Fic: Temictlicoatl
Title: Temictlicoatl
Author Name: Anonymous
Original Prompt Number: 118
Pairing(s): Jack / Ianto
Summary: Jack and Ianto investigate an Aztec temple and stumble onto an ancient evil.
Rating: 15 to be safe
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction and is written as a tribute to the show. Torchwood, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones belong to the BBC, and not to me.
Warnings: Nothing extreme. Some death and violent images.
Word Count: 9,000 words approx.
Author's Notes: The title means Dream-snake in (rough) Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs. Here’s where I also make a nod to Classic Who for at least some of the inspiration!
Beta: K, (above and beyond the call of duty! Thank you so much) with thanks also to J and B.
Mods: The formatting on the fic has been fixed. Our apologies - don't know what happened when we were posting this, but everything should now be fine. Again, our apologies to you, the readers, and to the mystery author!
CHAPTER ONE
Nothing, Ianto thought, was ever easy.
The branches that kept smacking into his face threatened to blind him, but frankly, that was the least of Ianto’s problems. Up ahead, Jack was a blur of light blue, dodging through the undergrowth ahead of him.
“What was it they’d do to us is they caught us again?” Ianto asked; his chest burning as he just managed to catch up with Jack. It wasn’t that he thought he could spare the breath to talk; more that he felt the need to remind himself exactly why they couldn’t stop.
“Rip your still-beating heart out of your chest,” Jack replied casually.
Oh right, yes. That was it. “Thought so,” Ianto said with equal ease. “Do we have a plan?”
“Working on it,” Jack shot back, not rising to the bait.
“Oh. That’s good, because for a minute I thought we were in trouble.”
Ianto’s hat caught on one of the branches and he snatched it back reflexively. The short battle caused him to slow a little. Ahead, he saw Jack also slowing, allowing Ianto to come even with his shoulder.
“What kept you?” asked Jack, biting back a smile.
Ianto waved the fedora in Jack’s general direction.
“Didn’t I tell you not to wear that?” Jack questioned him with a raised eyebrow.
“You told me not to wear it…for anyone else,” Ianto said continuing to look straight ahead.
Ahead, the trees had thinned out and behind them their pursuers appeared to have fallen back. Rising in the centre of the clearing, covered with undergrowth, was the remnants of a step pyramid. It matched almost exactly, the blurry image that had brought them here in the first place.
“I said I’d come up with a plan,” said Jack, this time not hiding the smile.
Behind them, rustling and voices signalled the men following them weren’t far behind.
“Given that they seem to be chasing us towards the temple with a view to sacrificing us,” Ianto said, “your plan is to give them what they want?”
Jack looked down at his wrist device, “The rift readings are coming from the pyramid.” he gestured at the stone steps, “If we’re going to find out what’s going on in there, and maybe stop it, it’s where we need to be.”
“If we can do that in such a way as I keep all my internal organs…” Ianto said, as he fell into step behind Jack.
***
A week prior, two things had happened. An Earthquake had rippled through central Mexico, dislodging enough of the rubble and plant growth to reveal the temple entrance to the archaeological survey team in the area. Second and simultaneously; the rift monitors back at the hub had gone crazy, notifying Torchwood of distant temporal activity. Reports had been sporadic at first, little oddities dismissed in the more pressing need of the quake’s effects in Mexico City. Eventually though, repeated stories of unusual sightings had filtered out of the region. The archaeologists had stopped transmitting data four days ago, and five reports of ‘men dressed as Aztec warriors’ who were ‘wreaking bloodthirsty havoc’ had fallen across Jack’s desk.
This had left Jack with a problem. Gwen was two weeks away from getting married, and Owen was, at the very least, mostly dead. He wasn’t in a position to send either of them to Mexico. The very last thing Jack wanted to do was rely on UNIT for help. Particularly when alien technology had been satellite-identified at the site. Jack had decided he and Ianto would make the trek, despite Tosh’s quiet protestations. He’d needed her at the Hub providing support for both he and Ianto, as well as Owen and Gwen on the domestic front. So, Jack had left them with a list of important phone numbers, a detailed list of instructions that all started with ‘in the event of’, and he and Ianto had caught the next flight to Central Mexico.
That flight had been interesting. Funny how they’d ended up with seats in first class.
Back in the present, Jack settled on examining the remains of the archaeologists’ camp. Equipment was strewn about; tents were damaged, finds trays overturned, but there was nothing that might account for their disappearance here on the surface. He’d been half expecting to find them with their hearts torn out, and the fact he hadn’t meant solving this puzzle had just become a little more difficult. Jack looked up at the broken steps that lead to the top of the pyramid and squinted into the sun. From his current location, he couldn’t tell if anything had happened up there recently.
“According to this,” Ianto said, looking down at the scanner Tosh had entrusted to his care, “the entrance should be round about ...”
Jack took that moment to find the entrance to the temple by falling into a hole.
It wasn’t far to fall and the landing barely knocked the wind out of him. Quickly dusting off his shirt, he looked up to see Ianto’s concerned face looking down at him from the edge of the hole.
“Are you all right?” Ianto asked, worriedly.
“I’m fine,” Jack called back up, “although I’d suggest you come down more carefully.”
A rope appeared a few moments later, then Ianto tentatively stepped backwards over the edge, easing his way carefully down the side of the pit. Not a bad view, Jack mused.
Jack caught Ianto at the bottom, holding him briefly, “You know, that leather jacket suits you,” he said with a smile, brushing debris off the collar. “Still not sure about the hat.” He followed his tidying efforts with a rough kiss.
Ianto tipped the hat back for a moment’s better access, then turned his head away abruptly from the kiss and looked down at his feet. He pulled the torch from his pocket and shone it on the ground near where they stood, revealing a pale, upturned hand.
They both took a step back from the corpse.
The dead man lay against the slope, partly concealed by stone blocks. Jack switched on his own torch, the sudden extra light disturbing other inhabitants of the hole. Insects scuttled back into the shadows, and a rat scurried over the chest of the body as Jack tracked his torch over it. A single bullet wound smeared the chin of the corpse with blood, the greater mass of gore spilled from the exit wound. Jack crouched down; looking at the gun laying centimetres from the cadaver’s other hand.
Ianto had drawn his gun and now he aimed it, and his torch, towards the dark maw of the temple. He cast his eye over the body, but kept his weapon and his torch towards the as yet unknown depths.
“Suicide?” Ianto suggested.
“Looks like.”
Jack was no stranger to forms of death. He estimated this death had occurred 48 hours ago, which made it even less pleasant to search the pockets of the dead body for identification. The papers he found were for one Miguel Castille; a missing archaeologist.
Jack knew Ianto was watching him, saying nothing, but obviously thinking the same thing as Jack. What’s down here that made an archaeologist shoot himself?
Jack got to his feet, checked his own gun, and looked into the blackness ahead. A pair of cats’ eyes glinted in the beam from his torch, a low growl sounding ahead of them in the darkness.
“What’s that?” Ianto said.
“Jaguar?” Jack suggested, He threw a stone in the direction of the animal, unwilling to kill it out of hand. With another growl it paced silently away, disappearing into the shadows. “It will probably leave us alone, but don’t let your guard down. Ready?”
Ianto nodded his assent. Let’s do this.
***
The small chamber they were in; Ianto guessed was not really a chamber at all, just given the appearance of one by centuries of tree roots growing through the blocks above, opened into what seemed to be part of the temple proper. He trailed the light of his torch along the walls as Jack searched ahead.
The light caught something red; Ianto’s first thought was blood, sending his heart racing, but it turned out to be paint. It was bright paint, protected from the elements for several centuries by its subterranean location. He caught Jack’s arm, pointing the images out to him. “Some kind of mural,” Ianto said, mostly to himself, “depictions of a God. Tezcatlipoca, I think. Yep, there’s the mirror.”
Seeing Jack’s quizzical expression Ianto asked, “What? I read up before I came.”
Jack tried out the unusual syllables, “So what’s Tez-catl-ipoca doing?”
“Fighting another God,” Ianto explained, “maybe Quetzalcoatl?” Ianto studied the images and then produced a small book from his pocket, holding it up for comparison. “Yes.”
“Anything else, Doctor Jones?” Jack grinned.
Ianto took a long moment to adjust his hat and voice to their most academic, “The two Gods are variously illustrated as enemies, or as variations on a theme, throughout Mexican history. The smoking mirror, Tezcatlipoca, and the feathered serpent, Quetzalcoatl.”
Jack looked down briefly at his wrist, eyeing the flickering readings with suspicion, “The focus of rift activity and the technology readings are both that way,” he pointed deeper into the temple.
Ianto nodded, “That way it is then.”
Jack took the lead. As Ianto followed, he was aware of the darkness closing behind them, even as the torches illuminated the way ahead. Stark white bones, thankfully none of them human, littered the passageway. The musty scent of a wild animal, Ianto assumed the jaguar, was heavy in the air. Every so often something crunched underfoot and Ianto tried hard not to think about what it might be.
More murals danced in the torchlight; vivid against the whitewashed stone blocks, two priests, one of each God. As Ianto turned to look again and comment on the details; something was irking him but he didn’t know what, something about the way they seemed to be telling a bloody story about Cortez’ men. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto caught sight of something moving up in the tunnel. He whirled, training his gun and torch onto the spot and seeing only a grainy, reflective surface ahead.
“Whoa,” Jack said, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden glare of Ianto’s torch.
“Sorry,” Ianto caught his breath and lowered the light, “thought I saw something.”
Ahead, the passage had reached its end, terminating in a cracked slab of glassy volcanic rock. The torchlight and polished surface gave Jack and Ianto the illusion of ghosts, reflected in the smoky greys of the obsidian. To the left, a cracked edge and narrow opening offered a route beyond the wall.
“Shall we?” Jack’s voice was go-lucky, but there was just enough light to notice his eyes were dark with concern.
This probably wasn’t the time for Ianto to mention he was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic; so he buried it deep, funny how easy that became at Torchwood, and found humour instead. “Age before beauty,” he gestured for Jack to precede him.
“Some of us have both,” Jack retorted, and peered into the space.
“Careful,” Ianto said, “I don’t want you to get your ego stuck; it’s a very narrow gap.”
CHAPTER TWO
Grinning, Jack snapped a large glow-stick, throwing it ahead of him into the chamber. Satisfied there was room enough and no major hazards, he squeezed through the opening.
The light was brighter than he anticipated; the glow reflected back by twenty or so polished slabs, although the black-mirror surfaces were also darkly unsettling. He flicked his torch round the walls, and up at the ceiling, estimating its stability. Confident it seemed solid enough; he completed his trip into the room.
In the centre of the room was a raised platform, coming level with Jack’s hip. The shape of a body was easy to make out, decked in the regalia of one of the priest figures Ianto had pointed out on the wall. A closer inspection made it clear the man had long since turned to bones. Gold and green jewellery stood out against fragments of white fabric, even through the coating of dust, and Jack checked them, in case they were the source of the readings.
They weren’t.
As he turned, something brushed against Jack’s face, startling him so he ducked and rolled without thinking. Looking back to identify the threat, he saw something akin to a dream-catcher hanging above the skeleton. Jack laughed at himself for being spooked by a five hundred year old hippy decoration, and got to his feet.
“Looks okay,” Jack called back to Ianto, then caught sight of something that changed his mind. “No, hold it.”
