Pomegranate Seeds
Fandom: Torchwood (surprisingly)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5640
Summary: A strange appearance leads to an abrupt disappearance, and the team discover that there's always at least a grain of truth in legends...
Prompt: Jantolution Challenge #4, Prompts: Hurt/Comfort, Beltane
Pomegranate Seeds
Jack was frowning at his computer when Ianto brought him his first coffee of the morning. He waved Ianto over, saying, “Look at this,” and gesturing to the picture on his screen. It was a satellite photograph, of a patch of ground in the middle of nowhere, with nothing except a perfect circle of dry-stone wall breaking up the monotonous, patchy grass.
“A sheepfold,” Ianto said flatly, then glanced at Jack’s frown and explained, “A pen. For sheep. Farmers have been using them for hundreds of years, sir.”
“There’s no sheep round there,” Jack told him. “And look.”
He brought up another satellite picture, this one of empty ground, and said, “That’s the same spot, three days ago. No sheepfold.”
Ianto looked back at Jack, and said gently, “Maybe you should go and lie down. I’ll get Tosh to do a scan of Cardiff to find some alien tech, and come and fetch you when we’ve got something to do.”
Jack let him finish before grinning at him and saying, “Touching though your concern is, we already have something to do. Get the SUV ready, and tell the others we’re going out.”
“They already know,” Ianto reminded him, “and Owen can’t stand it.”
“Oh, you know what I meant,” Jack said, grinning, and Ianto smiled, and went to do as he was told.
~*~
They were on the road within the hour. It took Owen less than two minutes to start complaining that the whole thing was an utter waste of time. When they arrived, he refused to bother walking the two hundred yards to the sheepfold, instead sitting on the back bumper of the SUV, boot open, eating his sandwiches and waiting for the others to return.
Ianto couldn’t help thinking, as they got closer, that Owen might have the right idea. The sheepfold was clearly just a sheepfold, and from the looks of it, had been there for decades. It was covered in moss and lichens, and the stones in the walls were worn down by wind and rain. But the upright stones that lined the top were, incongruously, razor sharp. He frowned, remembering the satellite photography, which seemed to prove that the pen was brand new. He frowned deeper, and shook his head sharply, as they drew nearer to the sheepfold.
Tosh waved a scanner over the stones, reporting, “Nothing out of the ordinary,” while Jack glared at the pen and rubbed at the back of his head (it seemed he, like Ianto, was beginning to get a bit of a headache), and Gwen started walking around the structure, occasionally reaching out to touch the stones. Ianto watched her for a moment, thinking, Three days or less? Can’t be. Thirty years at least. But the satellite photos proved it, it can’t - and suddenly feeling sick and dizzy. His head ached abominably, and he turned away from the sheepfold, trying to take deep breaths and make the world stop spinning.
Gwen yelped suddenly, and he turned back to find that she’d cut a finger on one of the sharp stones, now sucking the cut and looking sheepish. Jack pulled her hand from her mouth and had a look at the cut, then told her firmly, “Go and see Owen. At least get a plaster on it.”
She nodded, and walked away obediently, as Jack went closer to the sheepfold, asking Tosh, “Still nothing?”
“No,” she said impatiently. “It’s been here for years without doing anything strange, why should it start now?”
Jack frowned darkly, almost swaying on his feet as he glared at the stones, and Ianto felt another wave of nausea and pain sweep through him. He forced himself to look at Tosh’s scanner over her shoulder, finding it difficult to focus on the screen, while Jack steadied himself with a hand on the wall.
The readings on the scanner were all over the place, but for a few moments Ianto calmly accepted them as normal. Then, suddenly, just for a moment, he saw them for what they really were.
“Jack?” he called, and Jack jumped, then swore as he caught his hand on the stone and slit his palm open.
“Christ, that’s like obsidian,” he muttered, heading over to them and licking the blood from the cut. “What have you got?”
Ianto pointed at the scanner, while Tosh said, “Nothing. It’s just normal. What am I meant to be looking at?”
Jack took one look at the screen and straightened up sharply, saying, “That’s not good.”
“What’s the matter?” Tosh asked them. “I didn’t see anything. What are you - Gwen?”
Jack whirled around and leaped to catch Gwen as she wandered dreamily past them, about to enter the sheepfold. As Jack pulled her back to the group, she said distractedly, “I just want to see the other side…”
“Bad idea,” Jack told her. “Nobody goes in there, okay? Let’s get you back to the SUV.”
He ushered her ahead of them, and Ianto and Tosh had to keep turning her towards the SUV as they walked, since she kept drifting in circles and trying to go back to the sheepfold.
“Jack, what’s going on?” Ianto asked eventually, and then looked around when he got no answer. Jack was almost back at the sheepfold, and walking dreamily onwards in the same way as Gwen. With a yell, Ianto abandoned Gwen and raced to catch Jack, leaving Tosh shouting for Owen to help her. He caught up with Jack just in time, grabbing the back of his coat and digging his heels in, bringing them both to a halt only about a foot in front of the entrance.
“Jack, what are you doing?” he shouted, but got no reply. Blood dripped from Jack’s hand, and Ianto realised, “You both got cut by the stones. Jack, something’s trying to control you. You have to fight it! You’re meant to be stronger than Gwen, for God’s sake. Don’t do this!”
Jack didn’t seem to hear him. He lowered his arms and slipped out of the coat, making Ianto stumble backwards and then desperately try to grab at Jack again, missing as he stepped forwards and strolled straight through the gap in the circle. Ianto lunged after him, but Tosh, arriving suddenly, caught him and held him back with surprising strength, as Jack vanished.
She pulled him, unresisting, back to the SUV, still clutching Jack’s coat.
“What,” Owen asked flatly, with Gwen locked in the back of the SUV and absently pawing at the window in a vague attempt to get out, “precisely, is going on?”
Tosh glanced at Ianto, who was hugging Jack’s coat and looking back at the sheepfold miserably. She sighed.
“Jack vanished in the circle,” she told Owen. “He and Gwen both cut their hands - the stones must have infected them somehow, and the circle’s reeling them in. It seems to be some sort of transporter. Jack said nobody should go in, before he was taken.”
“We have to follow him,” Ianto said softly. “He’s defenceless.”
“He’s bloody immortal, Ianto,” Owen snapped. “He can take care of himself. We don’t even know what we’re dealing with.”
“What date is it today?” Tosh asked suddenly, taking another look at the scans from the stone circle. “It’s the first of May, isn’t it?”
Owen came to look at the scans as well, Tosh turning briefly to glance back at the sheepfold, then saying, “It’s Beltane.”
“What’s Beltane?” Owen asked, predictably.
