Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 34/40 Act 3/8)
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: violence, strong language, dark themes
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "End of Days" and mentions BBC's Captain's Blog, entry 13.
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, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34 Act 1/8 Part 1, Ch 34 Act 1/8 Part 2, Ch 34 Act 2/8
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 34 "End of Days"
Act III: "It's coming…from the darkness."
Cardiff A&E
Bloody Jack Harkness was right.
Owen's chest heaved as he clutched the SUV's steering wheel. He was a hair's breath away from pulling up to a curb and vomiting his guts out. He still couldn't get the taste of stale air out of his mouth from the isolation suit. His hands felt dry and cracked from the disinfectant powder he snowed over Tosh and himself before they climbed into the SUV.
The Black Plague. Christ.
Immunity systems of the 21st century were strong enough to defend against most modern diseases; every insidious filthy thing mankind thought up-on purpose or not-they have good proactive solutions. But smallpox? Cholera? Or the 1918 pandemic? And the Rift didn't just go back in time. It didn't just spit out people like Diane or a dying 14th century woman. No, the Rift could also go through the future. Antibiotics that were already developed there were not even conceived yet here. There were no defenses. Their DNA, stem cell system, might not recognize some of the protein strands. Quarantine, mass sterilization might not even help. People literally could drop dead where they stood. Fucking shit.
The road in front of him was empty for which Owen was thankful. Owen didn't want to think about negotiating through traffic or barrel through bystanders because some idiotic decides today was the day he was going to obey the law.
Tosh was far too quiet for Owen's liking. She stared out the windshield, clutching her scanner like it was her mother's hand. Owen needed her to fill the SUV with her endless prattle about numbers and computers and parameters and shit. For once, he wouldn't have minded it; it meant she was thinking up a solution. As dull and teeth achingly impassioned as she could be about her numbers, Toshiko Sato was, above all else, very clever.
The need to get back to Torchwood was bordering on childish; as if getting back to that hollowed out metal bunker could do some good right now. But Owen was holding onto the slim hope that their mysterious Captain Harkness-not even his real name according to Tosh's past research-would have their plight's version of penicillin.
Jack knew about a lot of the aliens and tech they had encountered. And while he mimicked Alex's constant mantra about how everything will change in the 21st century, Jack actually seemed to be preparing them for it. Preparing himself to stand alongside them for whatever was going to happen whereas Alex acted most of the time like he was just there to pass the reins. It made the purpose more tangible. There was a dark prediction neither Alex nor Jack would share, but Jack seemed to have a strategy for it; as if he knew what needed to be done to keep this happen. Owen, for the first time after a long time, felt a renewed purpose in Torchwood.
Jack better have some answers. Otherwise, they were all screwed.
"Jack will figure it out," Tosh murmured all of the sudden next to him.
Owen just grunted, but he did press harder on the pedal and the kilometers shrank.
Ianto found the Weevil alone, snacking on discarded stale chips under the wharf just outside the Tourist office. How convenient. Ianto didn't have to travel far, didn't need his car-they really should consider a second SUV-and thankfully didn't need anything more than the anti-Weevil spray to subdue it.
Ianto kept behind the Weevil, a fist on the back of its collar, the other gripping the handle of his utility light and the spray.
The vaults were slowly filling up on all nine levels, each compartment filled with either the odd Persian warrior, Weevils, and the occasional Hoix or Dogon. As Ianto passed each door, he could hear banging, snarling. The Weevil would stop by each one before lurching away with a nudge from Ianto.
Owen had called on his way back from A&E with Tosh. Brusque, his voice terse with stress, he warned everybody to stay away from anyone who looked human, out of time, and most importantly, sick.
Ianto was afraid to ask for more details. Jack, on the other channel, made some sort of connection, and snapped back he and Gwen were on their way back as well with a Roman soldier.
…
Ianto wasn't going to ask about that either.