From his new position, he could see another body, this one far more recent than the dusty remains on the platform. She, it was clearly a she, lay crumpled near another passageway. Jack put his hand against her neck, finding the skin icy cold and no signs of life. Grimacing, he turned the body over and heard the sound of a ‘tink’ against the floor. The knife clutched in the body’s hand slipped onto the floor, rocking slightly as it settled. There was no obvious sign of injury; the blood splattered across her front seemed not to be her own. As Jack went through her pockets, he identified her as Rosa Benitez. He made out a mottled pattern on her throat. Strangled?
He picked up the knife, recognising the dark smear on the obsidian blade as blood. Two dead. Not good.
“Jack?” Ianto had wormed his way into the chamber but hadn’t gone far from the entrance. He was looking up at the ceiling.
“Another body,” Jack said.
If Ianto had been going to reply to that, it was lost in the clear sound of something scuttling in the passageway beyond. Both men turned to the sound, guns raised and trained on the opening.
When nothing came through, Jack edged forward, quickly flashing the beam from his torchlight into the passageway. “Nothing,” he said, as he ducked back. “It seems to split into two corridors back that way, though, and they’re mirrored, same as here.”
Looking down again, Jack realised the alien readings lay down one of those corridors. He couldn’t tell which. “Stay right behind me,” he said, as he moved into the corridor.
***
Staying right behind Jack was easier said than done. The light was patchy and the smoky obsidian walls distorted Ianto’s sense of distance and perception. Turning at a sound he thought came from behind him, he caught the flash of a white figure dimly reflected in the mirrors.
“Jack?” Ianto whispered, “Did you see that?”
Getting no reply, he turned back to where Jack had been the moment before, finding only his own shadowy reflection against the wall. Ianto turned his head back, seeing no sign of the figure.
“Jack?” His hand went on reflex to his headset, “Jack?”
***
Jack turned his head, sure he’d had Ianto at his shoulder bare seconds before. He flicked his torch round the passageway, catching for a moment what seemed to be a white figure standing in his way. By the time he looked more closely, it was gone, if it had ever been there to begin with.
“Ianto?”
There was no reply, and Jack tapped at the earpiece, “Ianto? You there?”
“Jack?”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Ianto’s reply, “Yes. What happened?”
“Don’t know. It’s the mirrors down here; I must have gotten turned around.”
Either that or the walls are moving, Jack thought, trying to retrace his steps and realising that the polished slabs were almost identical and angled slightly. The straight corridor he’d first seen was far from straight. “Stay where you are. I’ll come to you. We should have brought a ball of wool.”
“Fine by me,” Ianto said, “you were planning on doing some knitting?”
“Yeah, figured you could do with a scarf or something.” Jack tried to keep the edge of worry out of his voice.
This time, it was a red shape Jack saw, something disappearing around the bend ahead of him as if it was guiding him. He had a fix now too, on the alien technology, about 400 metres ahead.
Something drifted to the floor in front of him and he bent down to pick it up, running the iridescent green feather through his fingers. What had Ianto said about a feathered serpent?
“Ianto?”
“Nope, this is his answering machine. Ianto’s lost in an Aztec temple right now, so please leave a message after the…”
“Ianto!”
“Sorry.”
“Stay put, I’m getting a very strong reading from some alien technology. I’m going to look for it.”
“Okay.”
***
Ianto was about to slump down with his back against the nearest wall, when he heard something. It sounded like; giggling?
“Hello,” he said, “anyone there?”
Something ran past him, something human shaped, and darted around the corner.
Nervously, Ianto thought on Jack’s comment about the wool, and wondered how much thread he could get out of his shirt. He was about to start picking at it when he set down his backpack, dug around a little, and found the survival kit at the bottom. Grinning, Ianto removed the twine, knotted it around a small block, and set off in the direction the figure had run.
He was distressingly close to the end of the thread when he saw the figure, huddled against the wall. A pair of blue eyes looked up at him from beneath a tangled mess of light hair. Ianto kept his gun aimed, but he let the light from his torch hit the ground just by their feet, unwilling to blind them.
“Hello?” he said.
It occurred to Ianto this was probably one of the missing archaeologists The only one he remembered being light haired from the reports was the American; Lindsay Renshaw.
“My name’s Ianto Jones,” he said, quietly, “Doctor Renshaw?”
The blue eyes widened, and the woman lifted her head. She dragged her hands through her hair and batted at the air.
“No, go away. Go away,” she said, and laughed wildly, “Lynny’s not talking to you any more.”
Insane, then, Ianto thought. “Doctor Renshaw? It’s okay. I’m here to help.”
She shuddered, and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, this time her voice calm, “I don’t think I’ve slept in three days and I keep jumping at shadows. I figured you for another hallucination.”
She got slowly to her feet, stepping warily forward and reaching out to pat Ianto on the arm, “You feel real enough.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m real.” he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“How did you get in?” she asked then, urgently. “The entrance was blocked by aftershocks.”
“There was nothing blocking it when we came through.” Ianto explained.
“There’re more of you?”
“My colleague, Jack. He’s…” possibly completely lost… “checking out another part of the complex.”
She twitched, “It’s easy to get lost down here, in the dark. I haven’t had light for…days. Your mind plays tricks…”
“I noticed.” Ianto tugged on the twine just be sure it was still attached. It was still taut in his fingers. “I’m pretty sure I can get us back to the…main chamber.” he didn’t want to say tomb.
Lindsay shivered, “Did you find Rosa?”
Ianto nodded grimly.
“She went mad,” Lindsay said, quietly. “We all did.”
***
Jack had stumbled over the third body. The archaeologist was lying in a pool of coagulated blood, and the rats had chewed at the chest wound. Shaking his head Jack identified Paul Santos-Cavelle and continued deeper into the temple.
He found a staircase, and gingerly felt his way down the rotting wood to the lower level. He had very little knowledge of this time although, he’d once taken a fancy to visiting and mentioned it to the Doctor. The Doctor had paused broodingly just long enough to say ‘been there, twice.’ Jack had never mentioned it again. What little he did know didn’t tell him if this layout was normal, but he knew the human effort required to generate this many giant obsidian mirrors would have been incredible.
If it had in fact been a human effort.
He found the remnants of the alien ship entombed in its own chamber, the slick metal surface dark and glossy in a way not unlike the mirrors. Around it, there was a deep - if jumpable - trench, although the ground beneath the ship was loose and the ship itself was listing into the ditch. Still, the origin of the rift effect was apparent enough. Around the ship, the air visibly distorted; bending the light of his torch and in places, refracting it into rainbow ripples.
Jack leapt the trench on the side away from the distortion. It was a small vessel, a single pilot ship with - looking at the engines, one almost torn from its housing, the other warped and distorted- limited time jump capability. Jack had seen plenty of vortex-damaged ships in his time and this one bore the classic signs of such. He guessed it had been caught in some kind of temporal explosion, and Jack had his suspicions about the origin of such an incident. The Time War couldn’t have been kind to those caught on the periphery.
The ship itself, though? He wasn’t sure of its class or place of origin. Checking further, Jack realised the wreck had skewed in the earthquake; bringing its two badly damaged engines into alignment with themselves, creating a distortion effect and opening a rift between times. It wouldn’t be hard to resolve, simply remove either of their fuel cells; the problem was reaching into the flux-field to fix it. Most humans couldn’t pass through 500 years intact. Jack could;but it was going to hurt like hell.
“Ianto?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“I found the problem.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes.” Best not to tell him I’ll be aging and regenerating my arm through 500 years.
“I’ve found something too. Or, more of a someone. Doctor Renshaw. She’s okay…I think.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Jack was grateful he thought to turn off the microphone before he stuck his arm into the field.
***
Ianto had brought Lindsay back to the main chamber, and situated her where she couldn’t see the body of her colleague. She’d gratefully accepted his offer of food and water, but refused to sit down; instead she paced agitatedly between the two doorways. He’d asked her what happened, and in doing so, had launched her into a long, breathless exposition.
“We came down here the day after the earthquake. We didn’t go far into the temple, but far enough to realise there was something very different about this place. The friezes and murals depicted a battle between the Gods and at its end, the power of the feathered serpent falling to Earth. The Mexica tried to use his power against the Spaniards, here… see?”
Lindsay pulled a tattered notebook from inside her shirt, showing meticulous copies of the murals. Ianto tried to ignore the fact it appeared to be covered in blood.
“But it proved too dangerous,” Lindsay continued, her eyes for a moment going back to the mad stare. “Filled with visions of their own demise the priests sealed up the God-image, and then killed themselves so no one would be able to learn where it was.
“So; two days in we broke into the second chamber. It must have dislodged something because the way out was blocked, and we couldn’t get out. It’s crazy down here you know. And dark. We didn’t have much light you see; started to imagine things in the darkness. When it’s dark when you open your eyes, it’s impossible to tell if you’re still asleep…still dreaming.”
“It’s okay,” Ianto calmed. “You don’t have to keep talking about this.”
“Yes I do,” she said, “the dreams you have when you know what went on here… such horrors. History is real in the minds of those with the wit to understand it, and we did understand. We understood very well…”
***
The computer built into the vortex manipulator had finally worked something out about the registration of the wrecked ship, and it beeped to tell him. Manussan Empire. Jack looked down at the quetzal feather in his hand, and it flaked away into dust as he moved deeper into the flux-field. His nerves were on fire, dying and repairing as time twisted about him.
Feathered Serpent, he thought, as he wrapped his hand around the engine casing and pulled the fuel pod out of alignment. The ship shuddered. Serpents. Mirrors. Manussa.
Oh. Shit.
The Mara.
CHAPTER THREE
Ianto knew he should have known better. But Lindsay had been shaking so violently, he’d eventually holstered his gun and gently put his arm round her shoulders. It had taken seconds for her to turn from gibbering wreck to maniac, and now they were wrestling for the gun on the floor of the chamber. He had both size and mass in his favour, but she had her finger on the trigger. As his hand closed on her surprisingly strong wrist, a shot narrowly missed his ear, impacting against the rock behind him. It startled him enough that he lost his grip on her arm, and she pulled the gun up to her head, her hand trembling.
“Didn’t you wonder, about the priest? No, of course you didn’t, how could you? They fooled it, you see, fooled it by leaving the high priest in this chamber, all sealed in… but it wouldn’t be fooled again. No…. I’m the only one left… Just one left. Had to be one left but now it doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be me, you see. ”
“Don’t!”
His shout came too late, and her head snapped backwards, her body limp. As he rolled clear of the body, a shockwave rippled round the chamber, dislodging rocks from above. Ianto looked up.
“Bugger,” he said.
***
“How long have I been asleep?” Jack said, to the figure of Quetzalcoatl, who was perched on the hull of the ship and smiling at him. The God had taken the form of a man, chalk skinned and white clothed, with the plumes in his headdress and priest’s jewellery all in the same white.
“Long enough,” said Quetzalcoatl. “I suppose I should warn you that you are in my domain but I assume you’d figured that out already.”
“You are still a dream though. I can’t imagine your body has survived all these years.”
“True,” said Quetzalcoatl, then peered owlishly at him. “My, aren’t you an odd creature? Wrong, one might say.”
“It’s been said.” Jack feigned casualness.
“And not afraid of me, I see.”
“I know what you are. You’re wasting your time on me and I doubt you’ve much left.”
“True again,” said Quetzalcoatl. “But you’re not the only person here, are you.”
The image faded when Jack drew his first breath; but the threat did not.
***
For a second, Ianto wondered if he’d lost consciousness as the dust settled around him and he reached up to rub the sore spot on his head. Everything was still attached and functioning though, so he slowly climbed to his feet, activating the headset as he did so.
“Jack?”
“…Nt… ra…”
“Jack?”
“Don’t … where you….. don’t let your….”
