Fic: Hidden - Chapter 10/31
Title: Hidden
Rating: R/MA - contains violence, language and sexual references.
Length: ~48,000 words
Characters/pairings: Ianto, Jack, Gwen, OCs, mention of Rhys, Tosh and Owen. Jack/Ianto.
Disclaimer: The OCs are mine, anyone and anything you recognise from Torchwood belongs to the BBC.
Notes: Anything up to 'Exit Wounds' for Torchwood, with reference to the events of 'The Stolen Earth' and 'Journey's End' for Doctor Who. AU. Oh so very AU. Even more so once series three starts.
Thanks to: the lovely
cazmalfoy and
et_muse for beta-reading and general poking.
Summary: 'This is Torchwood Three...Torchwood Four's kinda gone missing, but we'll find it one day.' Torchwood One wasn't the first job Ianto had - wasn't the first Torchwood branch he worked for. Now his past is coming back to put everyone he loves in danger.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine
Ianto glanced both ways down the street before ringing the doorbell of the house he stood before. It was more habit than anything else; he was fairly sure he hadn’t been followed directly, although it was only a matter of time before Torchwood Four caught up with him. The pavement was clear; the few cars parked on the road were empty. It was just an urban street that might belong to any of a hundred city or town centres. For now he was safe.
The door was pulled open with a jerk. “ - and that’s that,” the woman said, not to Ianto but to the small girl tugging at her hand. The woman’s jeans were ripped and her t-shirt was covered in paint stains; the child, by contrast, was dressed entirely in purple and looked pristine.
“Hello, Abby,” said Ianto, slightly bemused. The woman, Abby, looked up. For a moment she looked at him blankly, but then recognition hit and her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You’ll catch flies,” he said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Ianto Jones,” she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “You daft idiot.” She reached out, arms outstretched, and he hugged her tightly. “It’s good to see you,” she added, and pulled back just enough to stretch up on tiptoes; even then Ianto had to lower his head for her to kiss his cheek.
“You too,” he said, voice unaccountably gruff, and to cover his emotion he glanced down at the little girl by Abby’s side. “Hello,” he greeted.
“’lo,” the child said shyly.
“Oh, this is my daughter,” said Abby, releasing Ianto. “Gemma. Gemma, this is an old friend of Mummy’s. Ianto Jones.”
“’lo,” said Gemma again.
“She’s shy,” Abby said with a roll of her eyes. Gemma pouted and leaned against Abby’s leg. “Ianto, what are you doing here?” Abby asked, one hand moving to rest on Gemma’s head. “It’s been years.”
“Can I come in?” Ianto asked instead of answering her question. Abby’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she glanced up and down the street from the same habit that had been taught to Ianto. “It’s safe,” he assured her, and after a moment she nodded and let him into her house.
“Safe for now,” she said, leading him down the hallway and into a brightly-lit kitchen. “You going to tell me about that Captain of yours, or am I going to keep guessing?”
Ianto had to smile. Abby Deed’s particular talent lay in the realms of clairvoyance, and she could see things about other people’s lives by touching them. It had delighted him as a sixteen-year-old green recruit, and it continued to delight him now even though he had a better idea of how invasive it could be, for both Abby and whomever she touched.
“Jack’s in Cardiff,” he said, seating himself at the kitchen table. Gemma hauled herself into a chair next to him and picked up one of the crayons scattered over the table. “I’m not in Cardiff, obviously.”
“Well, yes,” Abby said with a sigh. “Have you talked to John Marshall lately?” He shook his head, and Abby pursed her lips before turning to put the kettle on. “So what do you want from me?” she asked, not looking at him.
“Down to business.”
“Ianto!” Abby exclaimed, spinning around and raising her hands in frustration. “I’m retired. I’m a mother! I can’t get involved in you running from Marshall and the retrieval teams.”
“I know that.” Ianto rubbed a hand across his face wearily. “I didn’t know, Abby. I wouldn’t have come if I had.” He watched Gemma as she leaned over her colouring book, tongue poked out as she concentrated. Her blonde curls fell across her eyes. “She’s lovely,” he said then.
“She’s listening to every word,” Abby said after a moment, looking a little mollified. “Don’t inflate her ego.”
”What’s an ego?” Gemma asked, not looking up from her picture of an elephant.
