pastor chatted, never really expecting Ianto to respond as he talked about the village, interesting facts about the church and all sorts of things a sixty-four year old pastor would say to pass the time. Ianto didn't mind; it blocked out the dry scrape of the shovel cutting into the partially frozen dirt.
Ianto sat through tea with a polite smile and proper responses as the pastor continued on about grief and loss and how life really goes on. Etcetera, etcetera. Ianto had heard it all before when he was younger and learned the right answers to make people leave him alone. He didn't need time. He had plenty of time trying to ease Lisa's pain and watch all his planning crumble into bloodied ashes. No, what he needed was to move on, keep busy, work.
All pastors must have gone through the same counseling courses that as PCs did-Gwen made sure to call every day even if it was just to say hello-because Ianto knew what the pastor would say next. He just sipped his tea, took a tea cake and nodded every so often until the morning light became brighter as the sun moved overhead.
The plot stood out with its rectangular spot of freshly packed dirt when he exited the church. Ianto approached her, his steps slowing when he realized there was someone crouched by her tombstone. When he saw the blue greatcoat's tails sway in the breeze, Ianto ducked behind the trees before he was sighted.
He didn't know why he did that, why he approached stealthily, or why he plastered himself on the other side of the tree.
"…nice spot," Jack was saying, crouched one knee to the ground, one knee drawn up. His voice was conversational, soft, and he had one hand on the stone slab.
"It's a little far from Cardiff but I'm sure he'll visit." Something crinkled and he coughed awkwardly.
Ianto's eyes burned as he peered around the tree trunk and watched Jack set a deep violet bouquet of jasmine on the ground.
Jack stared at the inscription. "Twenty-six," he murmured. Jack sighed. "He's right. This…it's really not fair to you. I'm sorry." Jack took a deep breath.
"You had said you were wrong," Jack rasped. His hand settled on the ground and his head bowed like he was listening for something. "I know what that is like…to be wrong…but he loved you anyway. He…Everything he did…you have to understand…it was for you…"
Ianto squeezed his eyes shut, his hands over his mouth. His shoulders shook. No, not all of it.
"At least," Jack cracked. "Being wrong. It's all over. You can rest now and he'll love you forever." There was a choked sound and Jack's voice lowered to a whisper. Ianto could barely hear him.
"It's over for you now," Jack hushed. "But not for me."
Ianto's eyes flew open. He stepped away from the tree, faced her plot and he came out from under the shadows.
But Jack was gone.
Conclusion
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: DARK, mentions m/m situations, strong language
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "Fragments", "Everything Changes" and "Cyberwoman"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22 Act 1/4, Ch 22 Act 2/4
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 22 - "Cyberwoman 2.0"
Act III: Suspension Week 3
Most people would be glad it was Tuesday and they were going home. Apparently, Torchwood employees were not like most people.
"You sure?" Gwen stood by his office door, not moving. She held the serving tray she used to pass around coffees-it just wasn't the same-to her chest like a shield.
Jack wondered if she had thought he was going to throw his coffee at her. He shrugged.
"Rift's been pretty quiet, you guys go home. We may not get many days like these."
Gwen looked torn over her good fortune and her sense of responsibility. "Well, Rhys will be getting off soon…"
It wasn't deliberate but jabbed all the same. "What did I tell you before? Go have a normal life. You're in charge of giving us that perspective."
"Yes, but…" Gwen brightened. "We'd never finished our drinks last time because-" Her eyes widened and she hastily went on. "How about a second go on those drinks?"
"Maybe next time," Jack lowered his eyes to his paperwork, not even looking up when she sighed and left. The low talking outside started up again and Jack wished they would go home already so he could concentrate. He just couldn't remember what the paperwork was for. Alien registration? UFO sightings? Office supplies maybe?
Jack sighed and lowered his head, resting his chin on his fists. He stared at the jar sitting on the left of his desk. It was turned away-the bubbles made the hand look like it was waving goodbye-but he could hear it tapping on the glass as the liquid made it move.
"I did everything you asked," Jack whispered to it. "Why wasn't it enough?"
The jar never answered, its fingers tapping on the surface as the liquid bubbled.
"How long do I have to wait?"
"How long before it's all finished?"
"Why do I still feel so wrong?"
There was never any answer. Jack stared at the jar with gritty eyes.
"You look like shit."
Jack's gaze slid over to Owen by the door. Jack straightened in his seat.
"Stop flattering me," Jack shot back. "It's embarrassing."
"Trust me, I am flattering you by saying you look like shit," Owen drawled. "When did you last sleep?"
That would be the year 200,100, Jack darkly mused. He shrugged. "I don't require much sleep."
"But you do need some sleep," Owen countered.
But sleep meant lying down in the lonely dark on a bed that smelled like someone else, reminded him of touches that were gentled, exploring, caressing. Sleep meant going to bed and not dreaming.
"Look, the girls asked me in here to see if you want to go out for drinks." Owen folded his arms and leaned on the door. "Your treat, though."
Jack laughed, because it seemed like the correct response. "Well, with that kind of invitation, how can I refuse?" He shook his head. "No, thanks. Seriously."