Something was wrong with the comm. Ianto found himself leaning back against the dead priest’s bier, jumping forward as his fingers brushed the bones. He whirled again as he heard the sound of rattles and bells, finding himself briefly face to face with the smiling face of a pasty white God. The appearance was fleeting, and was followed by the rasping sound of a snake moving over rough ground.
Ianto retrieved his gun. The sound of a laugh echoed in his mind. He closed his eyes against the confusing mirror images and the eerie light of the glow sticks. He tried to think of something simple and pleasant, or indeed, anything other than the place he was right now.
Sunset, over Cardiff Bay.
He thought he heard Jack calling him from the edge of the chamber, but when he looked up, the image was as brief and as transitory as everything else had been.
He was starting to wonder if he was going mad.
Right, Ianto thought. No more of this. Jack had told him to stay put but he needed to see daylight. He really needed to see daylight, and the entrance they had come through was a calm, unreflective point of quiet.
In fact, if he was this twitchy, jumping at shadows, his staying here was a liability.
“Iant… don’t….. vitally important you don’t ….”
Don’t lose it, his mind filled in.
Don’t stay here, Ianto’s mind whispered to him. If you stay here you’ll just remember…
He looked up. Jack was standing by the exit, smiling.
***
Jack stumbled through the mirrored passageways, aware that around him the corridors were blurring into one. Ianto wasn’t responding to his contacts; he could only hope that something was getting through. He came to a blind end, realised he had become hopelessly turned around again, cursing as he tried to work out how to get back to the central chamber. This maze might have been created to thwart the Mara, but now it was working very effectively against him.
The Mara needed a human vessel to escape. Why the archaeologist had proven unacceptable Jack didn’t know. Maybe the Mara was just playing with him, but it wasn’t a chance Jack could take. What he had to do now, somehow, was persuade Ianto not to leave the temple, once he could find him.
A feline growl made him turn, as the jaguar crossed the passage ahead of him, swinging its head towards him for a moment, sniffing the air curiously.
“Really,” Jack said, hand on his gun. “Don’t.” Which was when he realised the jaguar probably had a far better idea of how to get around down here than he did.
The jaguar moved on, and Jack followed. It faded from view a few corners on, but Jack had found his bearings again. Left, left, and right… finally.
Jack pulled up just short of the main chamber. He could see Ianto, leaning up against the central platform, looking around him. He was looking troubled and edgy, glancing around himself. When Jack stepped into the chamber, Ianto looked directly at him for a moment, then blinked and looked away. Jack crossed the room, standing in front of Ianto and waving his hand in front of his face. Ianto ignored him.
Shaking his head, Jack stood physically in front of him. Ianto still seemed to be listening to the headset, and Jack tried to reach him that way, although the signal was still breaking. “Ianto, don’t trust your senses. It’s vitally important you don’t leave”
***
Ianto noticed Jack coming into the chamber and hid his relief as best he could. “You’re all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Jack replied, “I found the problem. It was a ship, damaged and entombed here. I’ve turned it off, and set it to self destruct, so we need to leave now.”
“The archaeologist… shot herself.” Ianto gestured at the body.
Jack looked down, his lips pursed in thought. “Something was buried with the ship, something that drove them mad.”
Ianto felt a momentary tug of something in the back of his mind. Don’t trust your senses. It’s vitally important we don’t leave. It almost sounded as if it was coming through the headset, but why would Jack be using the headset if he was right here?
He wanted to leave, didn’t he? He took a long breath. “Right. Good. Let’s go.”
Don’t leave.
“Jack,” Ianto said, “are you hearing anything on the headset?”
“Turn it off,” Jack said. “The thing that’s down here is trying to stop us leaving. It’s trying to make you hear things that aren’t here.”
That made sense. The thing didn’t want to be caught in an explosion, and Ianto would rather he wasn’t as well. He reached up to switch off the earpiece.
***
For a moment, Jack thought he’d gotten through to him, when Ianto ran his finger thoughtfully along the mike. But he realised Ianto was still mostly focused on something that wasn’t there.
“Jack, are you hearing things on the headset?” Ianto cocked his head slightly, listening to a conversation Jack couldn’t hear. After a moment, he reached up again, his hand lingering on the off switch.
“Ianto, listen to me.” Jack could hear his voice take on an edge of desperation, “Whatever you’re looking at, it isn’t me. Listen to this voice…No….Ianto. Don’t turn it off. Don’t. It’s making you see things, because it wants you to leave.”
Ianto hesitated.
“Yes!” Jack said. “That’s it. Ignore it. Stay where you are and listen to me.”
His heart sank when Ianto turned off the device, and slipped it into his pocket. It was time for a more positive action. He bodily stepped in front of Ianto and put his hands on his shoulders. At this Ianto stopped still.
“It touched me,” Ianto said. “It’s here, in front of me.”
Jack stepped in closer, his hand gripping Ianto’s shoulder. Come on!
“It feels pretty solid for something that’s in my mind,” Ianto said.
“That’s because I’m real,” Jack said. “Come on, Ianto. Think.”
Ianto settled his features into a frown and looked at the person Jack couldn’t see. “How do I know you’re not trying to get me to leave because you’re the thing that’s trapped here?”
***
Ianto was desperately trying to make sense of this. What had Lindsay said? It only needs one and now it doesn’t have to be me? There were the other archaeologists that had shot themselves, as well. Ianto’s initial assumption had been that it had been to stop the images. He’d experienced them for mere hours and not several days and they were already making him crazy. But why, so close to the entrance, in sight of escape and daylight?
“How do I know you’re not trying to get me to leave because you’re the thing that’s trapped here?” Ianto asked.
“Ianto, the place is about to be blown to atoms!” Jack seemed to grow impatient.
“I’d rather,” said Ianto, surprised by the strength he was finding in his voice, “be blown to atoms than risk letting something loose out there. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave me to die alone in here, but I’ll understand if you’d rather leave.”
Jack scowled at him. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you die. Ignore what the archaeologist said. They were insane; it’s what this place does. It’s crazy talk, Ianto. Haven’t we seen enough of that?”
Ianto looked up, something slipping into place. As it did, he began to be aware of a presence close to him. Close and familiar. Funny how that feeling of familiarity was somehow...missing...from the Jack who stood in front of him. “I never told you the archaeologist said anything.”
The figure of Jack scowled again, shifting instead to the figure of a man in white, decked out with the full regalia of a priest of Quetzalcoatl. At that same moment, Jack -a real and solid Jack- came into focus crouched at Ianto’s shoulder.
“You haven’t won anything,” Quetzalcoatl said, with a smile, and vanished, leaving just Ianto and Jack in the chamber.
Ianto stared at the air for a moment, before he looked across at Jack for confirmation and explanation.
Jack grinned at him, “Nice work. Thought I’d lost you for a minute there.”
“Thought I’d lost myself,” Ianto said, thinking that was possibly the truest thing he had ever said. “What was that?”
“A Mara,” Jack said. “Nightmare creature. They live on hate, greed and fear.”
“Picked a great place for it.” Ianto looked round at the tomb, and its increasing number of dead inhabitants.
“They have that knack.” Jack also glanced around them.
“Is it gone?” Ianto asked hopefully, part of him knowing the answer already.
At this, Jack sucked in a breath and Ianto took that immediately to mean ‘no’. “I doubt it. The seed of them gets inside you and it stays there, controlling and manipulating.”
Ianto looked down at his feet, and scratched his head, heavy with the realisation. “It’s inside me, isn’t it?”
“It made a try for me but I think something about me disagrees with it,” Jack replied. “So it went for you. You’ve fought it off for now, but they tend to hang around, literally like a bad dream.”
“How did it get in?” .
“They get in while you sleep.” Jack swung his torch upwards to the glinting dream-catcher above the priest’s bier.
“I haven’t slept. Oh.” He put his hand up to the slight cut on his head, which had started to throb. “I think I may have lost a moment or two when the earthquake hit.”
He inclined his head so Jack could briefly inspect the wound. “Nothing gone you’ll miss,” was Jack’s report.
“Reassuring,” Ianto said, deadpan. “So, how do we get it out?”
“They can’t bear their own reflection,” Jack said, quietly. “When it got stranded here, the Aztecs must have figured it out, probably accidentally.”
“Tezcatlipoca trapping Quetzalcoatl in his mirror?”
Jack nodded. “So they trapped the Mara in here, surrounded by mirrors. It would have stayed trapped, too, losing the last of its mental energy until it simply ceased to be, if it hadn’t been for that earthquake.
“The earthquake caused a release of energy from the ship, sparking a rift. The terror of several Aztec warriors transported through 500 years was probably enough to give it a new lease of life. When the archaeologists broke through into this chamber, they shattered one of the mirrors, offering it a way out. If it had made it to a civilised area we’d lose all chance of dealing with it.”
“Why didn’t it just leave through one of them as soon as it could?”
“That I don’t know,” Jack said. “Maybe it was just too weak to maintain its hold.”
But I am not nearly so weak now, Ianto Jones.
“So, if the mirrors are reinstated?”
“I turned off the rift, so, if it was trapped again it would run out of energy and die. Finally.”
I cannot die.
“Then that’s what you have to do,” Ianto said, although saying it was making him feel sick. “They trapped it in the priest, and they trapped it in here 500 years ago. If you seal me up…”
“No,” Jack said.
“Jack, I can hear it. It’s talking to me.”
“Don’t listen.”
Jack’s face began to crack, spilling maggots from the deep, red gashes. Ianto scrabbled backwards on reflex, talking to himself. “It’s a dream,” he mumbled. “It’s a bad dream.”
The sick feeling lingered though, and something was coming for him. Something he couldn’t see but knew was just there in the shadows, waiting for him. He tried to move but found himself paralysed. Willing himself to wake up, he couldn’t make his hand move.
If he could just make his hand move he’d be safe…
“I…can’t wake up,” Ianto said, panicked.
Jack pushed him down onto his back and looked him in the eyes, “Yes, you can.”
“Oh God,” said Ianto, as the images started to fade and he felt he could move again. He wrapped his arms round Jack’s shoulders, just to prove he could.
“See?” said Jack, “it’s okay. We’ll find a way to deal with this.” Jack pulled back to let Ianto sit up, only reaching for him again one he was upright.
Ianto closed his eyes again as Jack’s fingers brushed roughly against his cheek and lifted him into a kiss. Ianto returned it, savouring the familiar feel. “Jack…” he began, cut off as a sudden stabbing pain caught his chest. He looked down as Jack slipped the obsidian knife deeper between his ribs.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, his eyes full of tears. “It’s the only way.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Ianto!” Jack was looking at him, one hand on Ianto’s shoulder, the other far enough back from his cheek that Ianto knew he was about to be on the receiving end of a slap. The low orange glow of the lights was casting frightening shadows, and Ianto edged away, trying to find anything he could see to cling onto.
“Ianto, it’s okay.” Jack sounded almost reassuring.
Ianto shook his head, “No. No it isn’t! God Jack what if this is still a dream?”
Ianto saw something on the ground. His gun. He picked it up.
“She was right,” he said, “if I’m dead and it can’t use you…”
“Ianto, don’t.”
“But then, maybe it can use you. Maybe it wants to confuse me, so you can get away.”
“If it could use me it would have walked out of here and you’d be none the wiser.”
“Then, if I’m dead it...” Ianto turned the gun in his hands. It felt awkward, this pointing the wrong way. But he was clear, suddenly; unafraid. The trembling in his hands stopped. One shot and it would be over.
Jack barrelled him into the wall before he could raise the gun high enough to fire. This time Jack bodily pinned him, no reassuring hand on his shoulder but an arm pressed across his neck. The gun skidded across the floor where Jack threw it. Ianto started shaking again as he heard laughter echo around the chamber, followed by the rustling of feathers and the slither of scales.
