Turning Point - 12/64
Title: Turning Point
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: budding Jack/Ianto, references to past Ianto/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Some information and events from s1,2. NONE for s3.
Summary: In the aftermath of Lisa's death, Ianto is struggling to cope - and new surprises don't help matters much. Can his friends on the team at Torchwood help him carry on?
Author's Note: Sequel to Guilt.
Thanks to: My lovely beta cazmalfoy, angelzbabe1989 for idea bouncing, and morbid_sparks for cheerleading even when she doesn't know what happens.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Twelve
Jack followed Tosh, Owen and Suzie into the hospital morgue uncomfortably. Ever since the first time he’d woken up in one - almost a century before - he’d disliked morgues. The vaults at Torchwood were just dissimilar enough that they didn’t give him a shiver down his spine whenever he went down there.
This late in the evening, the room was darkened and all but abandoned. The junior pathologist, who was nominally in charge of the place for the night, was nowhere to be seen. Although they were keeping an eye out, just in case he reappeared.
Jack set his shoulders and resolutely pushed his discomfort away.
“Right, so where do we start?” he asked as Suzie set the case she was carrying on the floor and opened it, pulling out the metal glove.
“Doesn’t really matter, I don’t think,” Suzie replied, her gaze fixed on the glove. “Pick one at random.”
Jack took a deep breath and pointed at a drawer, looking to Tosh - who had hacked into the hospital system on their way in - for the details of its occupant.
“Brian Davies, 47,” she said, tapping at her PDA. “Heart attack, this afternoon.”
“So not long ago, then,” Suzie said, slipping the glove onto her hand. “That’s good.”
Owen grabbed the handle and opened the relevant door, sliding the drawer out carefully.
He pulled the sheet the man was wrapped in back from his face, closing his eyes for a moment as he contemplated what they were about to attempt. He unwrapped a little more, thinking that if it worked, there was no use panicking the man any more than they had to; he didn’t need to find himself wrapped tightly in a sheet.
The rest of them all took a step back, unsure what they should expect, as Suzie stepped forward, the glove on her hand.
“If this works,” Tosh suddenly started, “what do we say to him?” The others all looked at her. “Well, we can’t just bring him back from the dead - however temporarily it might turn out to be - and then stand and stare at him in silence. We have to say something.”
“I think we might be a little busy with getting him not to panic to have any sort of meaningful conversation, Tosh,” Owen said wryly.
Jack nodded. “He has a point.”
Suzie stepped closer and rested her gloved hand on the man’s head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; an oddly strained look passed over her face for a second and then there was a gasping breath from the technically dead man on the drawer.
Jack, Owen and Tosh all startled back another step; they hadn’t really expected it to work.
“What’s going on?” Brian whimpered, his eyes snapping open. “I don’t… I…” He started to hyperventilate and then stopped breathing completely, eyes becoming fixed again beneath his still-open eyelids.
Owen reached over and put his fingers against the pulse point in his neck. “He’s gone again,” he said, lifting his hand to brush Brian’s eyes closed.
“It worked!” Suzie said, the excitement clear in her voice even though she spoke quietly. “It actually worked!”
“For about… ten seconds,” Toshiko qualified.
“But it worked,” Suzie repeated, her eyes wide. “I was right; the bodies in the vaults had just been gone for too long. Although, I wonder if cause of death makes a big difference…” She looked down at the glove and then up at Tosh. “What are the other… options… for deaths today?”
Tosh tapped a few more times on her PDA and brought up a list. “Cancer, liver failure, another heart attack, RTC, influenza…”
“RTC?” Suzie interrupted. “What sort of injuries?”
“From the records, it would appear that the steering column went through the chest. He died pretty quickly.”
“Which drawer?”
Tosh bit her lip. “Seventeen.”
Suzie took the few steps towards the new door, marked plainly with the numerals ‘17’, while Owen covered Brian Davies once more, took a breath, and shut him back into his drawer.
The occupant of drawer seventeen was a young man, his torso crushed and mutilated when they pulled back the sheet.
Tosh looked down at her watch when Suzie put her gloved hand on the top of his head rather than watch the process too carefully.
Unlike Brian, the young man didn’t awake quietly; his scream actually made the team worry that someone might hear and come running to see what was going on.
“What’s happening? Where am I? Who are you?” The young man started hyperventilating almost as soon as he stopped screaming and, thirty seconds later, suddenly stopped as the life left his body.
Tosh looked up from her watch as Owen moved in to rewrap. “Nearly forty-five seconds. Significantly longer than the previous attempt.”
Suzie nodded. “So, either we need younger victims, or a more traumatic death.”
Chapter Thirteen
Comments and concrit are loved! (And might help me get going on the sequel to this!)