“It’s like Samhain - Halloween,” Tosh told him. “It’s a festival that dates back thousands of years. People thought that the barriers between our world and the spirit world were weak at times like this. They had all sorts of rituals to do with it, and legends dealing with people who crossed over to the other side.”
He frowned at her for a moment, then asked, “How do you know all this?”
“Mary mentioned a few myths and legends,” Tosh shrugged, keeping her eyes on the scanner. “I thought I’d look into it. Jack says there’s usually a grain of truth somewhere in folklore.”
A little to her surprise, Owen made no comment about Mary, simply nodding and saying, “So you think this circle is… what? A gateway to another world?”
“Sort of,” Tosh agreed. “I think it’s possible that it’s a transporter, but it’s only here at certain times of year -”
“Beltane and Samhain.”
“It would explain why it didn’t show up on the satellite photography a few days ago,” she pointed out. “And if we’re right then the other side will be very dangerous. In Irish legends the spirits involved are nearly always malevolent. They just want human slaves.”
Owen pulled a face, and straightened up again, saying, “Fine. Tosh, you know most about this, so you’re coming with me. Ianto can stay here and look after Gwen.”
He was turning towards the boot of the SUV to fetch their guns before he realised that Ianto hadn’t challenged him. They both looked around, only to see Ianto already back at the stone circle. Ignoring their shouts over the comms, and wearing Jack’s coat rather than his own, he walked straight through the entrance.
~*~
Jack saw grass. Blinking, he raised his head and looked around, taking in the lush forest surrounding him, the bright sunlight shining down on him where he stood, in an open glade, and the sound of running water somewhere near. He still felt a little dizzy, and raised one hand to his head. The other went with it, and he paused to examine the strips of green silk that bound his wrists together. A similar strip was bound around the cut on his hand.
He turned around, and saw nobody anywhere near him. With a frown, he checked for his gun, his wrist computer and his headset - all were missing. That decided him. He set about wriggling out of the silk, occasionally using his teeth to pull at the knots and try to gain some slack.
There was no warning before someone smacked the back of his head. He bit his tongue and couldn’t help a muffled yelp of pain, even as the stranger grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, snapping at him in a language he couldn’t quite follow. It was clear enough that he wasn’t meant to try and break free, though, and when he was released he rubbed the back of his head sulkily and watched the almost-human figure go back to the edge of the glade and collect the bucket of water he’d been carrying.
While his captor’s back was turned, Jack sidled to the near edge of the glade, away from the sound of the stream. He was about to make a run for it when another of the people stepped out of the trees right beside him, and calmly grabbed his arm and dragged him back.
Rolling his eyes, Jack was on the point of making a witty remark when the first of the two took the bucket and tipped it upside down over him, reducing him to yelling, “Christ, that’s cold!” instead.
His captors said something to each other while he shivered and shook his head sharply to get as much water as possible out of his hair - and his hair out of his eyes.
“If you wanted me to take a shower, you just had to say,” he muttered, and one of them smacked him round the head again.
“I’m not even allowed to talk?” he asked, and they both glared at him. “Come on guys - I’m assuming you’re both guys, anyway - help me out here. You speak English? No? Any Earth language? Unlikely, I guess. I’d try Welsh, considering where you picked me up, but my accent’s dreadful and Ianto would never forgive me for mangling his language like I would.”
The two exchanged glances and heaved sighs, then one of them undid a length of silk from around his waist and set about fastening it to Jack’s wrists, making a sort of lead.
“Any other time,” Jack told them, “and I really wouldn’t mind this, you know. Been tied up with worse, after all. But I’d kinda like to check back with my team right now. If I could remember the way back, I’d already be outta here. But you know how it is. You’re lost on a new planet, best thing to do is follow the locals. Could be anything out there, right?”
His captors stared at him for a moment or two, matching expressions of exasperation on their so-very-human faces. He glanced between the two of them, comparing. They were both taller than him, built more slightly as well, and both wearing grass-green silk in an odd sort of robe, belted at the waist. Their skin was the sort of tanned colour that rich white women back on Earth were willing to pay ridiculous amounts for, and their hair was jet black, matching their large eyes. The one who’d fixed the lead to his wrists was also wearing a sash with pockets, and Jack could see the shape of his gun in the silk.
With a sigh, he said, “Communicating would really be useful right now. Didn’t your mothers ever tell you it’s bad manners to turn up on a planet and kidnap people without even bothering to learn the language first?”
One tugged on his lead, and they both started walking, pulling him along behind them. He followed obediently, moving on to a range of other languages from the rest of the Galaxy. Nothing got a reaction, and his captors proceeded to ignore him, chatting to each other in their own language instead.
Jack let them lead him for five minutes or so, talking without paying attention to what he was saying and instead looking around. Nothing dangerous appeared to be lurking in the forest, especially taking into account the utter lack of caution with which his captors were proceeding. They also seemed to be travelling in a straight line, though he was having no luck working out where they’d been to begin with. However, it did bring one thought to mind.
Reverting back to English, watching both his captors carefully, he said, “Everybody always makes the same mistake. They take the quickest route from the kidnapping to the delivery. You know what the quickest route is, guys? A straight line. A to B. So it stands to reason that if I go the other way along that line, I’ll get back to the start sooner or later. You want to talk me out of trying? No? Last chance. Well, okay. You forced me…”
He pulled suddenly on the lead, yanking one of his captors off balance, and lashed out in a kick at the other. They were quick to react, pulling back on his lead and trying to dodge his attack, but he still had a very slight advantage from their surprise, and managed to knock them both flying. He bolted back the way they’d come as soon as they’d let go of his lead, and didn’t quite make it a hundred yards before there was a flash and a bang ahead of him, and he ran straight into a solid stone wall that appeared out of nowhere.
Finding himself lying on the grass and looking up at the sky, he blinked, then winced and swore under his breath, head hurting miserably. When his captors reached him, and peered down at him, looking amused, he sighed and held up his bound hands for them to grab the lead. The two aliens dragged him back to his feet, ignoring his groan of pain, smacked him round the head for a third time, and set off again, complaining loudly at him in their language and not looking the least bit impressed when he muttered, “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” and set about telling them precisely what he thought of them.
It may not have helped his situation, but it did make him feel better.
~*~
The transition was barely noticeable. All that happened, as far as Ianto could see, was that a section of the stone wall in front of him shimmered and vanished to create another exit - and when he glanced back, the wall was sealed behind him. Tosh and Owen’s voices were cut off sharply, letting him know he’d passed beyond comm range, but only for them. Jack might still be close enough, regardless of whether they were still on Earth or not: the alien systems Tosh had patched into their individual comms made satellite contact unnecessary. It had always pleased Jack to know that their signals were independent, and that they were less easily traced or intercepted as a result.