“Jack, please,” Ianto pleaded.
“No,” said Jack, resolutely, “I won’t let you until we know there is no other way.”
***
Jack stood, pinning Ianto against the wall, breathing hard. If it came to it he’d put one bullet through the back of Ianto’s head while he wasn’t even looking. He had no intention of Ianto’s last memory being one of fear.
He was trying to remember everything he knew about the Mara; everything he’d heard. Something about a ‘still point’… was that right? It had been a long time ago and the Agency had been almost as good at nightmares as the Mara were. Still points; the absence of fear…
“Ianto, every time you’ve broken the control of the Mara, what have I been doing?” Jack asked with a flash of inspiration.
“You got through on the radio. You had your hand on my shoulder when I thought I was talking to you. When you let go I started dreaming again… until you had hold and slapped me…”
“And now?”
“It’s…” Ianto looked thoughtful, “It’s still around but I…”
“Yes!” Jack said, and grinned. Not sure how much of a lead this is, but it’s something and it will do for now.
“Yes?” Ianto appeared confused but he hid the fear well.
“Something the Doctor said once, about me being a fixed point. That and an old Manussan legend. I think so long as I’m touching you it can’t maintain control.”
“Great,” Ianto said, dourly, “can we leave so long as we’re holding hands?”
“It would still make you get away from me first chance it got. And besides, they can spread from mind to mind, as soon as you were near anyone else it would find a way out.”
“So, we’re back to square one.”
“We need to find a way to drive it out, need to find a way of stopping you being afraid AND in close contact with me.”
Ianto looked at Jack, his eyes slightly wide. “Are you suggesting we...?”
“No.” Jack just had to smile a little at that.
“Good,” said Ianto, “because I have dreams like that and I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference.”
Behind Ianto, in the mirror, Jack could see someone reflected, standing where the dead priest lay. He was dressed in red, a dark black line across his eyes. He held up a smoky obsidian mirror, creating the briefest of dark and infinite space where the two mirrors reflected only each other.
When Jack turned his head, he saw nothing. “I know about the mirrors,” he said, “but what are you trying to tell me?”
“Jack, who are you talking to?”
“The other one; Tezcatliwhatsisface.”
“Forgive me if I’m a little worried about that.”
“I think we have a secret ally,” Jack said. Because someone or something stopped the archaeologists leaving.
Jack grabbed Ianto by the scruff of the neck and half dragged him over to the priest’s platform. A carving of a jaguar looked out at him with jade green eyes. Carefully, and without breaking contact with Ianto, Jack ran his hand around the base of the bier, finding a loose block. He tugged at it, pulling it free and making an opening big enough to look through. Inside, bundled in fragments of red cloth, was another body, clutching a small obsidian disk. With a smile, Jack eased it free. Step one. Thank you, Tezcatlipoca.
***
Ianto made himself as comfortable as he could, sitting on the cold floor of the chamber. Jack’s plan, which appeared to involve entering some kind of hypnotic state, revolved around Ianto finding a point of calm and stillness which would drive out the Mara.
“If anyone in human history ever knew how to manage their emotional state it would be you,” Jack had said, before hanging the new found smoky mirror just above Ianto’s head.
Now, Jack sat in front of him, gently running his thumb over Ianto’s fingers and dropped his voice to a whisper that in any other circumstance would have sent Ianto running for a cold shower. Here, though, Ianto simply listened.
“Remember,” Jack said, “it has no physical form, so it’s going to try and make you afraid. That’s where it lives and grows; in fear. If we remove that fear, it’s got nowhere to run to.
“What it shows you will seem very real, but it’s just an illusion; a bad dream. The only things here that are real are you and me. Don’t let it drag you into a game; all it’s trying to do is stop you being calm.”
Ianto nodded, “Right.”
Jack tipped up his chin, and Ianto found himself looking into his eyes. “If you start feeling afraid, that can’t hurt you either. Say it.” Jack prompted.
“Fear can’t hurt me.” Ianto replied without feeling.
“Say it like you mean it.” Jack demanded.
This time, Ianto tried to feel the words. “Fear… can’t… hurt me.”
“Now,” Jack said, “breathe with me.”
In… hold… out… hold. In… hold… out… hold. Jack’s eyes never left his.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Whatever happens, Ianto, I am right here.”
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Something shifted in Ianto’s subconscious, something uncoiling. Something that knew what he was doing and didn’t like it. No, Ianto thought. No you will not do this to me. “Jack it’s moving…”
“It will.” Jack said. “I’m right here. Keep breathing with me.”
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Ianto was suddenly and completely alone in darkness. He took a sharp breath, in fear, his heart slamming against his chest in response.
No, he thought, it’s not real; I’m not alone here. He closed his eyes and took two long breaths, before settling back into a slow breathing rhythm, confident Jack was breathing with him.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” asked Quetzalcoatl. “You can’t stake your small human intellect against me for long.”
“I don’t have to,” Ianto replied, calmly. He offered Quetzalcoatl a tight smile.
Quetzalcoatl shook his bells at him. “You talk a good fight, but I’m more subtle than you give me credit for.”
Ianto wavered, for a moment. “I’m not listening. La la la.”
Quetzalcoatl tilted his head to one side. “No? Then I shall save my breath until you want to talk.”
Ianto was alone again in nowhere. He sat down on nothing, which surely made it something, and went back to breathing.
After one hundred breaths, he started to think. He tried to think of something pleasant. Sunset, over Cardiff bay. He allowed himself a smile. This isn’t so hard.
Sunset, hand in hand with Jack. See. That was pleasant too. Nothing to fear, there.
Jack, cold and lifeless in the Torchwood cold storage.
No. Not so pleasant. Something else, quickly. Something else… Owen. Snarky bastard Owen would no doubt have something to say on the subject of being stuck in the dark with a snake-god. Ianto chuckled to himself, hearing only the sound transferred through his own body.
Owen was dead. Shot. Right in front of him. Ianto tried slap himself, and realised he couldn’t actually feel anything.
Maybe he was dead, too. Maybe this was what death was. Maybe that’s why Jack was always asking what was on the other side. This. With nothing but memories and dreams. No distractions, no waking up.
The dreams you have when you know what went on here.
He started to shake, as that possibility sank in. Nothing, forever
No. He scrabbled for his thoughts again. Jack was with him. Breathing. He could feel it, if he tried, breathing linking them together even if he couldn’t see him.
Breathe in. Breathe out. One.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Two.
Ianto reached three hundred and eight before he lost count. He thought he heard a laugh as he resolved himself to starting again.
“Go away,” Ianto said, “I’m counting. One. Two.”
The blackness was suddenly replaced by a blindingly bright day-scape, the whitewashed walls of Tenochtitlan stretching out before him in front of his vantage point. He was standing on top of the temple, the snake writhing around his legs.
“Then count the dead,” it rasped.
One by one, captives filed past him; some crying, some silent, some smiling. One by one; their hearts were torn out through the shards of their chests, great stains of blood spreading around Ianto’s feet and spilling down the temple steps.
Breathe in. Breathe out. “Three”.
“You missed one!” Quetzalcoatl hissed. “Eight, seventy six, twelve.”
Ianto sat down. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Four.”
“I can shatter your mind. I can make you relive every horror you have ever seen, forever.”
Don’t listen. It’s not real. “Five.”
He was holding the shattered, bloody remains of a cyber-helmet in his hands. He felt nothing. “Six.”
“He’s going to leave you.”
You’re getting desperate, aren’t you? “Seven.”
“It only takes the slightest doubt, you know, the tiniest little doubt.” A shower of feathers drifted down on Ianto, turning to dust as they fell.
“Eight.”
The bells rattled furiously. Quetzalcoatl-the-man stomped and gestured… and was gone. Ianto paid no attention.
“Nine.”
Ianto became aware; the ground, hard against his arse, the warm, stale air. Jack’s hand, closed tightly around his own, their breathing synchronised. Blue eyes; looking into his, unblinking. Above him, a slight breeze caught the mirror and it cast flickers of light around the chamber. It was almost like lying in bed on a sunny morning; no need to get up, just to lie there awake, content to watch shadows on the walls.
“Ten,” he finished.
“Ianto?”
This was the real Jack, Ianto had no doubt. “Yes.”
When Jack leaned in to kiss him, Ianto sensed rather than saw the gun in Jack’s other hand. Another time he might have felt stung by the betrayal, but this made perfect sense and he felt no fear. He gently ran his hand down to Jack’s wrist and angled the weapon towards himself.
“It’s all right,” Ianto said, “I understand. Kiss me and have done with it.”
Jack kissed him, but there was no shot.
“I had to be sure,” Jack whispered into his ear. “Make sure it was gone.”
“For making me think you were going to kill me, you can kiss me again.”
Jack laughed, and Ianto realised how much he liked the sound. “You can have all the kissing you want when we’re out of here.”
“Not arguing with that,” Ianto said, starting to get to his feet. His legs cramped and he stood awkwardly. Jack, never once letting go, slid his hand round Ianto’s waist to support him. He hesitated for a moment, looking at their reflection in the murky depths of the obsidian walls, calm but uncertain.
“It’s gone.” said Jack. He reached up to catch hold of the small hanging mirror, pulling it from its thread to show it to Ianto. “It’s trapped.”
Deep inside the disc, the pale and fading figure of a plumed snake writhed helplessly around itself. Ianto looked at it for a long moment, his fingers closing round Jack’s hand. Jack tightened his grip, and Ianto quelled the slight revulsion he felt looking at the thing. “I am never sleeping again,” he said. “What do we do with this?”
“I was thinking we give it back to the person who owns it,” Jack said, indicating the second priest’s remains.
”And when the next group of curious archaeologists come this way?”
Jack looked thoughtful for a minute, then reached into the pack to produce explosives. “I think we make it a little too much effort to get in, stop anyone who tries, and let nature bury this mystery for another 500 years.”
Ianto nodded. When he got back to the Hub he was going to make sure monitoring this place was one of his very own special projects. Still careful not to let go of Jack - he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that any time soon- Ianto placed the disk back among the bones of Tezcatlipoca.
They made short work of placing the charges, both eager to leave, and eventually pausing at the narrow entrance for one last look at the chamber. It was darkening, as the last of the light in the glow-sticks faded and Ianto suppressed a shiver.
“Ready to go?” Jack asked.
Ianto nodded. “Definitely.”
“Let’s go.”
“Wait…” Ianto took a few steps back, with Jack patiently holding on to his hand, and leant down to reclaim his hat from where it still lay in the dust. He brushed it off, settled it squarely on his head and then smiled. “There.”
“You know, when I get you somewhere private,” Jack said, pushing Ianto through the gap ahead of him and out into the white-washed corridor. “You can leave the hat on.”
***
Epilogue
“I hate to mention it,” said Ianto, looking quickly over his shoulder as they jogged away from the detonation in the chambers below, “but you remember those five very confused Aztec warriors that wanted to tear our hearts out?”
“Hum?” said Jack.
“Do you think they’ve changed their minds?”
Jack glanced back and then resolutely increased his speed. “I doubt it.”
“Thought not,” Ianto said drily, and broke into a run. “Don’t suppose you have a plan?”
“I’m working on it,” said Jack.
Nothing, Ianto thought, as he overtook Jack and made it into the tree-line first, was ever easy.
FIN.
Author Name: Anonymous
Original Prompt Number: 118
Pairing(s): Jack / Ianto
Summary: Jack and Ianto investigate an Aztec temple and stumble onto an ancient evil.