“It means you think you’re very beautiful and clever and important,” said Abby, smiling at her daughter before moving to retrieve a couple of mugs from a cupboard. “Which you are, but you don’t need to hear it.”
“Okay,” said Gemma with a little giggle, and Ianto couldn’t help but smile again despite the situation.
“You can’t stay here,” Abby told him, practically throwing teabags into the mugs. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m on good terms with Four. I won’t jeopardise that.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to.” Ianto reached out for one of Gemma’s crayons, a blue one the colour of his favourite of Jack’s shirts. Gemma looked up at him with a disapproving scowl. “Can I draw?” he asked.
“There’s no more paper,” she informed him, and held out her hand for the crayon. Ianto grinned suddenly and threw it into the air. Gemma made an annoyed sound, but Ianto sent the crayon dancing around the room, and she laughed joyfully. “Oh! Oh! Do it again, do it again!” she begged him. “Do more!”
“Gemma, manners,” Abby admonished, setting a mug of tea on the table before Ianto. “What do we say?”
“Please,” Gemma said quickly. “Please, do it again!” Ianto grabbed another couple of crayons and chucked them into the air, and the three crayons spun around the room and around Gemma’s head before he let them fall one at a time to the table.
“And now what do you say?” Abby prompted, sitting down.
“Thank you,” said Gemma obediently.
“My pleasure,” smiled Ianto. He cupped his hands around the warm mug, and looked again at Abby. “Honestly, if I’d known I wouldn’t have come.”
“I know that,” said Abby with a sigh. “I do know.” She sipped her tea, regarding him thoughtfully. “I always wondered why they didn’t go after you in the first place, to be honest,” she admitted eventually. “I suppose they had their reasons, but you were so damn good at what you did.” Ianto nodded but didn’t speak. “I guess they thought they owed you.”
“They did,” Ianto said gruffly, and avoided her sympathetic gaze by focusing on the mug in his hands.
“Ianto - you can’t - “ Abby cut herself off, frustrated, and then she tried again. “I know what happened with Anwen was -“
“Don’t,” said Ianto, and he sounded so dangerous that Abby had to lean back in her chair, almost, but not quite, scared. “Don’t tell me it was a mistake. Don’t tell me I don’t have a right to be angry. Don’t - don’t say her name.”
“Who’s Anwen?” asked Gemma, looking up at Ianto with wide brown eyes. She was too young to pick up on the undercurrents of the situation, and Ianto couldn’t look at her for a moment. “That’s a weird name,” the girl added.
“She was my sister,” said Ianto at last.
“Is she pretty?” asked the innocent child, and Ianto nodded, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s a pretty name. Does she make things fly too?”
“She’s dead,” Ianto told her, and finished his tea. “Abby, all I need is information, and then I’ll go. With a bit of luck they won’t even know I’ve been here.”
“Luck?” she queried, eyes narrowed. “The Ianto Jones I remember didn’t rely on luck.”
“I covered my tracks,” he snapped, “but you know as well as I do what I’m facing in the retrieval teams.” Abby nodded with a grimace. “Justin Stark, Abby.” He held her gaze for a long moment, and then she shook her head.
“No,” she said. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Abby -“
“He’s a -“ She cut herself off with a horrified glance at Gemma. She took several deep breaths; Ianto just watched her. “You don’t want to be getting mixed up with a mercenary like him,” Abby said, almost a plea. “He can’t help you.”
“He can give me what I need,” said Ianto. He reached out and took her hand, making her gasp. “I know you can see what’s been happening,” he murmured. “Look at me, Abby. Look at how I feel about Jack and tell me you don’t understand why I’m doing this.”
“I -“ Abby was close to tears, and she turned her hand in his to entwine their fingers. “I can’t tell you that,” she said brokenly. “But Ianto, would Jack want you to do this? To become worse than anything you’ve ever fought against?”
“Jack…” Ianto pulled back and sighed. “Jack doesn’t have any choice in this. It’s nothing to do with him.”
“It’s going to be, though,” she told him. “You don’t think he’s going to turn over the Earth itself to find you? And when he does, do you think he’ll want to see you covered in John Marshall’s blood?”
“Marshall made his own bed when he ordered the death of my sister,” snapped Ianto. He rose. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go to someone who can.”
“No, no,” said Abby, and stood up. “I have a number. That’s all. Tony Dawes in Coventry knows where to find Stark.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Comments are loooooove.