In fact, the only trouble with trying to contact Jack at the moment was that he might still be under alien influence.
Sighing, Ianto headed out into the unknown.
The grass was greener on this side, and it took him no time at all to find Jack’s trail - Jack’s hand had still been bleeding when he’d gone through the circle, and he’d walked twenty paces leaving drops of blood in a line on the grass until there was a flattened patch, grass stems crushed under more than one pair of feet. Ianto crouched there for a moment or two, Jack’s coat spread around him, and considered. It seemed that someone (possibly more than one someone - he wasn’t quite able to tell) had met Jack on this side of the transporter. That implied he’d been expected, which was a little worrying.
There was nothing he could do about that now, though, so he looked around the area to pick up Jack’s trail again (there was no more blood, and he hoped that meant someone had treated the cut and bound it up, rather than anything else) and went on.
He could see a small forest ahead of him, and that seemed the most logical way for the strangers to have gone, so that was where he headed. As he drew nearer, he found he could hear the sound of a stream, and see bushes on the edge of the trees, weighed down with fruit he didn’t recognise. There was some sort of birdsong - not quite right somehow, too loud or too harmonious, like an orchestrated symphony rather than the mess of calling he was familiar with - and as he reached the trees he heard the crash of leaping deer further in, and found some tracks in the mud nearby. But that was all wrong. The animals were all far too calm, and the produce of the forest was practically untouched. It was as if nothing here ate anything else. No predators for the birds and the beasts to fear, nothing to eat the berries and fruits even though he could hear them nearby.
Unsettled, he headed further in, and found more traces of Jack and his captors in a clearing not far from the stream. Again, there were patches of flattened grass, but there was also a damp area, which puzzled him for a moment. What was going on?
It was easy enough to follow the trail from then on, as the trees grew thinner and a clear path began to emerge. At one point there were some bizarre scuff marks in the dirt, which Ianto hoped were proof of Jack breaking free of whatever control he’d been subjected to, and putting up a fight. He went on further, grabbing a stick for a weapon (wishing he’d stopped to fetch his gun) and getting more nervous when he left the forest and the view ahead was obscured by a few small hills. The trail led between a couple of them, and he edged forward more and more cautiously, expecting guards to spring out at him at any moment.
He wasn’t expecting to find a medieval village around the corner.
~*~
Jack was still working his way through his wide and varied array of insults when they’d arrived at the village. There had been two dozen or more men at work on various tasks in front of the houses, but they’d stopped doing whatever they’d been up to (barrel making, woodcarving, and other such pursuits, as far as he could tell) and stared at Jack and his captors. For a few seconds there was absolute silence, aside from Jack’s continuing litany of slurs and abuse (he was on a string of traditional twentieth century insults at the moment), and he nodded and smiled to the villagers, midway through saying, “You couldn’t find your ass with both hands and your brains’d fit in your little toe if you could remember where you’d put them.”
There was a great shout of laughter from a few of the bystanders, and then, as Jack carried on loudly insulting the aliens, swinging back to some of his more inventive phrases, they spread what he was saying, in whispers, to the others who seemed confused. Before long they were all roaring with laughter, and Jack’s captors yanked him forward impatiently, practically hurling him at the amused villagers and storming off to one side to snatch some food and drink from a solid wooden table.
While they lounged about and muttered to each other in their own language, the villagers swarmed around Jack, and one was quick to untie his hands, rolling up the silk to keep.
“You’re lucky they don’t speak English,” he told Jack, smiling broadly.
Jack grinned back at him, recognising a Welsh accent when he heard one, and said, “I tried just about every language I could think of, but they didn’t respond to anything.”
“Well they learnt Welsh from us,” the man told him unexpectedly, “but I don’t know that they ever heard anyone speaking English. We use Welsh because of the older fellers.”
“And that’s the one language I didn’t try,” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes.
“You wouldn’t have got much out of them even if you had,” the man assured him. “You come and have a look around, and I’ll introduce you to everyone. Don’t worry about remembering names. You’ll have plenty of time to learn them later.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jack said, “Well, you managed to make that sound ominous enough.”
“You’re here for life, my friend,” the man said, patting his shoulder, still sodden from his dousing earlier. “You’ve been baptised into the colony.”
“Great,” Jack said flatly, and tried to pay attention as the man started reeling off people’s names, and hands were shoved forward for him to shake.
He discovered over the course of the next ten minutes that nearly all of the villagers were Welsh, and that (somewhat to his surprise) none of them had been here any longer than ten years. This was a startling revelation, particularly since it came hot on the heels of his introduction to a Druid who had been drawn through the circle some years before the first Roman invasion of Britain. The more recent additions to the colony were quick to explain that time seemed to go slower in this place when the stone circle wasn’t open. They also told him that theirs wasn’t the only village around, though the others were of different nationalities (they mentioned Irish and French specifically) and seemed to be linked to different stone circles. And they reluctantly told Jack that there had been many escape attempts before, but there was some sort of barrier blocking the entrance to the circle, and none of them could pass through.
“You got stuck on a one way trip,” he was informed. “But you’ll get used to it here. It’s not that bad, really.”
“I’ve got too much I have to get back to,” Jack said in return. “I’ll try heading back for myself, if you don’t mind.”
They shrugged and began to go back to their work, leaving Jack with Glyn, the most recent arrival apart from himself. Glyn smiled tolerantly at him, saying, “It won’t work, you know. You may as well just settle down and try to enjoy life here. The circle will close in an hour or so anyway.”
Jack looked at him sharply, asking, “You mean I have an hour to get out before I’m trapped here?”
“You’re already trapped,” Glyn said, glancing at the two aliens, who appeared to have finished eating and were about to move on, without Jack. “They’ll never let you leave.”
The aliens paused to take a good look at the village, then walked away. Glyn led Jack over to the table, saying, “Here. You should eat something,” but Jack wasn’t interested in the food. Instead he picked up the sash one of his captors had been wearing, and had a look in the pockets.
“They left everything,” he said, a little confused, and Glyn shrugged.
“They don’t need your technology. What have you got? Anything that might be useful round here?”
Shaking his head, Jack put the sash on, and said, “Sorry. I’m taking it with me.”
Glyn didn’t even try to dissuade him, sitting on the table and pouring himself a cup of water, saying, “You’re welcome to try to leave, but you won’t succeed.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Jack said sarcastically.
Smiling tolerantly, Glyn sipped his water and said, “I’ll see you later. Enjoy the walk.”
Jack just snorted, and turned away. As he was heading back to the hills, he was surprised to see a single figure approaching the village. It took him a moment longer than it should have done to recognise him (the coat threw him for a second) and then he couldn’t help laughing and running to meet Ianto in the open ground.