The Weevil in front of him grumbled, moaned and fidgeted. Ianto tensed, spray ready. The PV-35 solution that originated from London was a frighteningly effective chemical most of the times. Ianto didn't want to think about Jack being held under it for so long.
A snarl and the Weevil lurched. A quick puff in its direction and it whined submissively, shoulders stooping, making it shorter than Ianto.
"It isn't so bad," Ianto murmured. He had found talking to them for some reason calmed them, whereas listening to Gwen or Owen's voices made them garble frenziedly. They tilt their heads as if listening, as if they understood. Ianto certainly hoped not; lord knows what they think of the one sided conversations he has during their feeding.
The Weevil huffed in a half bark.
"The accommodations aren't terrible," Ianto told the back of its enlarged skull. "They're very well kept, there are no wake up calls, occasional poking from our resident doctor and all the Weevil kibble you can eat."
The Weevil grumbled at him. It shuffled begrudgingly in front of Ianto down the long corridor.
The vaults were soundproof up to a certain extent. Ianto could still hear the muffled sounds of confused and enraged victims the Rift had spewed out into 21st century Cardiff.
They sounded like howls.
His flashlight gripped firmly in his hand provided a lurid glow that extended past the Weevil in front of him and a few strides more. The spot of light swung left to right as Ianto tried to manage his bearings. The Weevil had no trouble finding its way. Light sensitive, possibly? Perhaps why they favored the sewers so much.
Making his way more by memory than light didn't sit well with Ianto. It reminded him too much of when he first arrived in Cardiff. Jack had happily hired him, welcomed him like a long lost friend while he quietly built a converter unit in their lower levels. He wondered morbidly if Jack ever once regretted hiring him; would Jack have even shot him with Lisa back then? How different things were now than just a few months ago.
"…an…to…"
Ianto stiffened. He heard a whisper brush by him as swift as a wind, like fingers grazing lightly across the back of his shoulders. It even felt like the hair on the back of his head ruffled.
The Weevil stilled and sniffed the darkness around it.
"Don't tell me Jack has fallen into a well," Ianto murmured, his lips twitching because the Weevil pawed the air. It huffed again, head craning, sniffing.
"…Ianto…"
This time, the fingers drew ice across his back. The skin on his shoulders, under his suit rippled into a line of goose flesh that actually felt painful. A violent shiver ripped through him, enough so that Ianto took a step back, his light zipping around in a quick arc before returning to face front. The coppery green doors flashed in splotches of jade and iron reds as the light passed them. Just doors.
Nothing more.
The Weevil turned its head and grunted at him, a short snarl and hiss. It almost sounded like an inquiry.
Someone down the passage quietly howled in response and the Weevil cringed and whimpered.
Ianto's mouth went dry.
"Yes…Well," he began. His fist on the spray shook minutely. "Perhaps a suite on the upper levels instead?"
Beady eyes in sunken sockets squinted towards him, canines bared into a feral grin, its teeth white under the light. It barked softly.
And promptly, the flashlight went out.
"Shit!" Ianto jumped.
The Weevil surprisingly didn't try to escape. It stood an arm's length away, half crouched, its bound hands in front of it. It turned its skull, too large and misshapen to ever be mistaken for human, but its tiny, close-together eyes were clear. It stared hard at Ianto and woofed.
Let's get out of here.
Ianto cleared his throat. He nodded towards the stairs leading out of the vaults. The Weevil was still complacent-probably the spray at work-and it dutifully shuffled up the steps. But not before giving the air one final sniff.
As his shoes clanged loudly up the metal steps, it occurred to Ianto that they had just passed the vault where he once hid Lisa; where she died. The revelation stole his breath, quickened his steps and by the time they reached the main cell area, Ianto was panting.
"Coming through!"
Ianto could hear Jack and Gwen inside the cell area, their voices hurried and urgent. They didn't bother to lower them and he caught a fragment, Bilis' name, trickling through as soon as he opened the door.
The Weevil just then decided their unofficial truce from down in the vaults was over and rose to its full height in challenge. Ianto set his jaw, waved the spray and it simpered, shuffling into the cell. As soon as it was in, it began moaning again. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand.