Rating: 15 to be safe
Disclaimer: This is a work of fan-fiction and is written as a tribute to the show. Torchwood, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones belong to the BBC, and not to me.
Warnings: Nothing extreme. Some death and violent images.
Word Count: 9,000 words approx.
Author's Notes: The title means Dream-snake in (rough) Nahuatl, the language of the Aztecs. Here’s where I also make a nod to Classic Who for at least some of the inspiration!
Beta: K, (above and beyond the call of duty! Thank you so much) with thanks also to J and B.
Mods: The formatting on the fic has been fixed. Our apologies - don't know what happened when we were posting this, but everything should now be fine. Again, our apologies to you, the readers, and to the mystery author!
CHAPTER ONE
Nothing, Ianto thought, was ever easy.
The branches that kept smacking into his face threatened to blind him, but frankly, that was the least of Ianto’s problems. Up ahead, Jack was a blur of light blue, dodging through the undergrowth ahead of him.
“What was it they’d do to us is they caught us again?” Ianto asked; his chest burning as he just managed to catch up with Jack. It wasn’t that he thought he could spare the breath to talk; more that he felt the need to remind himself exactly why they couldn’t stop.
“Rip your still-beating heart out of your chest,” Jack replied casually.
Oh right, yes. That was it. “Thought so,” Ianto said with equal ease. “Do we have a plan?”
“Working on it,” Jack shot back, not rising to the bait.
“Oh. That’s good, because for a minute I thought we were in trouble.”
Ianto’s hat caught on one of the branches and he snatched it back reflexively. The short battle caused him to slow a little. Ahead, he saw Jack also slowing, allowing Ianto to come even with his shoulder.
“What kept you?” asked Jack, biting back a smile.
Ianto waved the fedora in Jack’s general direction.
“Didn’t I tell you not to wear that?” Jack questioned him with a raised eyebrow.
“You told me not to wear it…for anyone else,” Ianto said continuing to look straight ahead.
Ahead, the trees had thinned out and behind them their pursuers appeared to have fallen back. Rising in the centre of the clearing, covered with undergrowth, was the remnants of a step pyramid. It matched almost exactly, the blurry image that had brought them here in the first place.
“I said I’d come up with a plan,” said Jack, this time not hiding the smile.
Behind them, rustling and voices signalled the men following them weren’t far behind.
“Given that they seem to be chasing us towards the temple with a view to sacrificing us,” Ianto said, “your plan is to give them what they want?”
Jack looked down at his wrist device, “The rift readings are coming from the pyramid.” he gestured at the stone steps, “If we’re going to find out what’s going on in there, and maybe stop it, it’s where we need to be.”
“If we can do that in such a way as I keep all my internal organs…” Ianto said, as he fell into step behind Jack.
***
A week prior, two things had happened. An Earthquake had rippled through central Mexico, dislodging enough of the rubble and plant growth to reveal the temple entrance to the archaeological survey team in the area. Second and simultaneously; the rift monitors back at the hub had gone crazy, notifying Torchwood of distant temporal activity. Reports had been sporadic at first, little oddities dismissed in the more pressing need of the quake’s effects in Mexico City. Eventually though, repeated stories of unusual sightings had filtered out of the region. The archaeologists had stopped transmitting data four days ago, and five reports of ‘men dressed as Aztec warriors’ who were ‘wreaking bloodthirsty havoc’ had fallen across Jack’s desk.
This had left Jack with a problem. Gwen was two weeks away from getting married, and Owen was, at the very least, mostly dead. He wasn’t in a position to send either of them to Mexico. The very last thing Jack wanted to do was rely on UNIT for help. Particularly when alien technology had been satellite-identified at the site. Jack had decided he and Ianto would make the trek, despite Tosh’s quiet protestations. He’d needed her at the Hub providing support for both he and Ianto, as well as Owen and Gwen on the domestic front. So, Jack had left them with a list of important phone numbers, a detailed list of instructions that all started with ‘in the event of’, and he and Ianto had caught the next flight to Central Mexico.
That flight had been interesting. Funny how they’d ended up with seats in first class.
Back in the present, Jack settled on examining the remains of the archaeologists’ camp. Equipment was strewn about; tents were damaged, finds trays overturned, but there was nothing that might account for their disappearance here on the surface. He’d been half expecting to find them with their hearts torn out, and the fact he hadn’t meant solving this puzzle had just become a little more difficult. Jack looked up at the broken steps that lead to the top of the pyramid and squinted into the sun. From his current location, he couldn’t tell if anything had happened up there recently.
“According to this,” Ianto said, looking down at the scanner Tosh had entrusted to his care, “the entrance should be round about ...”
Jack took that moment to find the entrance to the temple by falling into a hole.
It wasn’t far to fall and the landing barely knocked the wind out of him. Quickly dusting off his shirt, he looked up to see Ianto’s concerned face looking down at him from the edge of the hole.
“Are you all right?” Ianto asked, worriedly.
“I’m fine,” Jack called back up, “although I’d suggest you come down more carefully.”
A rope appeared a few moments later, then Ianto tentatively stepped backwards over the edge, easing his way carefully down the side of the pit. Not a bad view, Jack mused.
Jack caught Ianto at the bottom, holding him briefly, “You know, that leather jacket suits you,” he said with a smile, brushing debris off the collar. “Still not sure about the hat.” He followed his tidying efforts with a rough kiss.
Ianto tipped the hat back for a moment’s better access, then turned his head away abruptly from the kiss and looked down at his feet. He pulled the torch from his pocket and shone it on the ground near where they stood, revealing a pale, upturned hand.
They both took a step back from the corpse.
The dead man lay against the slope, partly concealed by stone blocks. Jack switched on his own torch, the sudden extra light disturbing other inhabitants of the hole. Insects scuttled back into the shadows, and a rat scurried over the chest of the body as Jack tracked his torch over it. A single bullet wound smeared the chin of the corpse with blood, the greater mass of gore spilled from the exit wound. Jack crouched down; looking at the gun laying centimetres from the cadaver’s other hand.
Ianto had drawn his gun and now he aimed it, and his torch, towards the dark maw of the temple. He cast his eye over the body, but kept his weapon and his torch towards the as yet unknown depths.
“Suicide?” Ianto suggested.
“Looks like.”
Jack was no stranger to forms of death. He estimated this death had occurred 48 hours ago, which made it even less pleasant to search the pockets of the dead body for identification. The papers he found were for one Miguel Castille; a missing archaeologist.
Jack knew Ianto was watching him, saying nothing, but obviously thinking the same thing as Jack. What’s down here that made an archaeologist shoot himself?
Jack got to his feet, checked his own gun, and looked into the blackness ahead. A pair of cats’ eyes glinted in the beam from his torch, a low growl sounding ahead of them in the darkness.
“What’s that?” Ianto said.
“Jaguar?” Jack suggested, He threw a stone in the direction of the animal, unwilling to kill it out of hand. With another growl it paced silently away, disappearing into the shadows. “It will probably leave us alone, but don’t let your guard down. Ready?”
Ianto nodded his assent. Let’s do this.
***
The small chamber they were in; Ianto guessed was not really a chamber at all, just given the appearance of one by centuries of tree roots growing through the blocks above, opened into what seemed to be part of the temple proper. He trailed the light of his torch along the walls as Jack searched ahead.
The light caught something red; Ianto’s first thought was blood, sending his heart racing, but it turned out to be paint. It was bright paint, protected from the elements for several centuries by its subterranean location. He caught Jack’s arm, pointing the images out to him. “Some kind of mural,” Ianto said, mostly to himself, “depictions of a God. Tezcatlipoca, I think. Yep, there’s the mirror.”
Seeing Jack’s quizzical expression Ianto asked, “What? I read up before I came.”
Jack tried out the unusual syllables, “So what’s Tez-catl-ipoca doing?”
“Fighting another God,” Ianto explained, “maybe Quetzalcoatl?” Ianto studied the images and then produced a small book from his pocket, holding it up for comparison. “Yes.”
“Anything else, Doctor Jones?” Jack grinned.
Ianto took a long moment to adjust his hat and voice to their most academic, “The two Gods are variously illustrated as enemies, or as variations on a theme, throughout Mexican history. The smoking mirror, Tezcatlipoca, and the feathered serpent, Quetzalcoatl.”
Jack looked down briefly at his wrist, eyeing the flickering readings with suspicion, “The focus of rift activity and the technology readings are both that way,” he pointed deeper into the temple.
Ianto nodded, “That way it is then.”
Jack took the lead. As Ianto followed, he was aware of the darkness closing behind them, even as the torches illuminated the way ahead. Stark white bones, thankfully none of them human, littered the passageway. The musty scent of a wild animal, Ianto assumed the jaguar, was heavy in the air. Every so often something crunched underfoot and Ianto tried hard not to think about what it might be.
More murals danced in the torchlight; vivid against the whitewashed stone blocks, two priests, one of each God. As Ianto turned to look again and comment on the details; something was irking him but he didn’t know what, something about the way they seemed to be telling a bloody story about Cortez’ men. Out of the corner of his eye, Ianto caught sight of something moving up in the tunnel. He whirled, training his gun and torch onto the spot and seeing only a grainy, reflective surface ahead.
“Whoa,” Jack said, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sudden glare of Ianto’s torch.
“Sorry,” Ianto caught his breath and lowered the light, “thought I saw something.”
Ahead, the passage had reached its end, terminating in a cracked slab of glassy volcanic rock. The torchlight and polished surface gave Jack and Ianto the illusion of ghosts, reflected in the smoky greys of the obsidian. To the left, a cracked edge and narrow opening offered a route beyond the wall.
“Shall we?” Jack’s voice was go-lucky, but there was just enough light to notice his eyes were dark with concern.
This probably wasn’t the time for Ianto to mention he was beginning to feel a little claustrophobic; so he buried it deep, funny how easy that became at Torchwood, and found humour instead. “Age before beauty,” he gestured for Jack to precede him.
“Some of us have both,” Jack retorted, and peered into the space.
“Careful,” Ianto said, “I don’t want you to get your ego stuck; it’s a very narrow gap.”
CHAPTER TWO
Grinning, Jack snapped a large glow-stick, throwing it ahead of him into the chamber. Satisfied there was room enough and no major hazards, he squeezed through the opening.
The light was brighter than he anticipated; the glow reflected back by twenty or so polished slabs, although the black-mirror surfaces were also darkly unsettling. He flicked his torch round the walls, and up at the ceiling, estimating its stability. Confident it seemed solid enough; he completed his trip into the room.
In the centre of the room was a raised platform, coming level with Jack’s hip. The shape of a body was easy to make out, decked in the regalia of one of the priest figures Ianto had pointed out on the wall. A closer inspection made it clear the man had long since turned to bones. Gold and green jewellery stood out against fragments of white fabric, even through the coating of dust, and Jack checked them, in case they were the source of the readings.
They weren’t.
As he turned, something brushed against Jack’s face, startling him so he ducked and rolled without thinking. Looking back to identify the threat, he saw something akin to a dream-catcher hanging above the skeleton. Jack laughed at himself for being spooked by a five hundred year old hippy decoration, and got to his feet.
“Looks okay,” Jack called back to Ianto, then caught sight of something that changed his mind. “No, hold it.”
From his new position, he could see another body, this one far more recent than the dusty remains on the platform. She, it was clearly a she, lay crumpled near another passageway. Jack put his hand against her neck, finding the skin icy cold and no signs of life. Grimacing, he turned the body over and heard the sound of a ‘tink’ against the floor. The knife clutched in the body’s hand slipped onto the floor, rocking slightly as it settled. There was no obvious sign of injury; the blood splattered across her front seemed not to be her own. As Jack went through her pockets, he identified her as Rosa Benitez. He made out a mottled pattern on her throat. Strangled?