When he reached Ianto and hurled his arms around him, Ianto hugged him back briefly, then pulled away saying, “You’re soaking wet, Jack. What happened?”
“That’s not the most important thing at the moment,” Jack told him, unable to help grinning. “We have to get back to the circle, quickly.”
Ianto didn’t argue, simply turning and walking back the way he’d come. Jack kept up with him, explaining everything that had happened as they went, and warning Ianto of the villagers’ certainty that they wouldn’t be able to return through the stone circle.
Their journey went unnoticed - or unopposed, at least - while Jack outlined his theory that the villagers were only taken to be farmers, and kept the alien race fed and watered, and free to pursue other areas of interest, be it science or leisure. It wasn’t the most efficient way of life, but the numbers of humans being taken had dwindled to a bare minimum already, and most of those who still remained in the villages would be hopelessly out of place if they returned to modern Earth. The fact that they didn’t seem willing or able to leave the planet was almost irrelevant.
Ianto quietly agreed with almost all of Jack’s suggestions, paying more attention to the countryside around them than to the conversation, still anxious in case anyone tried to stop them from leaving. They saw no-one, even when they arrived back at the circle after a little more than half an hour’s walk.
“You first,” Ianto told Jack firmly, and Jack smiled at him, then strolled through the entrance.
And stopped dead before he’d got past the stones. He struggled to move forward any further, then had to step back, breathing hard.
“Shit,” he said simply.
Ianto bit his lip, and cautiously tried walking through himself. He got further than Jack, then paused and stretched out his hand. There was no barrier.
Looking back at Jack, he said, “I don’t seem to have any trouble. They didn’t tag you somehow, did they?”
Jack shook his head, frowning, and tried to think. Slowly, he said, “Unless they did something while I was out of it, I don’t know of anything that could stop me leaving.”
For a few moments, Ianto was silent, staring at the circle and touching one of the top stones thoughtfully. Then he glanced at Jack, and frowned. At last, he said slowly, “This is the Otherworld that turns up in Celtic legends. The Land of Youth, where time in the real world passes you by. Jack, did you eat anything while you were here?”
“No,” Jack said, looking confused. “Why -”
“You’re Persephone, Jack,” Ianto told him. “If you ate or drank anything you won’t be able to get through the barrier. That’s why it doesn’t work on me.”
“But I didn’t,” Jack said. “I didn’t touch anything.”
Ianto looked back between the circle and Jack again, then put his hands on his hips and said firmly, “Strip.”
Jack blinked, then couldn’t help grinning, saying, “Much as I love it when you give me orders like that, I’m not seeing the point…”
“They threw a bucket of water over you,” Ianto said patiently. “Your clothes are full of it, and if I’m right then the barrier won’t let you through if you’ve got anything from this world with you.”
Jack stared at him for a moment, then took off the sash with his belongings in, and handed it to Ianto, saying, “I really hope you’re right,” as he started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Ianto put the sash aside and took off Jack’s coat, handing it to him when Jack had finished undressing. While Jack shrugged that on and buttoned it, Ianto went through the sash and transferred Jack’s headset to his pocket, his wrist computer to his own arm, and the gun, still in its holster, to his hip. Then he looked back at Jack, and reached out to take hold of his hand. The cut had been bound in green silk, now stained by blood.
“This might hurt,” he warned Jack, undoing the knot, and then pulled the silk from the cut. Jack flinched but didn’t make a sound, even though the gash was ripped open and started bleeding again.
“Sorry,” Ianto murmured, digging in his pocket for a clean handkerchief and tying it around Jack’s hand instead.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Jack said quietly, and Ianto gestured for him to go first through the circle again.
A little nervously, Jack stepped through the entrance, and then took another two steps. He paused, glancing back at Ianto and saying, “I think I can make it, but it hurts. It’s… burning. It gets worse the further I go.”
Ianto nodded, slowly, and said, “In that case, I’m really sorry about this.”
Before Jack could ask him what he meant, Ianto strode forward and grabbed Jack around the waist, hauling him into the middle of the circle and doing his best to ignore Jack’s sudden scream of agony. The circle shimmered and fell open in front of them, and Ianto dragged Jack through the gap. Jack was clinging to him and stumbling, breathing harshly but just managing to walk, with help. When Ianto looked up, he saw the others running towards them.
Owen was all set to start yelling at Ianto the second he got close enough, but Ianto headed him off quickly, saying, “Jack’s hurt. And the circle’s going to -”
At Tosh’s gasp he glanced back, in time to see the circle shimmer and vanish.
“- disappear,” he finished quietly, and Owen wordlessly came to help him support Jack back to the SUV.
“Why’s Jack barefoot?” Tosh asked as they helped him over the grass.
Jack coughed out a laugh, and told them, “I’ll let Ianto try and explain that.”
~*~
When they made it back to the Hub, they sent Gwen home while Tosh made a note of the incident and logged the readings she’d taken from the sheepfold, for future reference. Owen made a start on patching up the grazes and lacerations Jack had picked up in the transfer back to Earth. The only cause for them that Ianto could think of was that there had still been water on Jack’s skin when they’d re-entered the circle, and he was subsequently wracked with guilt for forcing Jack through the barrier. Jack, later, told him quietly that it didn’t matter, considering how close their escape had been. It didn’t help his conscience much.
After dealing with a few of the worse injuries, Owen got sick of Jack’s complaints, and left him to Ianto’s tender ministrations. And so the day eventually rounded off with the two of them alone in the Hub, and Jack lying flat on his back on his bed, wincing whenever Ianto tried to clean his lacerated chest.
“I’m fine, Ianto,” he protested eventually. “Perfectly - ow - fine. Honest.”
“Owen said to make sure your wounds were clean,” Ianto told him firmly. “I caused them, so I’ll do what I can to get them healed as fast as possible.”
Jack sighed, and covered his eyes with one hand, saying, “You didn’t cause them. You saved me, Ianto. I wouldn’t have figured out that the water was keeping me there.”
“You would have done,” Ianto disagreed, carefully sticking a patch over the grazes he’d just cleaned.
“Not quick enough,” Jack said, and raised his hand from his eyes to watch as Ianto moved away to get a fresh bowl of water and rinse the cloth out.
“You know this isn’t fair,” he called, and Ianto asked, “What isn’t?” as he returned.
“Well,” Jack explained, with a very faint smile, “whenever I get hurt, you get to see me with my shirt off. And you had me strip earlier, too.”
Ianto paused, then said, “There was a good reason for that.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jack asked, “Do I need to give you a list? Come on, humour a wounded man here. More Ianto, less shirt.”
Ianto put the bowl of water carefully on the floor out of the way, and, going back over to Jack, told him, “You know you only have to ask.”
And obliged.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 5640
Summary: A strange appearance leads to an abrupt disappearance, and the team discover that there's always at least a grain of truth in legends...