Jack frowned mildly at Ianto because no one told him Ianto was out Weevil hunting alone. Ianto could feel his examination, scanning him from head to foot.
"Thirteen more reports of Weevils on the loose," Ianto spoke up before Jack could find an imaginary wrinkle on him. Ianto ran a hand through his hair to give himself a chance to catch his breath. He had run up the steps like some scared schoolboy. "We're not gonna keep up at this rate," Ianto reported, feeling a little steadier.
That frown never completely went away but this time, it was directed towards the cell. The Weevil stood there, staring cross-eyed back at them, making that low sound deep in its throat.
"Everything's on the increase," Jack said, glancing over to Ianto again. There was no expression but his eyes were dark when he looked over. They were hard and his mouth was unsmiling.
That quiver returned deep in his belly.
"Can we stop them from making that noise?" Gwen complained. She made a face. She stared at the Weevil. It stood there, its paws on the thick glass, head tipped back and gave another mournful bray.
Ianto resisted rolling his eyes. Yes, why didn't he think of that? "If you've got any ideas how."
Gwen, realizing how it sounded, offered Ianto a sheepish grimace in apology.
Jack studied the Weevil, not noticing the silent exchange. "Maybe they're time sensitive," he mused. "This disturbance may be too much for them." His brow furrowed.
The Weevil simply moaned. It began to pace the entire cell, which wasn't much.
"We're now full in all vaults across all nine levels." Ianto didn't fancy going down there again. The goose bumps on his back haven't eased yet. "Do you want me to activate the vaults below?" When Gwen frowned, Ianto cleared his throat. There was an odd notation in Suzie's files, cautioning that anyone venturing into the sub-levels should go in pairs. "It's just we've never used them since I've been here," he explained more for Gwen's benefit.
Horror was seeping into Gwen's eyes. There were dozens of vaults on each level, vaults they all thought were a bit excessive. Now, they were inadequate.
Jack scowled when he reached the same conclusion. "Do it." He turned back to Gwen. "Gwen, maybe you're right. Let's run a search on your dance hall buddy. We need to find him."
"Okay."
As they left, Ianto felt Jack brush his fingers to the back of his hand, but before Ianto could grab them, embrace them and absorb what his touch could provide, Jack was gone.
Ianto set his hands on the glass and exhaled slowly. It took him aback how bereft he felt when Jack's fingers vanished from his skin.
The Weevil surged up towards him, but instead of snarling at his face like most Weevils tend to do whenever anyone approached, it turned its alien head and growled at something to Ianto's right.
The lights flickered.
Ianto spun around. And there she was.
Dressed still in the red top and jeans when he last left her, Lisa Hallet looked vivid, flawless, and very much human.
"Hello, Ianto."
A ghost. She could only be a ghost. Ianto staggered a step back, his back smacking into the glass. But her voice sang clear, rolled smoothly like she was here-oh God-unhampered by alien cyborg technology.
"What do you want? Why are you here?" Ianto cracked, riveted to the approaching specter. Lisa, God, Lisa, as beautiful now as she was back then. She stood there, a finger absently fixing her hoop earring just like when Ianto last saw her. He left her standing alone on the tenth floor, left everyone to go to the MX-CR chamber. They had never said goodbye. He couldn't remember what they had said to each other. He'd never told anyone goodbye.
"This isn't happening." Ianto was dizzy as she approached and nearly wept when he could smell jasmine.
When Lisa took his hand, Ianto's heart seized. Long, manicured fingers wrapped around his hand. They were both fragile and strong and they were warm to his touch. It would be his undoing.
Lisa, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out.
Lisa's eyes were oddly dark, serious, as they were fixed to his face. Her hand simply held his and Ianto didn't dare try to squeeze her grasp. He was afraid she might not return the gesture.