He picked up the knife, recognising the dark smear on the obsidian blade as blood. Two dead. Not good.
“Jack?” Ianto had wormed his way into the chamber but hadn’t gone far from the entrance. He was looking up at the ceiling.
“Another body,” Jack said.
If Ianto had been going to reply to that, it was lost in the clear sound of something scuttling in the passageway beyond. Both men turned to the sound, guns raised and trained on the opening.
When nothing came through, Jack edged forward, quickly flashing the beam from his torchlight into the passageway. “Nothing,” he said, as he ducked back. “It seems to split into two corridors back that way, though, and they’re mirrored, same as here.”
Looking down again, Jack realised the alien readings lay down one of those corridors. He couldn’t tell which. “Stay right behind me,” he said, as he moved into the corridor.
***
Staying right behind Jack was easier said than done. The light was patchy and the smoky obsidian walls distorted Ianto’s sense of distance and perception. Turning at a sound he thought came from behind him, he caught the flash of a white figure dimly reflected in the mirrors.
“Jack?” Ianto whispered, “Did you see that?”
Getting no reply, he turned back to where Jack had been the moment before, finding only his own shadowy reflection against the wall. Ianto turned his head back, seeing no sign of the figure.
“Jack?” His hand went on reflex to his headset, “Jack?”
***
Jack turned his head, sure he’d had Ianto at his shoulder bare seconds before. He flicked his torch round the passageway, catching for a moment what seemed to be a white figure standing in his way. By the time he looked more closely, it was gone, if it had ever been there to begin with.
“Ianto?”
There was no reply, and Jack tapped at the earpiece, “Ianto? You there?”
“Jack?”
Jack breathed a sigh of relief when he heard Ianto’s reply, “Yes. What happened?”
“Don’t know. It’s the mirrors down here; I must have gotten turned around.”
Either that or the walls are moving, Jack thought, trying to retrace his steps and realising that the polished slabs were almost identical and angled slightly. The straight corridor he’d first seen was far from straight. “Stay where you are. I’ll come to you. We should have brought a ball of wool.”
“Fine by me,” Ianto said, “you were planning on doing some knitting?”
“Yeah, figured you could do with a scarf or something.” Jack tried to keep the edge of worry out of his voice.
This time, it was a red shape Jack saw, something disappearing around the bend ahead of him as if it was guiding him. He had a fix now too, on the alien technology, about 400 metres ahead.
Something drifted to the floor in front of him and he bent down to pick it up, running the iridescent green feather through his fingers. What had Ianto said about a feathered serpent?
“Ianto?”
“Nope, this is his answering machine. Ianto’s lost in an Aztec temple right now, so please leave a message after the…”
“Ianto!”
“Sorry.”
“Stay put, I’m getting a very strong reading from some alien technology. I’m going to look for it.”
“Okay.”
***
Ianto was about to slump down with his back against the nearest wall, when he heard something. It sounded like; giggling?
“Hello,” he said, “anyone there?”
Something ran past him, something human shaped, and darted around the corner.
Nervously, Ianto thought on Jack’s comment about the wool, and wondered how much thread he could get out of his shirt. He was about to start picking at it when he set down his backpack, dug around a little, and found the survival kit at the bottom. Grinning, Ianto removed the twine, knotted it around a small block, and set off in the direction the figure had run.
He was distressingly close to the end of the thread when he saw the figure, huddled against the wall. A pair of blue eyes looked up at him from beneath a tangled mess of light hair. Ianto kept his gun aimed, but he let the light from his torch hit the ground just by their feet, unwilling to blind them.
“Hello?” he said.
It occurred to Ianto this was probably one of the missing archaeologists The only one he remembered being light haired from the reports was the American; Lindsay Renshaw.
“My name’s Ianto Jones,” he said, quietly, “Doctor Renshaw?”
The blue eyes widened, and the woman lifted her head. She dragged her hands through her hair and batted at the air.
“No, go away. Go away,” she said, and laughed wildly, “Lynny’s not talking to you any more.”
Insane, then, Ianto thought. “Doctor Renshaw? It’s okay. I’m here to help.”
She shuddered, and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, this time her voice calm, “I don’t think I’ve slept in three days and I keep jumping at shadows. I figured you for another hallucination.”
She got slowly to her feet, stepping warily forward and reaching out to pat Ianto on the arm, “You feel real enough.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m real.” he gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“How did you get in?” she asked then, urgently. “The entrance was blocked by aftershocks.”
“There was nothing blocking it when we came through.” Ianto explained.
“There’re more of you?”
“My colleague, Jack. He’s…” possibly completely lost… “checking out another part of the complex.”
She twitched, “It’s easy to get lost down here, in the dark. I haven’t had light for…days. Your mind plays tricks…”
“I noticed.” Ianto tugged on the twine just be sure it was still attached. It was still taut in his fingers. “I’m pretty sure I can get us back to the…main chamber.” he didn’t want to say tomb.
Lindsay shivered, “Did you find Rosa?”
Ianto nodded grimly.
“She went mad,” Lindsay said, quietly. “We all did.”
***
Jack had stumbled over the third body. The archaeologist was lying in a pool of coagulated blood, and the rats had chewed at the chest wound. Shaking his head Jack identified Paul Santos-Cavelle and continued deeper into the temple.
He found a staircase, and gingerly felt his way down the rotting wood to the lower level. He had very little knowledge of this time although, he’d once taken a fancy to visiting and mentioned it to the Doctor. The Doctor had paused broodingly just long enough to say ‘been there, twice.’ Jack had never mentioned it again. What little he did know didn’t tell him if this layout was normal, but he knew the human effort required to generate this many giant obsidian mirrors would have been incredible.
If it had in fact been a human effort.
He found the remnants of the alien ship entombed in its own chamber, the slick metal surface dark and glossy in a way not unlike the mirrors. Around it, there was a deep - if jumpable - trench, although the ground beneath the ship was loose and the ship itself was listing into the ditch. Still, the origin of the rift effect was apparent enough. Around the ship, the air visibly distorted; bending the light of his torch and in places, refracting it into rainbow ripples.
Jack leapt the trench on the side away from the distortion. It was a small vessel, a single pilot ship with - looking at the engines, one almost torn from its housing, the other warped and distorted- limited time jump capability. Jack had seen plenty of vortex-damaged ships in his time and this one bore the classic signs of such. He guessed it had been caught in some kind of temporal explosion, and Jack had his suspicions about the origin of such an incident. The Time War couldn’t have been kind to those caught on the periphery.
The ship itself, though? He wasn’t sure of its class or place of origin. Checking further, Jack realised the wreck had skewed in the earthquake; bringing its two badly damaged engines into alignment with themselves, creating a distortion effect and opening a rift between times. It wouldn’t be hard to resolve, simply remove either of their fuel cells; the problem was reaching into the flux-field to fix it. Most humans couldn’t pass through 500 years intact. Jack could;but it was going to hurt like hell.
“Ianto?”
“Yes, Jack?”
“I found the problem.”
“Can you fix it?”
“Yes.” Best not to tell him I’ll be aging and regenerating my arm through 500 years.
“I’ve found something too. Or, more of a someone. Doctor Renshaw. She’s okay…I think.”
“Sit tight. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Jack was grateful he thought to turn off the microphone before he stuck his arm into the field.
***
Ianto had brought Lindsay back to the main chamber, and situated her where she couldn’t see the body of her colleague. She’d gratefully accepted his offer of food and water, but refused to sit down; instead she paced agitatedly between the two doorways. He’d asked her what happened, and in doing so, had launched her into a long, breathless exposition.
“We came down here the day after the earthquake. We didn’t go far into the temple, but far enough to realise there was something very different about this place. The friezes and murals depicted a battle between the Gods and at its end, the power of the feathered serpent falling to Earth. The Mexica tried to use his power against the Spaniards, here… see?”
Lindsay pulled a tattered notebook from inside her shirt, showing meticulous copies of the murals. Ianto tried to ignore the fact it appeared to be covered in blood.
“But it proved too dangerous,” Lindsay continued, her eyes for a moment going back to the mad stare. “Filled with visions of their own demise the priests sealed up the God-image, and then killed themselves so no one would be able to learn where it was.
“So; two days in we broke into the second chamber. It must have dislodged something because the way out was blocked, and we couldn’t get out. It’s crazy down here you know. And dark. We didn’t have much light you see; started to imagine things in the darkness. When it’s dark when you open your eyes, it’s impossible to tell if you’re still asleep…still dreaming.”
“It’s okay,” Ianto calmed. “You don’t have to keep talking about this.”
“Yes I do,” she said, “the dreams you have when you know what went on here… such horrors. History is real in the minds of those with the wit to understand it, and we did understand. We understood very well…”
***
The computer built into the vortex manipulator had finally worked something out about the registration of the wrecked ship, and it beeped to tell him. Manussan Empire. Jack looked down at the quetzal feather in his hand, and it flaked away into dust as he moved deeper into the flux-field. His nerves were on fire, dying and repairing as time twisted about him.
Feathered Serpent, he thought, as he wrapped his hand around the engine casing and pulled the fuel pod out of alignment. The ship shuddered. Serpents. Mirrors. Manussa.
Oh. Shit.
The Mara.
CHAPTER THREE
Ianto knew he should have known better. But Lindsay had been shaking so violently, he’d eventually holstered his gun and gently put his arm round her shoulders. It had taken seconds for her to turn from gibbering wreck to maniac, and now they were wrestling for the gun on the floor of the chamber. He had both size and mass in his favour, but she had her finger on the trigger. As his hand closed on her surprisingly strong wrist, a shot narrowly missed his ear, impacting against the rock behind him. It startled him enough that he lost his grip on her arm, and she pulled the gun up to her head, her hand trembling.
“Didn’t you wonder, about the priest? No, of course you didn’t, how could you? They fooled it, you see, fooled it by leaving the high priest in this chamber, all sealed in… but it wouldn’t be fooled again. No…. I’m the only one left… Just one left. Had to be one left but now it doesn’t have to be me. It doesn’t have to be me, you see. ”
“Don’t!”
His shout came too late, and her head snapped backwards, her body limp. As he rolled clear of the body, a shockwave rippled round the chamber, dislodging rocks from above. Ianto looked up.
“Bugger,” he said.
***
“How long have I been asleep?” Jack said, to the figure of Quetzalcoatl, who was perched on the hull of the ship and smiling at him. The God had taken the form of a man, chalk skinned and white clothed, with the plumes in his headdress and priest’s jewellery all in the same white.
“Long enough,” said Quetzalcoatl. “I suppose I should warn you that you are in my domain but I assume you’d figured that out already.”
“You are still a dream though. I can’t imagine your body has survived all these years.”
“True,” said Quetzalcoatl, then peered owlishly at him. “My, aren’t you an odd creature? Wrong, one might say.”
“It’s been said.” Jack feigned casualness.
“And not afraid of me, I see.”
“I know what you are. You’re wasting your time on me and I doubt you’ve much left.”
“True again,” said Quetzalcoatl. “But you’re not the only person here, are you.”
The image faded when Jack drew his first breath; but the threat did not.
***
For a second, Ianto wondered if he’d lost consciousness as the dust settled around him and he reached up to rub the sore spot on his head. Everything was still attached and functioning though, so he slowly climbed to his feet, activating the headset as he did so.
“Jack?”
“…Nt… ra…”
“Jack?”
“Don’t … where you….. don’t let your….”