Prompt: Jantolution Challenge #4, Prompts: Hurt/Comfort, Beltane
Pomegranate Seeds
Jack was frowning at his computer when Ianto brought him his first coffee of the morning. He waved Ianto over, saying, “Look at this,” and gesturing to the picture on his screen. It was a satellite photograph, of a patch of ground in the middle of nowhere, with nothing except a perfect circle of dry-stone wall breaking up the monotonous, patchy grass.
“A sheepfold,” Ianto said flatly, then glanced at Jack’s frown and explained, “A pen. For sheep. Farmers have been using them for hundreds of years, sir.”
“There’s no sheep round there,” Jack told him. “And look.”
He brought up another satellite picture, this one of empty ground, and said, “That’s the same spot, three days ago. No sheepfold.”
Ianto looked back at Jack, and said gently, “Maybe you should go and lie down. I’ll get Tosh to do a scan of Cardiff to find some alien tech, and come and fetch you when we’ve got something to do.”
Jack let him finish before grinning at him and saying, “Touching though your concern is, we already have something to do. Get the SUV ready, and tell the others we’re going out.”
“They already know,” Ianto reminded him, “and Owen can’t stand it.”
“Oh, you know what I meant,” Jack said, grinning, and Ianto smiled, and went to do as he was told.
~*~
They were on the road within the hour. It took Owen less than two minutes to start complaining that the whole thing was an utter waste of time. When they arrived, he refused to bother walking the two hundred yards to the sheepfold, instead sitting on the back bumper of the SUV, boot open, eating his sandwiches and waiting for the others to return.
Ianto couldn’t help thinking, as they got closer, that Owen might have the right idea. The sheepfold was clearly just a sheepfold, and from the looks of it, had been there for decades. It was covered in moss and lichens, and the stones in the walls were worn down by wind and rain. But the upright stones that lined the top were, incongruously, razor sharp. He frowned, remembering the satellite photography, which seemed to prove that the pen was brand new. He frowned deeper, and shook his head sharply, as they drew nearer to the sheepfold.
Tosh waved a scanner over the stones, reporting, “Nothing out of the ordinary,” while Jack glared at the pen and rubbed at the back of his head (it seemed he, like Ianto, was beginning to get a bit of a headache), and Gwen started walking around the structure, occasionally reaching out to touch the stones. Ianto watched her for a moment, thinking, Three days or less? Can’t be. Thirty years at least. But the satellite photos proved it, it can’t - and suddenly feeling sick and dizzy. His head ached abominably, and he turned away from the sheepfold, trying to take deep breaths and make the world stop spinning.
Gwen yelped suddenly, and he turned back to find that she’d cut a finger on one of the sharp stones, now sucking the cut and looking sheepish. Jack pulled her hand from her mouth and had a look at the cut, then told her firmly, “Go and see Owen. At least get a plaster on it.”
She nodded, and walked away obediently, as Jack went closer to the sheepfold, asking Tosh, “Still nothing?”
“No,” she said impatiently. “It’s been here for years without doing anything strange, why should it start now?”
Jack frowned darkly, almost swaying on his feet as he glared at the stones, and Ianto felt another wave of nausea and pain sweep through him. He forced himself to look at Tosh’s scanner over her shoulder, finding it difficult to focus on the screen, while Jack steadied himself with a hand on the wall.
The readings on the scanner were all over the place, but for a few moments Ianto calmly accepted them as normal. Then, suddenly, just for a moment, he saw them for what they really were.
“Jack?” he called, and Jack jumped, then swore as he caught his hand on the stone and slit his palm open.
“Christ, that’s like obsidian,” he muttered, heading over to them and licking the blood from the cut. “What have you got?”
Ianto pointed at the scanner, while Tosh said, “Nothing. It’s just normal. What am I meant to be looking at?”
Jack took one look at the screen and straightened up sharply, saying, “That’s not good.”
“What’s the matter?” Tosh asked them. “I didn’t see anything. What are you - Gwen?”
Jack whirled around and leaped to catch Gwen as she wandered dreamily past them, about to enter the sheepfold. As Jack pulled her back to the group, she said distractedly, “I just want to see the other side…”
“Bad idea,” Jack told her. “Nobody goes in there, okay? Let’s get you back to the SUV.”
He ushered her ahead of them, and Ianto and Tosh had to keep turning her towards the SUV as they walked, since she kept drifting in circles and trying to go back to the sheepfold.
“Jack, what’s going on?” Ianto asked eventually, and then looked around when he got no answer. Jack was almost back at the sheepfold, and walking dreamily onwards in the same way as Gwen. With a yell, Ianto abandoned Gwen and raced to catch Jack, leaving Tosh shouting for Owen to help her. He caught up with Jack just in time, grabbing the back of his coat and digging his heels in, bringing them both to a halt only about a foot in front of the entrance.
“Jack, what are you doing?” he shouted, but got no reply. Blood dripped from Jack’s hand, and Ianto realised, “You both got cut by the stones. Jack, something’s trying to control you. You have to fight it! You’re meant to be stronger than Gwen, for God’s sake. Don’t do this!”
Jack didn’t seem to hear him. He lowered his arms and slipped out of the coat, making Ianto stumble backwards and then desperately try to grab at Jack again, missing as he stepped forwards and strolled straight through the gap in the circle. Ianto lunged after him, but Tosh, arriving suddenly, caught him and held him back with surprising strength, as Jack vanished.
She pulled him, unresisting, back to the SUV, still clutching Jack’s coat.
“What,” Owen asked flatly, with Gwen locked in the back of the SUV and absently pawing at the window in a vague attempt to get out, “precisely, is going on?”
Tosh glanced at Ianto, who was hugging Jack’s coat and looking back at the sheepfold miserably. She sighed.
“Jack vanished in the circle,” she told Owen. “He and Gwen both cut their hands - the stones must have infected them somehow, and the circle’s reeling them in. It seems to be some sort of transporter. Jack said nobody should go in, before he was taken.”
“We have to follow him,” Ianto said softly. “He’s defenceless.”
“He’s bloody immortal, Ianto,” Owen snapped. “He can take care of himself. We don’t even know what we’re dealing with.”
“What date is it today?” Tosh asked suddenly, taking another look at the scans from the stone circle. “It’s the first of May, isn’t it?”
Owen came to look at the scans as well, Tosh turning briefly to glance back at the sheepfold, then saying, “It’s Beltane.”
“What’s Beltane?” Owen asked, predictably.
“It’s like Samhain - Halloween,” Tosh told him. “It’s a festival that dates back thousands of years. People thought that the barriers between our world and the spirit world were weak at times like this. They had all sorts of rituals to do with it, and legends dealing with people who crossed over to the other side.”