Owen studied him, his lips pressed thin. "If you want me to give you anything to help you sle-"
"No," Jack said, sharper than he intended. "No drugs." He straightened up, his back popping. "Just a little trouble sleeping lately. It happens. It'll pass." Everything always does.
Owen rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't listen to the doctor. We'll be at the one next to Padlock's. Tosh wanted to try that one. If you change your mind…"
"Maybe I'll see you there," Jack said as he looked down at the files he was reviewing. He didn't look up again. Owen thankfully took the hint faster than Gwen and left.
Jack reviewed the reports from this week's Rift activity and read them over and over again until he finally admitted to himself that he was going nowhere. Jack raised his head. They had dimmed the lights in the Hub when they left and everything looked blue from the swirls and neon twists from their screensavers.
Something sat heavily on his chest. Jack swallowed. The hum within Torchwood reminded him of another mechanical murmur, surrounding him in the dark, in his room as he slept between dream and awareness of the door opening. He didn't move because the hands holding him down, the body cutting through him could never be denied…
The feel of being stretched and filled first by disgust-wrong, wrong, wrong-and then by…something else-he looked right at him, called him Jack, painted his body with feather-like touches-collided in him. His stomach cramped. That spot that he couldn't identify throbbed as he thought back to a young face in the dark, words slurred with alcohol and grief.
He said it was a mistake.
Something that sounded suspiciously like a sob escaped. Jack clenched his teeth and bunched his hands into fists.
"Stop it, stop it!" Jack hissed to himself. "It doesn't matter! It was just s-"
Thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
"Leave me alone," Jack snarled. His head pounded. Someone told him everything that he already knew in his heart. He was wrong. Just a fact, an object to be used, no one could really accept his forever, no one would ever accept him. But he had thought…
Thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
The darkness, the hard pang in his gut, and the mocking beat of "told you so, told you so" grew too loud to think. Yet the cold cadence made more sense than everything and everyone around him.
Jack needed simple. He needed to know that what he saw was what he would get. No surprises. No lies. The clear cut of pain was the only clarity he knew and Jack needed something familiar to drown away whatever was roiling and petrifying in his stomach. Jack needed something to make sense again.
Jack pushed away from his desk and climbed down the ladder. Minutes later, back in the jacket he said he would never wear and in jeans, Jack became 'James' again.
Just for one more night.
Ianto hoped Lisa would like it.
It was twenty minutes away from Kenfig Dunes, behind a village cemetery. It was away from Cardiff, away from London and the plot sat on a hill, facing the distant sea, trees lining the back as a natural border for the church.
The pastor was very sympathetic as Ianto explained Lisa had no surviving family. The service was simple. The plot lay under the shadow of an old, wide limbed tree.
The pastor said a few words from the Bible and Ianto walked with him back to his church simply because he didn't want to look at the groundskeeper shoveling dirt over her coffin.
The pastor chatted, never really expecting Ianto to respond as he talked about the village, interesting facts about the church and all sorts of things a sixty-four year old pastor would say to pass the time. Ianto didn't mind; it blocked out the dry scrape of the shovel cutting into the partially frozen dirt.
Ianto sat through tea with a polite smile and proper responses as the pastor continued on about grief and loss and how life really goes on. Etcetera, etcetera. Ianto had heard it all before when he was younger and learned the right answers to make people leave him alone. He didn't need time. He had plenty of time trying to ease Lisa's pain and watch all his planning crumble into bloodied ashes. No, what he needed was to move on, keep busy, work.
All pastors must have gone through the same counseling courses that as PCs did-Gwen made sure to call every day even if it was just to say hello-because Ianto knew what the pastor would say next. He just sipped his tea, took a tea cake and nodded every so often until the morning light became brighter as the sun moved overhead.
The plot stood out with its rectangular spot of freshly packed dirt when he exited the church. Ianto approached her, his steps slowing when he realized there was someone crouched by her tombstone. When he saw the blue greatcoat's tails sway in the breeze, Ianto ducked behind the trees before he was sighted.
He didn't know why he did that, why he approached stealthily, or why he plastered himself on the other side of the tree.
"…nice spot," Jack was saying, crouched one knee to the ground, one knee drawn up. His voice was conversational, soft, and he had one hand on the stone slab.
"It's a little far from Cardiff but I'm sure he'll visit." Something crinkled and he coughed awkwardly.
Ianto's eyes burned as he peered around the tree trunk and watched Jack set a deep violet bouquet of jasmine on the ground.
Jack stared at the inscription. "Twenty-six," he murmured. Jack sighed. "He's right. This…it's really not fair to you. I'm sorry." Jack took a deep breath.
"You had said you were wrong," Jack rasped. His hand settled on the ground and his head bowed like he was listening for something. "I know what that is like…to be wrong…but he loved you anyway. He…Everything he did…you have to understand…it was for you…"
Ianto squeezed his eyes shut, his hands over his mouth. His shoulders shook. No, not all of it.
"At least," Jack cracked. "Being wrong. It's all over. You can rest now and he'll love you forever." There was a choked sound and Jack's voice lowered to a whisper. Ianto could barely hear him.
"It's over for you now," Jack hushed. "But not for me."
Ianto's eyes flew open. He stepped away from the tree, faced her plot and he came out from under the shadows.
But Jack was gone.
Conclusion
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.