"There's only one way to stop this before things get worse." Whereas her voice before was always high with excitement, vibrating with the thrill of witnessing the opening of the void ship, of witnessing the spatial breach, her tone now was flat, serious. It made her almost alien, in-human despite the lack of metal skin.
"People will die, Ianto"
His insides grew ice cold. The wails of Torchwood's alarms bang about in his head. He could smell burning flesh and the shrill screams of drill on bone. He thought he could taste ash and copper.
"Thousands of people," Lisa warned. There was no sympathy in Lisa's gaze, only cool consideration when she added, "Unless you open the rift."
Ianto closed his eyes when nausea threatened to consume. "Lisa," he croaked and finally dared to apply pressure to the fingers limp yet warm in his grasp. Don't go. "Lisa, I'm so sorry." Ianto squeezed them again.
The fingers vanished and his hand was empty.
Ianto's eyes flew open. His breath choked in his throat as he pivoted to his left then his right. The corridor was bare.
The Weevil behind the glass pressed its skull to the barrier and stared down the corridor and growled.
"Lisa," he whispered, his hand that just held a ghost, a memory, he was afraid to know, twitched. Her presence was gone and left his palm cold, clammy, and bereft. Hands on his hips to steady himself, to try and regain some sense of equilibrium, Ianto looked again, searched the shadows for her, but Lisa was gone. No, Ianto thought dazedly. Lisa was never here. She was buried far from Cardiff, close to the spot they favored in the summer. It couldn't have bee-God, he'd forgotten how little her hand always felt in his, how jasmine followed her like a second skin. How could it have smelled, felt, looked so much like his lost Lisa?
The vaults skewed sharply and he staggered until his shoulder slammed into the wall. Ianto covered his mouth with a hand and breathed through his nose. That couldn't have been real, could it? The rift. Time was cracking like an eggshell everywhere, spilling and oozing. It didn't mean she was alive. It meant…it just meant…
It was hard to think. Ianto slid to the floor, gasping. It was all Ianto could do as he thought about how cool Lisa looked to him before she was lost to him again. His apology was left unanswered.
Act IV
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: violence, strong language, dark themes
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to TW's "End of Days" and mentions BBC's Captain's Blog, entry 13.
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, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34 Act 1/8 Part 1, Ch 34 Act 1/8 Part 2, Ch 34 Act 2/8
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 34 "End of Days"
Act III: "It's coming…from the darkness."
Cardiff A&E
Bloody Jack Harkness was right.
Owen's chest heaved as he clutched the SUV's steering wheel. He was a hair's breath away from pulling up to a curb and vomiting his guts out. He still couldn't get the taste of stale air out of his mouth from the isolation suit. His hands felt dry and cracked from the disinfectant powder he snowed over Tosh and himself before they climbed into the SUV.
The Black Plague. Christ.
Immunity systems of the 21st century were strong enough to defend against most modern diseases; every insidious filthy thing mankind thought up-on purpose or not-they have good proactive solutions. But smallpox? Cholera? Or the 1918 pandemic? And the Rift didn't just go back in time. It didn't just spit out people like Diane or a dying 14th century woman. No, the Rift could also go through the future. Antibiotics that were already developed there were not even conceived yet here. There were no defenses. Their DNA, stem cell system, might not recognize some of the protein strands. Quarantine, mass sterilization might not even help. People literally could drop dead where they stood. Fucking shit.
The road in front of him was empty for which Owen was thankful. Owen didn't want to think about negotiating through traffic or barrel through bystanders because some idiotic decides today was the day he was going to obey the law.
Tosh was far too quiet for Owen's liking. She stared out the windshield, clutching her scanner like it was her mother's hand. Owen needed her to fill the SUV with her endless prattle about numbers and computers and parameters and shit. For once, he wouldn't have minded it; it meant she was thinking up a solution. As dull and teeth achingly impassioned as she could be about her numbers, Toshiko Sato was, above all else, very clever.
The need to get back to Torchwood was bordering on childish; as if getting back to that hollowed out metal bunker could do some good right now. But Owen was holding onto the slim hope that their mysterious Captain Harkness-not even his real name according to Tosh's past research-would have their plight's version of penicillin.