He frowned at her for a moment, then asked, “How do you know all this?”
“Mary mentioned a few myths and legends,” Tosh shrugged, keeping her eyes on the scanner. “I thought I’d look into it. Jack says there’s usually a grain of truth somewhere in folklore.”
A little to her surprise, Owen made no comment about Mary, simply nodding and saying, “So you think this circle is… what? A gateway to another world?”
“Sort of,” Tosh agreed. “I think it’s possible that it’s a transporter, but it’s only here at certain times of year -”
“Beltane and Samhain.”
“It would explain why it didn’t show up on the satellite photography a few days ago,” she pointed out. “And if we’re right then the other side will be very dangerous. In Irish legends the spirits involved are nearly always malevolent. They just want human slaves.”
Owen pulled a face, and straightened up again, saying, “Fine. Tosh, you know most about this, so you’re coming with me. Ianto can stay here and look after Gwen.”
He was turning towards the boot of the SUV to fetch their guns before he realised that Ianto hadn’t challenged him. They both looked around, only to see Ianto already back at the stone circle. Ignoring their shouts over the comms, and wearing Jack’s coat rather than his own, he walked straight through the entrance.
~*~
Jack saw grass. Blinking, he raised his head and looked around, taking in the lush forest surrounding him, the bright sunlight shining down on him where he stood, in an open glade, and the sound of running water somewhere near. He still felt a little dizzy, and raised one hand to his head. The other went with it, and he paused to examine the strips of green silk that bound his wrists together. A similar strip was bound around the cut on his hand.
He turned around, and saw nobody anywhere near him. With a frown, he checked for his gun, his wrist computer and his headset - all were missing. That decided him. He set about wriggling out of the silk, occasionally using his teeth to pull at the knots and try to gain some slack.
There was no warning before someone smacked the back of his head. He bit his tongue and couldn’t help a muffled yelp of pain, even as the stranger grabbed his hair and pulled his head back, snapping at him in a language he couldn’t quite follow. It was clear enough that he wasn’t meant to try and break free, though, and when he was released he rubbed the back of his head sulkily and watched the almost-human figure go back to the edge of the glade and collect the bucket of water he’d been carrying.
While his captor’s back was turned, Jack sidled to the near edge of the glade, away from the sound of the stream. He was about to make a run for it when another of the people stepped out of the trees right beside him, and calmly grabbed his arm and dragged him back.
Rolling his eyes, Jack was on the point of making a witty remark when the first of the two took the bucket and tipped it upside down over him, reducing him to yelling, “Christ, that’s cold!” instead.
His captors said something to each other while he shivered and shook his head sharply to get as much water as possible out of his hair - and his hair out of his eyes.
“If you wanted me to take a shower, you just had to say,” he muttered, and one of them smacked him round the head again.
“I’m not even allowed to talk?” he asked, and they both glared at him. “Come on guys - I’m assuming you’re both guys, anyway - help me out here. You speak English? No? Any Earth language? Unlikely, I guess. I’d try Welsh, considering where you picked me up, but my accent’s dreadful and Ianto would never forgive me for mangling his language like I would.”
The two exchanged glances and heaved sighs, then one of them undid a length of silk from around his waist and set about fastening it to Jack’s wrists, making a sort of lead.
“Any other time,” Jack told them, “and I really wouldn’t mind this, you know. Been tied up with worse, after all. But I’d kinda like to check back with my team right now. If I could remember the way back, I’d already be outta here. But you know how it is. You’re lost on a new planet, best thing to do is follow the locals. Could be anything out there, right?”
His captors stared at him for a moment or two, matching expressions of exasperation on their so-very-human faces. He glanced between the two of them, comparing. They were both taller than him, built more slightly as well, and both wearing grass-green silk in an odd sort of robe, belted at the waist. Their skin was the sort of tanned colour that rich white women back on Earth were willing to pay ridiculous amounts for, and their hair was jet black, matching their large eyes. The one who’d fixed the lead to his wrists was also wearing a sash with pockets, and Jack could see the shape of his gun in the silk.
With a sigh, he said, “Communicating would really be useful right now. Didn’t your mothers ever tell you it’s bad manners to turn up on a planet and kidnap people without even bothering to learn the language first?”
One tugged on his lead, and they both started walking, pulling him along behind them. He followed obediently, moving on to a range of other languages from the rest of the Galaxy. Nothing got a reaction, and his captors proceeded to ignore him, chatting to each other in their own language instead.
Jack let them lead him for five minutes or so, talking without paying attention to what he was saying and instead looking around. Nothing dangerous appeared to be lurking in the forest, especially taking into account the utter lack of caution with which his captors were proceeding. They also seemed to be travelling in a straight line, though he was having no luck working out where they’d been to begin with. However, it did bring one thought to mind.
Reverting back to English, watching both his captors carefully, he said, “Everybody always makes the same mistake. They take the quickest route from the kidnapping to the delivery. You know what the quickest route is, guys? A straight line. A to B. So it stands to reason that if I go the other way along that line, I’ll get back to the start sooner or later. You want to talk me out of trying? No? Last chance. Well, okay. You forced me…”
He pulled suddenly on the lead, yanking one of his captors off balance, and lashed out in a kick at the other. They were quick to react, pulling back on his lead and trying to dodge his attack, but he still had a very slight advantage from their surprise, and managed to knock them both flying. He bolted back the way they’d come as soon as they’d let go of his lead, and didn’t quite make it a hundred yards before there was a flash and a bang ahead of him, and he ran straight into a solid stone wall that appeared out of nowhere.
Finding himself lying on the grass and looking up at the sky, he blinked, then winced and swore under his breath, head hurting miserably. When his captors reached him, and peered down at him, looking amused, he sighed and held up his bound hands for them to grab the lead. The two aliens dragged him back to his feet, ignoring his groan of pain, smacked him round the head for a third time, and set off again, complaining loudly at him in their language and not looking the least bit impressed when he muttered, “Can’t blame a guy for trying,” and set about telling them precisely what he thought of them.
It may not have helped his situation, but it did make him feel better.
~*~
The transition was barely noticeable. All that happened, as far as Ianto could see, was that a section of the stone wall in front of him shimmered and vanished to create another exit - and when he glanced back, the wall was sealed behind him. Tosh and Owen’s voices were cut off sharply, letting him know he’d passed beyond comm range, but only for them. Jack might still be close enough, regardless of whether they were still on Earth or not: the alien systems Tosh had patched into their individual comms made satellite contact unnecessary. It had always pleased Jack to know that their signals were independent, and that they were less easily traced or intercepted as a result.
In fact, the only trouble with trying to contact Jack at the moment was that he might still be under alien influence.