Something was wrong with the comm. Ianto found himself leaning back against the dead priest’s bier, jumping forward as his fingers brushed the bones. He whirled again as he heard the sound of rattles and bells, finding himself briefly face to face with the smiling face of a pasty white God. The appearance was fleeting, and was followed by the rasping sound of a snake moving over rough ground.
Ianto retrieved his gun. The sound of a laugh echoed in his mind. He closed his eyes against the confusing mirror images and the eerie light of the glow sticks. He tried to think of something simple and pleasant, or indeed, anything other than the place he was right now.
Sunset, over Cardiff Bay.
He thought he heard Jack calling him from the edge of the chamber, but when he looked up, the image was as brief and as transitory as everything else had been.
He was starting to wonder if he was going mad.
Right, Ianto thought. No more of this. Jack had told him to stay put but he needed to see daylight. He really needed to see daylight, and the entrance they had come through was a calm, unreflective point of quiet.
In fact, if he was this twitchy, jumping at shadows, his staying here was a liability.
“Iant… don’t….. vitally important you don’t ….”
Don’t lose it, his mind filled in.
Don’t stay here, Ianto’s mind whispered to him. If you stay here you’ll just remember…
He looked up. Jack was standing by the exit, smiling.
***
Jack stumbled through the mirrored passageways, aware that around him the corridors were blurring into one. Ianto wasn’t responding to his contacts; he could only hope that something was getting through. He came to a blind end, realised he had become hopelessly turned around again, cursing as he tried to work out how to get back to the central chamber. This maze might have been created to thwart the Mara, but now it was working very effectively against him.
The Mara needed a human vessel to escape. Why the archaeologist had proven unacceptable Jack didn’t know. Maybe the Mara was just playing with him, but it wasn’t a chance Jack could take. What he had to do now, somehow, was persuade Ianto not to leave the temple, once he could find him.
A feline growl made him turn, as the jaguar crossed the passage ahead of him, swinging its head towards him for a moment, sniffing the air curiously.
“Really,” Jack said, hand on his gun. “Don’t.” Which was when he realised the jaguar probably had a far better idea of how to get around down here than he did.
The jaguar moved on, and Jack followed. It faded from view a few corners on, but Jack had found his bearings again. Left, left, and right… finally.
Jack pulled up just short of the main chamber. He could see Ianto, leaning up against the central platform, looking around him. He was looking troubled and edgy, glancing around himself. When Jack stepped into the chamber, Ianto looked directly at him for a moment, then blinked and looked away. Jack crossed the room, standing in front of Ianto and waving his hand in front of his face. Ianto ignored him.
Shaking his head, Jack stood physically in front of him. Ianto still seemed to be listening to the headset, and Jack tried to reach him that way, although the signal was still breaking. “Ianto, don’t trust your senses. It’s vitally important you don’t leave”
***
Ianto noticed Jack coming into the chamber and hid his relief as best he could. “You’re all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Jack replied, “I found the problem. It was a ship, damaged and entombed here. I’ve turned it off, and set it to self destruct, so we need to leave now.”
“The archaeologist… shot herself.” Ianto gestured at the body.
Jack looked down, his lips pursed in thought. “Something was buried with the ship, something that drove them mad.”
Ianto felt a momentary tug of something in the back of his mind. Don’t trust your senses. It’s vitally important we don’t leave. It almost sounded as if it was coming through the headset, but why would Jack be using the headset if he was right here?
He wanted to leave, didn’t he? He took a long breath. “Right. Good. Let’s go.”
Don’t leave.
“Jack,” Ianto said, “are you hearing anything on the headset?”
“Turn it off,” Jack said. “The thing that’s down here is trying to stop us leaving. It’s trying to make you hear things that aren’t here.”
That made sense. The thing didn’t want to be caught in an explosion, and Ianto would rather he wasn’t as well. He reached up to switch off the earpiece.
***
For a moment, Jack thought he’d gotten through to him, when Ianto ran his finger thoughtfully along the mike. But he realised Ianto was still mostly focused on something that wasn’t there.
“Jack, are you hearing things on the headset?” Ianto cocked his head slightly, listening to a conversation Jack couldn’t hear. After a moment, he reached up again, his hand lingering on the off switch.
“Ianto, listen to me.” Jack could hear his voice take on an edge of desperation, “Whatever you’re looking at, it isn’t me. Listen to this voice…No….Ianto. Don’t turn it off. Don’t. It’s making you see things, because it wants you to leave.”
Ianto hesitated.
“Yes!” Jack said. “That’s it. Ignore it. Stay where you are and listen to me.”
His heart sank when Ianto turned off the device, and slipped it into his pocket. It was time for a more positive action. He bodily stepped in front of Ianto and put his hands on his shoulders. At this Ianto stopped still.
“It touched me,” Ianto said. “It’s here, in front of me.”
Jack stepped in closer, his hand gripping Ianto’s shoulder. Come on!
“It feels pretty solid for something that’s in my mind,” Ianto said.
“That’s because I’m real,” Jack said. “Come on, Ianto. Think.”
Ianto settled his features into a frown and looked at the person Jack couldn’t see. “How do I know you’re not trying to get me to leave because you’re the thing that’s trapped here?”
***
Ianto was desperately trying to make sense of this. What had Lindsay said? It only needs one and now it doesn’t have to be me? There were the other archaeologists that had shot themselves, as well. Ianto’s initial assumption had been that it had been to stop the images. He’d experienced them for mere hours and not several days and they were already making him crazy. But why, so close to the entrance, in sight of escape and daylight?
“How do I know you’re not trying to get me to leave because you’re the thing that’s trapped here?” Ianto asked.
“Ianto, the place is about to be blown to atoms!” Jack seemed to grow impatient.
“I’d rather,” said Ianto, surprised by the strength he was finding in his voice, “be blown to atoms than risk letting something loose out there. If you don’t mind, I’d prefer it if you didn’t leave me to die alone in here, but I’ll understand if you’d rather leave.”
Jack scowled at him. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you die. Ignore what the archaeologist said. They were insane; it’s what this place does. It’s crazy talk, Ianto. Haven’t we seen enough of that?”
Ianto looked up, something slipping into place. As it did, he began to be aware of a presence close to him. Close and familiar. Funny how that feeling of familiarity was somehow...missing...from the Jack who stood in front of him. “I never told you the archaeologist said anything.”
The figure of Jack scowled again, shifting instead to the figure of a man in white, decked out with the full regalia of a priest of Quetzalcoatl. At that same moment, Jack -a real and solid Jack- came into focus crouched at Ianto’s shoulder.
“You haven’t won anything,” Quetzalcoatl said, with a smile, and vanished, leaving just Ianto and Jack in the chamber.
Ianto stared at the air for a moment, before he looked across at Jack for confirmation and explanation.
Jack grinned at him, “Nice work. Thought I’d lost you for a minute there.”
“Thought I’d lost myself,” Ianto said, thinking that was possibly the truest thing he had ever said. “What was that?”
“A Mara,” Jack said. “Nightmare creature. They live on hate, greed and fear.”
“Picked a great place for it.” Ianto looked round at the tomb, and its increasing number of dead inhabitants.
“They have that knack.” Jack also glanced around them.
“Is it gone?” Ianto asked hopefully, part of him knowing the answer already.
At this, Jack sucked in a breath and Ianto took that immediately to mean ‘no’. “I doubt it. The seed of them gets inside you and it stays there, controlling and manipulating.”
Ianto looked down at his feet, and scratched his head, heavy with the realisation. “It’s inside me, isn’t it?”
“It made a try for me but I think something about me disagrees with it,” Jack replied. “So it went for you. You’ve fought it off for now, but they tend to hang around, literally like a bad dream.”
“How did it get in?” .
“They get in while you sleep.” Jack swung his torch upwards to the glinting dream-catcher above the priest’s bier.
“I haven’t slept. Oh.” He put his hand up to the slight cut on his head, which had started to throb. “I think I may have lost a moment or two when the earthquake hit.”
He inclined his head so Jack could briefly inspect the wound. “Nothing gone you’ll miss,” was Jack’s report.
“Reassuring,” Ianto said, deadpan. “So, how do we get it out?”
“They can’t bear their own reflection,” Jack said, quietly. “When it got stranded here, the Aztecs must have figured it out, probably accidentally.”
“Tezcatlipoca trapping Quetzalcoatl in his mirror?”
Jack nodded. “So they trapped the Mara in here, surrounded by mirrors. It would have stayed trapped, too, losing the last of its mental energy until it simply ceased to be, if it hadn’t been for that earthquake.
“The earthquake caused a release of energy from the ship, sparking a rift. The terror of several Aztec warriors transported through 500 years was probably enough to give it a new lease of life. When the archaeologists broke through into this chamber, they shattered one of the mirrors, offering it a way out. If it had made it to a civilised area we’d lose all chance of dealing with it.”
“Why didn’t it just leave through one of them as soon as it could?”
“That I don’t know,” Jack said. “Maybe it was just too weak to maintain its hold.”
But I am not nearly so weak now, Ianto Jones.
“So, if the mirrors are reinstated?”
“I turned off the rift, so, if it was trapped again it would run out of energy and die. Finally.”
I cannot die.
“Then that’s what you have to do,” Ianto said, although saying it was making him feel sick. “They trapped it in the priest, and they trapped it in here 500 years ago. If you seal me up…”
“No,” Jack said.
“Jack, I can hear it. It’s talking to me.”
“Don’t listen.”
Jack’s face began to crack, spilling maggots from the deep, red gashes. Ianto scrabbled backwards on reflex, talking to himself. “It’s a dream,” he mumbled. “It’s a bad dream.”
The sick feeling lingered though, and something was coming for him. Something he couldn’t see but knew was just there in the shadows, waiting for him. He tried to move but found himself paralysed. Willing himself to wake up, he couldn’t make his hand move.
If he could just make his hand move he’d be safe…
“I…can’t wake up,” Ianto said, panicked.
Jack pushed him down onto his back and looked him in the eyes, “Yes, you can.”
“Oh God,” said Ianto, as the images started to fade and he felt he could move again. He wrapped his arms round Jack’s shoulders, just to prove he could.
“See?” said Jack, “it’s okay. We’ll find a way to deal with this.” Jack pulled back to let Ianto sit up, only reaching for him again one he was upright.
Ianto closed his eyes again as Jack’s fingers brushed roughly against his cheek and lifted him into a kiss. Ianto returned it, savouring the familiar feel. “Jack…” he began, cut off as a sudden stabbing pain caught his chest. He looked down as Jack slipped the obsidian knife deeper between his ribs.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, his eyes full of tears. “It’s the only way.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“Ianto!” Jack was looking at him, one hand on Ianto’s shoulder, the other far enough back from his cheek that Ianto knew he was about to be on the receiving end of a slap. The low orange glow of the lights was casting frightening shadows, and Ianto edged away, trying to find anything he could see to cling onto.
“Ianto, it’s okay.” Jack sounded almost reassuring.
Ianto shook his head, “No. No it isn’t! God Jack what if this is still a dream?”
Ianto saw something on the ground. His gun. He picked it up.
“She was right,” he said, “if I’m dead and it can’t use you…”
“Ianto, don’t.”
“But then, maybe it can use you. Maybe it wants to confuse me, so you can get away.”
“If it could use me it would have walked out of here and you’d be none the wiser.”
“Then, if I’m dead it...” Ianto turned the gun in his hands. It felt awkward, this pointing the wrong way. But he was clear, suddenly; unafraid. The trembling in his hands stopped. One shot and it would be over.