Jack knew about a lot of the aliens and tech they had encountered. And while he mimicked Alex's constant mantra about how everything will change in the 21st century, Jack actually seemed to be preparing them for it. Preparing himself to stand alongside them for whatever was going to happen whereas Alex acted most of the time like he was just there to pass the reins. It made the purpose more tangible. There was a dark prediction neither Alex nor Jack would share, but Jack seemed to have a strategy for it; as if he knew what needed to be done to keep this happen. Owen, for the first time after a long time, felt a renewed purpose in Torchwood.
Jack better have some answers. Otherwise, they were all screwed.
"Jack will figure it out," Tosh murmured all of the sudden next to him.
Owen just grunted, but he did press harder on the pedal and the kilometers shrank.
Ianto found the Weevil alone, snacking on discarded stale chips under the wharf just outside the Tourist office. How convenient. Ianto didn't have to travel far, didn't need his car-they really should consider a second SUV-and thankfully didn't need anything more than the anti-Weevil spray to subdue it.
Ianto kept behind the Weevil, a fist on the back of its collar, the other gripping the handle of his utility light and the spray.
The vaults were slowly filling up on all nine levels, each compartment filled with either the odd Persian warrior, Weevils, and the occasional Hoix or Dogon. As Ianto passed each door, he could hear banging, snarling. The Weevil would stop by each one before lurching away with a nudge from Ianto.
Owen had called on his way back from A&E with Tosh. Brusque, his voice terse with stress, he warned everybody to stay away from anyone who looked human, out of time, and most importantly, sick.
Ianto was afraid to ask for more details. Jack, on the other channel, made some sort of connection, and snapped back he and Gwen were on their way back as well with a Roman soldier.
…
Ianto wasn't going to ask about that either.
The Weevil in front of him grumbled, moaned and fidgeted. Ianto tensed, spray ready. The PV-35 solution that originated from London was a frighteningly effective chemical most of the times. Ianto didn't want to think about Jack being held under it for so long.
A snarl and the Weevil lurched. A quick puff in its direction and it whined submissively, shoulders stooping, making it shorter than Ianto.
"It isn't so bad," Ianto murmured. He had found talking to them for some reason calmed them, whereas listening to Gwen or Owen's voices made them garble frenziedly. They tilt their heads as if listening, as if they understood. Ianto certainly hoped not; lord knows what they think of the one sided conversations he has during their feeding.
The Weevil huffed in a half bark.
"The accommodations aren't terrible," Ianto told the back of its enlarged skull. "They're very well kept, there are no wake up calls, occasional poking from our resident doctor and all the Weevil kibble you can eat."
The Weevil grumbled at him. It shuffled begrudgingly in front of Ianto down the long corridor.
The vaults were soundproof up to a certain extent. Ianto could still hear the muffled sounds of confused and enraged victims the Rift had spewed out into 21st century Cardiff.
They sounded like howls.
His flashlight gripped firmly in his hand provided a lurid glow that extended past the Weevil in front of him and a few strides more. The spot of light swung left to right as Ianto tried to manage his bearings. The Weevil had no trouble finding its way. Light sensitive, possibly? Perhaps why they favored the sewers so much.
Making his way more by memory than light didn't sit well with Ianto. It reminded him too much of when he first arrived in Cardiff. Jack had happily hired him, welcomed him like a long lost friend while he quietly built a converter unit in their lower levels. He wondered morbidly if Jack ever once regretted hiring him; would Jack have even shot him with Lisa back then? How different things were now than just a few months ago.
"…an…to…"
Ianto stiffened. He heard a whisper brush by him as swift as a wind, like fingers grazing lightly across the back of his shoulders. It even felt like the hair on the back of his head ruffled.
The Weevil stilled and sniffed the darkness around it.
"Don't tell me Jack has fallen into a well," Ianto murmured, his lips twitching because the Weevil pawed the air. It huffed again, head craning, sniffing.