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: budding Jack/Ianto, references to past Ianto/Lisa
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: If I was the one who owned Torchwood, you think I'd admit it now?
Spoilers: Some information and events from s1,2. NONE for s3.
Summary: In the aftermath of Lisa's death, Ianto is struggling to cope - and new surprises don't help matters much. Can his friends on the team at Torchwood help him carry on?
Author's Note: Sequel to Guilt.
Thanks to: My lovely beta cazmalfoy, angelzbabe1989 for idea bouncing, and morbid_sparks for cheerleading even when she doesn't know what happens.
Previous chapters at master list
Chapter Twelve
Jack followed Tosh, Owen and Suzie into the hospital morgue uncomfortably. Ever since the first time he’d woken up in one - almost a century before - he’d disliked morgues. The vaults at Torchwood were just dissimilar enough that they didn’t give him a shiver down his spine whenever he went down there.
This late in the evening, the room was darkened and all but abandoned. The junior pathologist, who was nominally in charge of the place for the night, was nowhere to be seen. Although they were keeping an eye out, just in case he reappeared.
Jack set his shoulders and resolutely pushed his discomfort away.
“Right, so where do we start?” he asked as Suzie set the case she was carrying on the floor and opened it, pulling out the metal glove.
“Doesn’t really matter, I don’t think,” Suzie replied, her gaze fixed on the glove. “Pick one at random.”
Jack took a deep breath and pointed at a drawer, looking to Tosh - who had hacked into the hospital system on their way in - for the details of its occupant.
“Brian Davies, 47,” she said, tapping at her PDA. “Heart attack, this afternoon.”
“So not long ago, then,” Suzie said, slipping the glove onto her hand. “That’s good.”
Owen grabbed the handle and opened the relevant door, sliding the drawer out carefully.
He pulled the sheet the man was wrapped in back from his face, closing his eyes for a moment as he contemplated what they were about to attempt. He unwrapped a little more, thinking that if it worked, there was no use panicking the man any more than they had to; he didn’t need to find himself wrapped tightly in a sheet.
The rest of them all took a step back, unsure what they should expect, as Suzie stepped forward, the glove on her hand.
“If this works,” Tosh suddenly started, “what do we say to him?” The others all looked at her. “Well, we can’t just bring him back from the dead - however temporarily it might turn out to be - and then stand and stare at him in silence. We have to say something.”
“I think we might be a little busy with getting him not to panic to have any sort of meaningful conversation, Tosh,” Owen said wryly.
Jack nodded. “He has a point.”
Suzie stepped closer and rested her gloved hand on the man’s head. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath; an oddly strained look passed over her face for a second and then there was a gasping breath from the technically dead man on the drawer.
Jack, Owen and Tosh all startled back another step; they hadn’t really expected it to work.
“What’s going on?” Brian whimpered, his eyes snapping open. “I don’t… I…” He started to hyperventilate and then stopped breathing completely, eyes becoming fixed again beneath his still-open eyelids.
Owen reached over and put his fingers against the pulse point in his neck. “He’s gone again,” he said, lifting his hand to brush Brian’s eyes closed.
“It worked!” Suzie said, the excitement clear in her voice even though she spoke quietly. “It actually worked!”
“For about… ten seconds,” Toshiko qualified.
“But it worked,” Suzie repeated, her eyes wide. “I was right; the bodies in the vaults had just been gone for too long. Although, I wonder if cause of death makes a big difference…” She looked down at the glove and then up at Tosh. “What are the other… options… for deaths today?”
Tosh tapped a few more times on her PDA and brought up a list. “Cancer, liver failure, another heart attack, RTC, influenza…”
“RTC?” Suzie interrupted. “What sort of injuries?”
“From the records, it would appear that the steering column went through the chest. He died pretty quickly.”
“Which drawer?”
Tosh bit her lip. “Seventeen.”
Suzie took the few steps towards the new door, marked plainly with the numerals ‘17’, while Owen covered Brian Davies once more, took a breath, and shut him back into his drawer.
The occupant of drawer seventeen was a young man, his torso crushed and mutilated when they pulled back the sheet.
Tosh looked down at her watch when Suzie put her gloved hand on the top of his head rather than watch the process too carefully.
Unlike Brian, the young man didn’t awake quietly; his scream actually made the team worry that someone might hear and come running to see what was going on.
“What’s happening? Where am I? Who are you?” The young man started hyperventilating almost as soon as he stopped screaming and, thirty seconds later, suddenly stopped as the life left his body.
Tosh looked up from her watch as Owen moved in to rewrap. “Nearly forty-five seconds. Significantly longer than the previous attempt.”
Suzie nodded. “So, either we need younger victims, or a more traumatic death.”
Chapter Thirteen
Comments and concrit are loved! (And might help me get going on the sequel to this!)