Sighing, Ianto headed out into the unknown.
The grass was greener on this side, and it took him no time at all to find Jack’s trail - Jack’s hand had still been bleeding when he’d gone through the circle, and he’d walked twenty paces leaving drops of blood in a line on the grass until there was a flattened patch, grass stems crushed under more than one pair of feet. Ianto crouched there for a moment or two, Jack’s coat spread around him, and considered. It seemed that someone (possibly more than one someone - he wasn’t quite able to tell) had met Jack on this side of the transporter. That implied he’d been expected, which was a little worrying.
There was nothing he could do about that now, though, so he looked around the area to pick up Jack’s trail again (there was no more blood, and he hoped that meant someone had treated the cut and bound it up, rather than anything else) and went on.
He could see a small forest ahead of him, and that seemed the most logical way for the strangers to have gone, so that was where he headed. As he drew nearer, he found he could hear the sound of a stream, and see bushes on the edge of the trees, weighed down with fruit he didn’t recognise. There was some sort of birdsong - not quite right somehow, too loud or too harmonious, like an orchestrated symphony rather than the mess of calling he was familiar with - and as he reached the trees he heard the crash of leaping deer further in, and found some tracks in the mud nearby. But that was all wrong. The animals were all far too calm, and the produce of the forest was practically untouched. It was as if nothing here ate anything else. No predators for the birds and the beasts to fear, nothing to eat the berries and fruits even though he could hear them nearby.
Unsettled, he headed further in, and found more traces of Jack and his captors in a clearing not far from the stream. Again, there were patches of flattened grass, but there was also a damp area, which puzzled him for a moment. What was going on?
It was easy enough to follow the trail from then on, as the trees grew thinner and a clear path began to emerge. At one point there were some bizarre scuff marks in the dirt, which Ianto hoped were proof of Jack breaking free of whatever control he’d been subjected to, and putting up a fight. He went on further, grabbing a stick for a weapon (wishing he’d stopped to fetch his gun) and getting more nervous when he left the forest and the view ahead was obscured by a few small hills. The trail led between a couple of them, and he edged forward more and more cautiously, expecting guards to spring out at him at any moment.
He wasn’t expecting to find a medieval village around the corner.
~*~
Jack was still working his way through his wide and varied array of insults when they’d arrived at the village. There had been two dozen or more men at work on various tasks in front of the houses, but they’d stopped doing whatever they’d been up to (barrel making, woodcarving, and other such pursuits, as far as he could tell) and stared at Jack and his captors. For a few seconds there was absolute silence, aside from Jack’s continuing litany of slurs and abuse (he was on a string of traditional twentieth century insults at the moment), and he nodded and smiled to the villagers, midway through saying, “You couldn’t find your ass with both hands and your brains’d fit in your little toe if you could remember where you’d put them.”
There was a great shout of laughter from a few of the bystanders, and then, as Jack carried on loudly insulting the aliens, swinging back to some of his more inventive phrases, they spread what he was saying, in whispers, to the others who seemed confused. Before long they were all roaring with laughter, and Jack’s captors yanked him forward impatiently, practically hurling him at the amused villagers and storming off to one side to snatch some food and drink from a solid wooden table.
While they lounged about and muttered to each other in their own language, the villagers swarmed around Jack, and one was quick to untie his hands, rolling up the silk to keep.
“You’re lucky they don’t speak English,” he told Jack, smiling broadly.
Jack grinned back at him, recognising a Welsh accent when he heard one, and said, “I tried just about every language I could think of, but they didn’t respond to anything.”
“Well they learnt Welsh from us,” the man told him unexpectedly, “but I don’t know that they ever heard anyone speaking English. We use Welsh because of the older fellers.”
“And that’s the one language I didn’t try,” Jack sighed, rolling his eyes.
“You wouldn’t have got much out of them even if you had,” the man assured him. “You come and have a look around, and I’ll introduce you to everyone. Don’t worry about remembering names. You’ll have plenty of time to learn them later.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jack said, “Well, you managed to make that sound ominous enough.”
“You’re here for life, my friend,” the man said, patting his shoulder, still sodden from his dousing earlier. “You’ve been baptised into the colony.”
“Great,” Jack said flatly, and tried to pay attention as the man started reeling off people’s names, and hands were shoved forward for him to shake.
He discovered over the course of the next ten minutes that nearly all of the villagers were Welsh, and that (somewhat to his surprise) none of them had been here any longer than ten years. This was a startling revelation, particularly since it came hot on the heels of his introduction to a Druid who had been drawn through the circle some years before the first Roman invasion of Britain. The more recent additions to the colony were quick to explain that time seemed to go slower in this place when the stone circle wasn’t open. They also told him that theirs wasn’t the only village around, though the others were of different nationalities (they mentioned Irish and French specifically) and seemed to be linked to different stone circles. And they reluctantly told Jack that there had been many escape attempts before, but there was some sort of barrier blocking the entrance to the circle, and none of them could pass through.
“You got stuck on a one way trip,” he was informed. “But you’ll get used to it here. It’s not that bad, really.”
“I’ve got too much I have to get back to,” Jack said in return. “I’ll try heading back for myself, if you don’t mind.”
They shrugged and began to go back to their work, leaving Jack with Glyn, the most recent arrival apart from himself. Glyn smiled tolerantly at him, saying, “It won’t work, you know. You may as well just settle down and try to enjoy life here. The circle will close in an hour or so anyway.”
Jack looked at him sharply, asking, “You mean I have an hour to get out before I’m trapped here?”
“You’re already trapped,” Glyn said, glancing at the two aliens, who appeared to have finished eating and were about to move on, without Jack. “They’ll never let you leave.”
The aliens paused to take a good look at the village, then walked away. Glyn led Jack over to the table, saying, “Here. You should eat something,” but Jack wasn’t interested in the food. Instead he picked up the sash one of his captors had been wearing, and had a look in the pockets.
“They left everything,” he said, a little confused, and Glyn shrugged.
“They don’t need your technology. What have you got? Anything that might be useful round here?”
Shaking his head, Jack put the sash on, and said, “Sorry. I’m taking it with me.”
Glyn didn’t even try to dissuade him, sitting on the table and pouring himself a cup of water, saying, “You’re welcome to try to leave, but you won’t succeed.”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” Jack said sarcastically.
Smiling tolerantly, Glyn sipped his water and said, “I’ll see you later. Enjoy the walk.”
Jack just snorted, and turned away. As he was heading back to the hills, he was surprised to see a single figure approaching the village. It took him a moment longer than it should have done to recognise him (the coat threw him for a second) and then he couldn’t help laughing and running to meet Ianto in the open ground.
When he reached Ianto and hurled his arms around him, Ianto hugged him back briefly, then pulled away saying, “You’re soaking wet, Jack. What happened?”