"…Ianto…"
This time, the fingers drew ice across his back. The skin on his shoulders, under his suit rippled into a line of goose flesh that actually felt painful. A violent shiver ripped through him, enough so that Ianto took a step back, his light zipping around in a quick arc before returning to face front. The coppery green doors flashed in splotches of jade and iron reds as the light passed them. Just doors.
Nothing more.
The Weevil turned its head and grunted at him, a short snarl and hiss. It almost sounded like an inquiry.
Someone down the passage quietly howled in response and the Weevil cringed and whimpered.
Ianto's mouth went dry.
"Yes…Well," he began. His fist on the spray shook minutely. "Perhaps a suite on the upper levels instead?"
Beady eyes in sunken sockets squinted towards him, canines bared into a feral grin, its teeth white under the light. It barked softly.
And promptly, the flashlight went out.
"Shit!" Ianto jumped.
The Weevil surprisingly didn't try to escape. It stood an arm's length away, half crouched, its bound hands in front of it. It turned its skull, too large and misshapen to ever be mistaken for human, but its tiny, close-together eyes were clear. It stared hard at Ianto and woofed.
Let's get out of here.
Ianto cleared his throat. He nodded towards the stairs leading out of the vaults. The Weevil was still complacent-probably the spray at work-and it dutifully shuffled up the steps. But not before giving the air one final sniff.
As his shoes clanged loudly up the metal steps, it occurred to Ianto that they had just passed the vault where he once hid Lisa; where she died. The revelation stole his breath, quickened his steps and by the time they reached the main cell area, Ianto was panting.
"Coming through!"
Ianto could hear Jack and Gwen inside the cell area, their voices hurried and urgent. They didn't bother to lower them and he caught a fragment, Bilis' name, trickling through as soon as he opened the door.
The Weevil just then decided their unofficial truce from down in the vaults was over and rose to its full height in challenge. Ianto set his jaw, waved the spray and it simpered, shuffling into the cell. As soon as it was in, it began moaning again. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand.
Jack frowned mildly at Ianto because no one told him Ianto was out Weevil hunting alone. Ianto could feel his examination, scanning him from head to foot.
"Thirteen more reports of Weevils on the loose," Ianto spoke up before Jack could find an imaginary wrinkle on him. Ianto ran a hand through his hair to give himself a chance to catch his breath. He had run up the steps like some scared schoolboy. "We're not gonna keep up at this rate," Ianto reported, feeling a little steadier.
That frown never completely went away but this time, it was directed towards the cell. The Weevil stood there, staring cross-eyed back at them, making that low sound deep in its throat.
"Everything's on the increase," Jack said, glancing over to Ianto again. There was no expression but his eyes were dark when he looked over. They were hard and his mouth was unsmiling.
That quiver returned deep in his belly.
"Can we stop them from making that noise?" Gwen complained. She made a face. She stared at the Weevil. It stood there, its paws on the thick glass, head tipped back and gave another mournful bray.
Ianto resisted rolling his eyes. Yes, why didn't he think of that? "If you've got any ideas how."
Gwen, realizing how it sounded, offered Ianto a sheepish grimace in apology.
Jack studied the Weevil, not noticing the silent exchange. "Maybe they're time sensitive," he mused. "This disturbance may be too much for them." His brow furrowed.
The Weevil simply moaned. It began to pace the entire cell, which wasn't much.
"We're now full in all vaults across all nine levels." Ianto didn't fancy going down there again. The goose bumps on his back haven't eased yet. "Do you want me to activate the vaults below?" When Gwen frowned, Ianto cleared his throat. There was an odd notation in Suzie's files, cautioning that anyone venturing into the sub-levels should go in pairs. "It's just we've never used them since I've been here," he explained more for Gwen's benefit.
Horror was seeping into Gwen's eyes. There were dozens of vaults on each level, vaults they all thought were a bit excessive. Now, they were inadequate.