Rating: R/MA - contains violence, language and sexual references.
Length: ~48,000 words
Characters/pairings: Ianto, Jack, Gwen, OCs, mention of Rhys, Tosh and Owen. Jack/Ianto.
Disclaimer: The OCs are mine, anyone and anything you recognise from Torchwood belongs to the BBC.
Notes: Anything up to 'Exit Wounds' for Torchwood, with reference to the events of 'The Stolen Earth' and 'Journey's End' for Doctor Who. AU. Oh so very AU. Even more so once series three starts.
Thanks to: the lovely
cazmalfoy and
et_muse for beta-reading and general poking.
Summary: 'This is Torchwood Three...Torchwood Four's kinda gone missing, but we'll find it one day.' Torchwood One wasn't the first job Ianto had - wasn't the first Torchwood branch he worked for. Now his past is coming back to put everyone he loves in danger.
Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine
Ianto glanced both ways down the street before ringing the doorbell of the house he stood before. It was more habit than anything else; he was fairly sure he hadn’t been followed directly, although it was only a matter of time before Torchwood Four caught up with him. The pavement was clear; the few cars parked on the road were empty. It was just an urban street that might belong to any of a hundred city or town centres. For now he was safe.
The door was pulled open with a jerk. “ - and that’s that,” the woman said, not to Ianto but to the small girl tugging at her hand. The woman’s jeans were ripped and her t-shirt was covered in paint stains; the child, by contrast, was dressed entirely in purple and looked pristine.
“Hello, Abby,” said Ianto, slightly bemused. The woman, Abby, looked up. For a moment she looked at him blankly, but then recognition hit and her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You’ll catch flies,” he said, lifting an eyebrow.
“Ianto Jones,” she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “You daft idiot.” She reached out, arms outstretched, and he hugged her tightly. “It’s good to see you,” she added, and pulled back just enough to stretch up on tiptoes; even then Ianto had to lower his head for her to kiss his cheek.
“You too,” he said, voice unaccountably gruff, and to cover his emotion he glanced down at the little girl by Abby’s side. “Hello,” he greeted.
“’lo,” the child said shyly.
“Oh, this is my daughter,” said Abby, releasing Ianto. “Gemma. Gemma, this is an old friend of Mummy’s. Ianto Jones.”
“’lo,” said Gemma again.
“She’s shy,” Abby said with a roll of her eyes. Gemma pouted and leaned against Abby’s leg. “Ianto, what are you doing here?” Abby asked, one hand moving to rest on Gemma’s head. “It’s been years.”
“Can I come in?” Ianto asked instead of answering her question. Abby’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, and she glanced up and down the street from the same habit that had been taught to Ianto. “It’s safe,” he assured her, and after a moment she nodded and let him into her house.
“Safe for now,” she said, leading him down the hallway and into a brightly-lit kitchen. “You going to tell me about that Captain of yours, or am I going to keep guessing?”
Ianto had to smile. Abby Deed’s particular talent lay in the realms of clairvoyance, and she could see things about other people’s lives by touching them. It had delighted him as a sixteen-year-old green recruit, and it continued to delight him now even though he had a better idea of how invasive it could be, for both Abby and whomever she touched.
“Jack’s in Cardiff,” he said, seating himself at the kitchen table. Gemma hauled herself into a chair next to him and picked up one of the crayons scattered over the table. “I’m not in Cardiff, obviously.”
“Well, yes,” Abby said with a sigh. “Have you talked to John Marshall lately?” He shook his head, and Abby pursed her lips before turning to put the kettle on. “So what do you want from me?” she asked, not looking at him.
“Down to business.”
“Ianto!” Abby exclaimed, spinning around and raising her hands in frustration. “I’m retired. I’m a mother! I can’t get involved in you running from Marshall and the retrieval teams.”
“I know that.” Ianto rubbed a hand across his face wearily. “I didn’t know, Abby. I wouldn’t have come if I had.” He watched Gemma as she leaned over her colouring book, tongue poked out as she concentrated. Her blonde curls fell across her eyes. “She’s lovely,” he said then.
“She’s listening to every word,” Abby said after a moment, looking a little mollified. “Don’t inflate her ego.”
”What’s an ego?” Gemma asked, not looking up from her picture of an elephant.
“It means you think you’re very beautiful and clever and important,” said Abby, smiling at her daughter before moving to retrieve a couple of mugs from a cupboard. “Which you are, but you don’t need to hear it.”