Jack barrelled him into the wall before he could raise the gun high enough to fire. This time Jack bodily pinned him, no reassuring hand on his shoulder but an arm pressed across his neck. The gun skidded across the floor where Jack threw it. Ianto started shaking again as he heard laughter echo around the chamber, followed by the rustling of feathers and the slither of scales.
“Jack, please,” Ianto pleaded.
“No,” said Jack, resolutely, “I won’t let you until we know there is no other way.”
***
Jack stood, pinning Ianto against the wall, breathing hard. If it came to it he’d put one bullet through the back of Ianto’s head while he wasn’t even looking. He had no intention of Ianto’s last memory being one of fear.
He was trying to remember everything he knew about the Mara; everything he’d heard. Something about a ‘still point’… was that right? It had been a long time ago and the Agency had been almost as good at nightmares as the Mara were. Still points; the absence of fear…
“Ianto, every time you’ve broken the control of the Mara, what have I been doing?” Jack asked with a flash of inspiration.
“You got through on the radio. You had your hand on my shoulder when I thought I was talking to you. When you let go I started dreaming again… until you had hold and slapped me…”
“And now?”
“It’s…” Ianto looked thoughtful, “It’s still around but I…”
“Yes!” Jack said, and grinned. Not sure how much of a lead this is, but it’s something and it will do for now.
“Yes?” Ianto appeared confused but he hid the fear well.
“Something the Doctor said once, about me being a fixed point. That and an old Manussan legend. I think so long as I’m touching you it can’t maintain control.”
“Great,” Ianto said, dourly, “can we leave so long as we’re holding hands?”
“It would still make you get away from me first chance it got. And besides, they can spread from mind to mind, as soon as you were near anyone else it would find a way out.”
“So, we’re back to square one.”
“We need to find a way to drive it out, need to find a way of stopping you being afraid AND in close contact with me.”
Ianto looked at Jack, his eyes slightly wide. “Are you suggesting we...?”
“No.” Jack just had to smile a little at that.
“Good,” said Ianto, “because I have dreams like that and I’m not sure I’d be able to tell the difference.”
Behind Ianto, in the mirror, Jack could see someone reflected, standing where the dead priest lay. He was dressed in red, a dark black line across his eyes. He held up a smoky obsidian mirror, creating the briefest of dark and infinite space where the two mirrors reflected only each other.
When Jack turned his head, he saw nothing. “I know about the mirrors,” he said, “but what are you trying to tell me?”
“Jack, who are you talking to?”
“The other one; Tezcatliwhatsisface.”
“Forgive me if I’m a little worried about that.”
“I think we have a secret ally,” Jack said. Because someone or something stopped the archaeologists leaving.
Jack grabbed Ianto by the scruff of the neck and half dragged him over to the priest’s platform. A carving of a jaguar looked out at him with jade green eyes. Carefully, and without breaking contact with Ianto, Jack ran his hand around the base of the bier, finding a loose block. He tugged at it, pulling it free and making an opening big enough to look through. Inside, bundled in fragments of red cloth, was another body, clutching a small obsidian disk. With a smile, Jack eased it free. Step one. Thank you, Tezcatlipoca.
***
Ianto made himself as comfortable as he could, sitting on the cold floor of the chamber. Jack’s plan, which appeared to involve entering some kind of hypnotic state, revolved around Ianto finding a point of calm and stillness which would drive out the Mara.
“If anyone in human history ever knew how to manage their emotional state it would be you,” Jack had said, before hanging the new found smoky mirror just above Ianto’s head.
Now, Jack sat in front of him, gently running his thumb over Ianto’s fingers and dropped his voice to a whisper that in any other circumstance would have sent Ianto running for a cold shower. Here, though, Ianto simply listened.
“Remember,” Jack said, “it has no physical form, so it’s going to try and make you afraid. That’s where it lives and grows; in fear. If we remove that fear, it’s got nowhere to run to.
“What it shows you will seem very real, but it’s just an illusion; a bad dream. The only things here that are real are you and me. Don’t let it drag you into a game; all it’s trying to do is stop you being calm.”
Ianto nodded, “Right.”
Jack tipped up his chin, and Ianto found himself looking into his eyes. “If you start feeling afraid, that can’t hurt you either. Say it.” Jack prompted.
“Fear can’t hurt me.” Ianto replied without feeling.
“Say it like you mean it.” Jack demanded.
This time, Ianto tried to feel the words. “Fear… can’t… hurt me.”
“Now,” Jack said, “breathe with me.”
In… hold… out… hold. In… hold… out… hold. Jack’s eyes never left his.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
“Whatever happens, Ianto, I am right here.”
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Something shifted in Ianto’s subconscious, something uncoiling. Something that knew what he was doing and didn’t like it. No, Ianto thought. No you will not do this to me. “Jack it’s moving…”
“It will.” Jack said. “I’m right here. Keep breathing with me.”
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Ianto was suddenly and completely alone in darkness. He took a sharp breath, in fear, his heart slamming against his chest in response.
No, he thought, it’s not real; I’m not alone here. He closed his eyes and took two long breaths, before settling back into a slow breathing rhythm, confident Jack was breathing with him.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” asked Quetzalcoatl. “You can’t stake your small human intellect against me for long.”
“I don’t have to,” Ianto replied, calmly. He offered Quetzalcoatl a tight smile.
Quetzalcoatl shook his bells at him. “You talk a good fight, but I’m more subtle than you give me credit for.”
Ianto wavered, for a moment. “I’m not listening. La la la.”
Quetzalcoatl tilted his head to one side. “No? Then I shall save my breath until you want to talk.”
Ianto was alone again in nowhere. He sat down on nothing, which surely made it something, and went back to breathing.
After one hundred breaths, he started to think. He tried to think of something pleasant. Sunset, over Cardiff bay. He allowed himself a smile. This isn’t so hard.
Sunset, hand in hand with Jack. See. That was pleasant too. Nothing to fear, there.
Jack, cold and lifeless in the Torchwood cold storage.
No. Not so pleasant. Something else, quickly. Something else… Owen. Snarky bastard Owen would no doubt have something to say on the subject of being stuck in the dark with a snake-god. Ianto chuckled to himself, hearing only the sound transferred through his own body.
Owen was dead. Shot. Right in front of him. Ianto tried slap himself, and realised he couldn’t actually feel anything.
Maybe he was dead, too. Maybe this was what death was. Maybe that’s why Jack was always asking what was on the other side. This. With nothing but memories and dreams. No distractions, no waking up.
The dreams you have when you know what went on here.
He started to shake, as that possibility sank in. Nothing, forever
No. He scrabbled for his thoughts again. Jack was with him. Breathing. He could feel it, if he tried, breathing linking them together even if he couldn’t see him.
Breathe in. Breathe out. One.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Two.
Ianto reached three hundred and eight before he lost count. He thought he heard a laugh as he resolved himself to starting again.
“Go away,” Ianto said, “I’m counting. One. Two.”
The blackness was suddenly replaced by a blindingly bright day-scape, the whitewashed walls of Tenochtitlan stretching out before him in front of his vantage point. He was standing on top of the temple, the snake writhing around his legs.
“Then count the dead,” it rasped.
One by one, captives filed past him; some crying, some silent, some smiling. One by one; their hearts were torn out through the shards of their chests, great stains of blood spreading around Ianto’s feet and spilling down the temple steps.
Breathe in. Breathe out. “Three”.
“You missed one!” Quetzalcoatl hissed. “Eight, seventy six, twelve.”
Ianto sat down. Breathe in. Breathe out. “Four.”
“I can shatter your mind. I can make you relive every horror you have ever seen, forever.”
Don’t listen. It’s not real. “Five.”
He was holding the shattered, bloody remains of a cyber-helmet in his hands. He felt nothing. “Six.”
“He’s going to leave you.”
You’re getting desperate, aren’t you? “Seven.”
“It only takes the slightest doubt, you know, the tiniest little doubt.” A shower of feathers drifted down on Ianto, turning to dust as they fell.
“Eight.”
The bells rattled furiously. Quetzalcoatl-the-man stomped and gestured… and was gone. Ianto paid no attention.
“Nine.”
Ianto became aware; the ground, hard against his arse, the warm, stale air. Jack’s hand, closed tightly around his own, their breathing synchronised. Blue eyes; looking into his, unblinking. Above him, a slight breeze caught the mirror and it cast flickers of light around the chamber. It was almost like lying in bed on a sunny morning; no need to get up, just to lie there awake, content to watch shadows on the walls.
“Ten,” he finished.
“Ianto?”
This was the real Jack, Ianto had no doubt. “Yes.”
When Jack leaned in to kiss him, Ianto sensed rather than saw the gun in Jack’s other hand. Another time he might have felt stung by the betrayal, but this made perfect sense and he felt no fear. He gently ran his hand down to Jack’s wrist and angled the weapon towards himself.
“It’s all right,” Ianto said, “I understand. Kiss me and have done with it.”
Jack kissed him, but there was no shot.
“I had to be sure,” Jack whispered into his ear. “Make sure it was gone.”
“For making me think you were going to kill me, you can kiss me again.”
Jack laughed, and Ianto realised how much he liked the sound. “You can have all the kissing you want when we’re out of here.”
“Not arguing with that,” Ianto said, starting to get to his feet. His legs cramped and he stood awkwardly. Jack, never once letting go, slid his hand round Ianto’s waist to support him. He hesitated for a moment, looking at their reflection in the murky depths of the obsidian walls, calm but uncertain.
“It’s gone.” said Jack. He reached up to catch hold of the small hanging mirror, pulling it from its thread to show it to Ianto. “It’s trapped.”
Deep inside the disc, the pale and fading figure of a plumed snake writhed helplessly around itself. Ianto looked at it for a long moment, his fingers closing round Jack’s hand. Jack tightened his grip, and Ianto quelled the slight revulsion he felt looking at the thing. “I am never sleeping again,” he said. “What do we do with this?”
“I was thinking we give it back to the person who owns it,” Jack said, indicating the second priest’s remains.
”And when the next group of curious archaeologists come this way?”
Jack looked thoughtful for a minute, then reached into the pack to produce explosives. “I think we make it a little too much effort to get in, stop anyone who tries, and let nature bury this mystery for another 500 years.”
Ianto nodded. When he got back to the Hub he was going to make sure monitoring this place was one of his very own special projects. Still careful not to let go of Jack - he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that any time soon- Ianto placed the disk back among the bones of Tezcatlipoca.
They made short work of placing the charges, both eager to leave, and eventually pausing at the narrow entrance for one last look at the chamber. It was darkening, as the last of the light in the glow-sticks faded and Ianto suppressed a shiver.
“Ready to go?” Jack asked.
Ianto nodded. “Definitely.”
“Let’s go.”
“Wait…” Ianto took a few steps back, with Jack patiently holding on to his hand, and leant down to reclaim his hat from where it still lay in the dust. He brushed it off, settled it squarely on his head and then smiled. “There.”
“You know, when I get you somewhere private,” Jack said, pushing Ianto through the gap ahead of him and out into the white-washed corridor. “You can leave the hat on.”
***
Epilogue
“I hate to mention it,” said Ianto, looking quickly over his shoulder as they jogged away from the detonation in the chambers below, “but you remember those five very confused Aztec warriors that wanted to tear our hearts out?”
“Hum?” said Jack.
“Do you think they’ve changed their minds?”
Jack glanced back and then resolutely increased his speed. “I doubt it.”
“Thought not,” Ianto said drily, and broke into a run. “Don’t suppose you have a plan?”
“I’m working on it,” said Jack.
Nothing, Ianto thought, as he overtook Jack and made it into the tree-line first, was ever easy.
FIN.