Jack scowled when he reached the same conclusion. "Do it." He turned back to Gwen. "Gwen, maybe you're right. Let's run a search on your dance hall buddy. We need to find him."
"Okay."
As they left, Ianto felt Jack brush his fingers to the back of his hand, but before Ianto could grab them, embrace them and absorb what his touch could provide, Jack was gone.
Ianto set his hands on the glass and exhaled slowly. It took him aback how bereft he felt when Jack's fingers vanished from his skin.
The Weevil surged up towards him, but instead of snarling at his face like most Weevils tend to do whenever anyone approached, it turned its alien head and growled at something to Ianto's right.
The lights flickered.
Ianto spun around. And there she was.
Dressed still in the red top and jeans when he last left her, Lisa Hallet looked vivid, flawless, and very much human.
"Hello, Ianto."
A ghost. She could only be a ghost. Ianto staggered a step back, his back smacking into the glass. But her voice sang clear, rolled smoothly like she was here-oh God-unhampered by alien cyborg technology.
"What do you want? Why are you here?" Ianto cracked, riveted to the approaching specter. Lisa, God, Lisa, as beautiful now as she was back then. She stood there, a finger absently fixing her hoop earring just like when Ianto last saw her. He left her standing alone on the tenth floor, left everyone to go to the MX-CR chamber. They had never said goodbye. He couldn't remember what they had said to each other. He'd never told anyone goodbye.
"This isn't happening." Ianto was dizzy as she approached and nearly wept when he could smell jasmine.
When Lisa took his hand, Ianto's heart seized. Long, manicured fingers wrapped around his hand. They were both fragile and strong and they were warm to his touch. It would be his undoing.
Lisa, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out.
Lisa's eyes were oddly dark, serious, as they were fixed to his face. Her hand simply held his and Ianto didn't dare try to squeeze her grasp. He was afraid she might not return the gesture.
"There's only one way to stop this before things get worse." Whereas her voice before was always high with excitement, vibrating with the thrill of witnessing the opening of the void ship, of witnessing the spatial breach, her tone now was flat, serious. It made her almost alien, in-human despite the lack of metal skin.
"People will die, Ianto"
His insides grew ice cold. The wails of Torchwood's alarms bang about in his head. He could smell burning flesh and the shrill screams of drill on bone. He thought he could taste ash and copper.
"Thousands of people," Lisa warned. There was no sympathy in Lisa's gaze, only cool consideration when she added, "Unless you open the rift."
Ianto closed his eyes when nausea threatened to consume. "Lisa," he croaked and finally dared to apply pressure to the fingers limp yet warm in his grasp. Don't go. "Lisa, I'm so sorry." Ianto squeezed them again.
The fingers vanished and his hand was empty.
Ianto's eyes flew open. His breath choked in his throat as he pivoted to his left then his right. The corridor was bare.
The Weevil behind the glass pressed its skull to the barrier and stared down the corridor and growled.
"Lisa," he whispered, his hand that just held a ghost, a memory, he was afraid to know, twitched. Her presence was gone and left his palm cold, clammy, and bereft. Hands on his hips to steady himself, to try and regain some sense of equilibrium, Ianto looked again, searched the shadows for her, but Lisa was gone. No, Ianto thought dazedly. Lisa was never here. She was buried far from Cardiff, close to the spot they favored in the summer. It couldn't have bee-God, he'd forgotten how little her hand always felt in his, how jasmine followed her like a second skin. How could it have smelled, felt, looked so much like his lost Lisa?
The vaults skewed sharply and he staggered until his shoulder slammed into the wall. Ianto covered his mouth with a hand and breathed through his nose. That couldn't have been real, could it? The rift. Time was cracking like an eggshell everywhere, spilling and oozing. It didn't mean she was alive. It meant…it just meant…
It was hard to think. Ianto slid to the floor, gasping. It was all Ianto could do as he thought about how cool Lisa looked to him before she was lost to him again. His apology was left unanswered.
Act IV
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.