“That’s not the most important thing at the moment,” Jack told him, unable to help grinning. “We have to get back to the circle, quickly.”
Ianto didn’t argue, simply turning and walking back the way he’d come. Jack kept up with him, explaining everything that had happened as they went, and warning Ianto of the villagers’ certainty that they wouldn’t be able to return through the stone circle.
Their journey went unnoticed - or unopposed, at least - while Jack outlined his theory that the villagers were only taken to be farmers, and kept the alien race fed and watered, and free to pursue other areas of interest, be it science or leisure. It wasn’t the most efficient way of life, but the numbers of humans being taken had dwindled to a bare minimum already, and most of those who still remained in the villages would be hopelessly out of place if they returned to modern Earth. The fact that they didn’t seem willing or able to leave the planet was almost irrelevant.
Ianto quietly agreed with almost all of Jack’s suggestions, paying more attention to the countryside around them than to the conversation, still anxious in case anyone tried to stop them from leaving. They saw no-one, even when they arrived back at the circle after a little more than half an hour’s walk.
“You first,” Ianto told Jack firmly, and Jack smiled at him, then strolled through the entrance.
And stopped dead before he’d got past the stones. He struggled to move forward any further, then had to step back, breathing hard.
“Shit,” he said simply.
Ianto bit his lip, and cautiously tried walking through himself. He got further than Jack, then paused and stretched out his hand. There was no barrier.
Looking back at Jack, he said, “I don’t seem to have any trouble. They didn’t tag you somehow, did they?”
Jack shook his head, frowning, and tried to think. Slowly, he said, “Unless they did something while I was out of it, I don’t know of anything that could stop me leaving.”
For a few moments, Ianto was silent, staring at the circle and touching one of the top stones thoughtfully. Then he glanced at Jack, and frowned. At last, he said slowly, “This is the Otherworld that turns up in Celtic legends. The Land of Youth, where time in the real world passes you by. Jack, did you eat anything while you were here?”
“No,” Jack said, looking confused. “Why -”
“You’re Persephone, Jack,” Ianto told him. “If you ate or drank anything you won’t be able to get through the barrier. That’s why it doesn’t work on me.”
“But I didn’t,” Jack said. “I didn’t touch anything.”
Ianto looked back between the circle and Jack again, then put his hands on his hips and said firmly, “Strip.”
Jack blinked, then couldn’t help grinning, saying, “Much as I love it when you give me orders like that, I’m not seeing the point…”
“They threw a bucket of water over you,” Ianto said patiently. “Your clothes are full of it, and if I’m right then the barrier won’t let you through if you’ve got anything from this world with you.”
Jack stared at him for a moment, then took off the sash with his belongings in, and handed it to Ianto, saying, “I really hope you’re right,” as he started undoing the buttons on his shirt.
Ianto put the sash aside and took off Jack’s coat, handing it to him when Jack had finished undressing. While Jack shrugged that on and buttoned it, Ianto went through the sash and transferred Jack’s headset to his pocket, his wrist computer to his own arm, and the gun, still in its holster, to his hip. Then he looked back at Jack, and reached out to take hold of his hand. The cut had been bound in green silk, now stained by blood.
“This might hurt,” he warned Jack, undoing the knot, and then pulled the silk from the cut. Jack flinched but didn’t make a sound, even though the gash was ripped open and started bleeding again.
“Sorry,” Ianto murmured, digging in his pocket for a clean handkerchief and tying it around Jack’s hand instead.
“Let’s just get out of here,” Jack said quietly, and Ianto gestured for him to go first through the circle again.
A little nervously, Jack stepped through the entrance, and then took another two steps. He paused, glancing back at Ianto and saying, “I think I can make it, but it hurts. It’s… burning. It gets worse the further I go.”
Ianto nodded, slowly, and said, “In that case, I’m really sorry about this.”
Before Jack could ask him what he meant, Ianto strode forward and grabbed Jack around the waist, hauling him into the middle of the circle and doing his best to ignore Jack’s sudden scream of agony. The circle shimmered and fell open in front of them, and Ianto dragged Jack through the gap. Jack was clinging to him and stumbling, breathing harshly but just managing to walk, with help. When Ianto looked up, he saw the others running towards them.
Owen was all set to start yelling at Ianto the second he got close enough, but Ianto headed him off quickly, saying, “Jack’s hurt. And the circle’s going to -”
At Tosh’s gasp he glanced back, in time to see the circle shimmer and vanish.
“- disappear,” he finished quietly, and Owen wordlessly came to help him support Jack back to the SUV.
“Why’s Jack barefoot?” Tosh asked as they helped him over the grass.
Jack coughed out a laugh, and told them, “I’ll let Ianto try and explain that.”
~*~
When they made it back to the Hub, they sent Gwen home while Tosh made a note of the incident and logged the readings she’d taken from the sheepfold, for future reference. Owen made a start on patching up the grazes and lacerations Jack had picked up in the transfer back to Earth. The only cause for them that Ianto could think of was that there had still been water on Jack’s skin when they’d re-entered the circle, and he was subsequently wracked with guilt for forcing Jack through the barrier. Jack, later, told him quietly that it didn’t matter, considering how close their escape had been. It didn’t help his conscience much.
After dealing with a few of the worse injuries, Owen got sick of Jack’s complaints, and left him to Ianto’s tender ministrations. And so the day eventually rounded off with the two of them alone in the Hub, and Jack lying flat on his back on his bed, wincing whenever Ianto tried to clean his lacerated chest.
“I’m fine, Ianto,” he protested eventually. “Perfectly - ow - fine. Honest.”
“Owen said to make sure your wounds were clean,” Ianto told him firmly. “I caused them, so I’ll do what I can to get them healed as fast as possible.”
Jack sighed, and covered his eyes with one hand, saying, “You didn’t cause them. You saved me, Ianto. I wouldn’t have figured out that the water was keeping me there.”
“You would have done,” Ianto disagreed, carefully sticking a patch over the grazes he’d just cleaned.
“Not quick enough,” Jack said, and raised his hand from his eyes to watch as Ianto moved away to get a fresh bowl of water and rinse the cloth out.
“You know this isn’t fair,” he called, and Ianto asked, “What isn’t?” as he returned.
“Well,” Jack explained, with a very faint smile, “whenever I get hurt, you get to see me with my shirt off. And you had me strip earlier, too.”
Ianto paused, then said, “There was a good reason for that.”
Raising his eyebrows, Jack asked, “Do I need to give you a list? Come on, humour a wounded man here. More Ianto, less shirt.”
Ianto put the bowl of water carefully on the floor out of the way, and, going back over to Jack, told him, “You know you only have to ask.”
And obliged.