“Okay,” said Gemma with a little giggle, and Ianto couldn’t help but smile again despite the situation.
“You can’t stay here,” Abby told him, practically throwing teabags into the mugs. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m on good terms with Four. I won’t jeopardise that.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to.” Ianto reached out for one of Gemma’s crayons, a blue one the colour of his favourite of Jack’s shirts. Gemma looked up at him with a disapproving scowl. “Can I draw?” he asked.
“There’s no more paper,” she informed him, and held out her hand for the crayon. Ianto grinned suddenly and threw it into the air. Gemma made an annoyed sound, but Ianto sent the crayon dancing around the room, and she laughed joyfully. “Oh! Oh! Do it again, do it again!” she begged him. “Do more!”
“Gemma, manners,” Abby admonished, setting a mug of tea on the table before Ianto. “What do we say?”
“Please,” Gemma said quickly. “Please, do it again!” Ianto grabbed another couple of crayons and chucked them into the air, and the three crayons spun around the room and around Gemma’s head before he let them fall one at a time to the table.
“And now what do you say?” Abby prompted, sitting down.
“Thank you,” said Gemma obediently.
“My pleasure,” smiled Ianto. He cupped his hands around the warm mug, and looked again at Abby. “Honestly, if I’d known I wouldn’t have come.”
“I know that,” said Abby with a sigh. “I do know.” She sipped her tea, regarding him thoughtfully. “I always wondered why they didn’t go after you in the first place, to be honest,” she admitted eventually. “I suppose they had their reasons, but you were so damn good at what you did.” Ianto nodded but didn’t speak. “I guess they thought they owed you.”
“They did,” Ianto said gruffly, and avoided her sympathetic gaze by focusing on the mug in his hands.
“Ianto - you can’t - “ Abby cut herself off, frustrated, and then she tried again. “I know what happened with Anwen was -“
“Don’t,” said Ianto, and he sounded so dangerous that Abby had to lean back in her chair, almost, but not quite, scared. “Don’t tell me it was a mistake. Don’t tell me I don’t have a right to be angry. Don’t - don’t say her name.”
“Who’s Anwen?” asked Gemma, looking up at Ianto with wide brown eyes. She was too young to pick up on the undercurrents of the situation, and Ianto couldn’t look at her for a moment. “That’s a weird name,” the girl added.
“She was my sister,” said Ianto at last.
“Is she pretty?” asked the innocent child, and Ianto nodded, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s a pretty name. Does she make things fly too?”
“She’s dead,” Ianto told her, and finished his tea. “Abby, all I need is information, and then I’ll go. With a bit of luck they won’t even know I’ve been here.”
“Luck?” she queried, eyes narrowed. “The Ianto Jones I remember didn’t rely on luck.”
“I covered my tracks,” he snapped, “but you know as well as I do what I’m facing in the retrieval teams.” Abby nodded with a grimace. “Justin Stark, Abby.” He held her gaze for a long moment, and then she shook her head.
“No,” she said. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Abby -“
“He’s a -“ She cut herself off with a horrified glance at Gemma. She took several deep breaths; Ianto just watched her. “You don’t want to be getting mixed up with a mercenary like him,” Abby said, almost a plea. “He can’t help you.”
“He can give me what I need,” said Ianto. He reached out and took her hand, making her gasp. “I know you can see what’s been happening,” he murmured. “Look at me, Abby. Look at how I feel about Jack and tell me you don’t understand why I’m doing this.”
“I -“ Abby was close to tears, and she turned her hand in his to entwine their fingers. “I can’t tell you that,” she said brokenly. “But Ianto, would Jack want you to do this? To become worse than anything you’ve ever fought against?”
“Jack…” Ianto pulled back and sighed. “Jack doesn’t have any choice in this. It’s nothing to do with him.”
“It’s going to be, though,” she told him. “You don’t think he’s going to turn over the Earth itself to find you? And when he does, do you think he’ll want to see you covered in John Marshall’s blood?”
“Marshall made his own bed when he ordered the death of my sister,” snapped Ianto. He rose. “If you won’t help me, I’ll go to someone who can.”
“No, no,” said Abby, and stood up. “I have a number. That’s all. Tony Dawes in Coventry knows where to find Stark.”
“Thank you.”
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Comments are loooooove.