Fic: Hobson's Choice (1/2)
Title: Hobson's Choice (1/2)
Author: fides
Pairing: Krycek/Ianto, (reference to Jack/Ianto & Mulder/Krycek)
Fandom: X-Files/Torchwood (and special cookies to anyone who can id the other fandom that get hinted at)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A bit of kink. Something happens which might upset some people but saying more would spoil the plot - be warned.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine no matter what the little voices in my head might say ;-)
Sequal to Plus Ça Change
Summary: Alex continues with Torchwood 3 but when tragedy strikes there are hard choices to face.
Notes: I know that the time lines don't quite fit so I decided to fudge things a little because it was too tempting to compare Torchwood and the Consortium. This is set after the Movie (X-Files) and during the latter half of season 1 (Torchwood). There are a few general spoilers for X-Files and Torchwood but no specifics. In depth knowledge of both fandoms isn't required. Thanks to moth2fic for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are own.
Plan A had been simple: he held back while the others went in. Then Jack talked, Owen worked on the injured, Tosh worked on the biotech and Gwen covered them or helped as needed. It played to their strengths but there wasn't much else you could do when you had a psychopathic alien with trapped civilians and a rather nasty bit of biological weaponry on your hands. Alex had his position, he had his gun and he had his orders, so he watched the exit and he waited. Just another shadow on a rooftop.
"Get ready." Ianto's voice was soft in his ear, the only sound other than the wind he had heard for hours. How Ianto knew when communications with anyone inside the building were down Alex didn't ask; he had been around long enough to trust that it was so.
Like a magic trick reveal, the team were there in the doorway, backing out in a vaguely threatening scramble. He couldn't hear them but their body language told Alex that they had probably passed Plan B some time ago and were quickly making their way through the rest of the alphabet. Alex counted them out... one... two... three... then something that wasn't human. Had someone stayed with the civilians? Alex tracked the alien automatically as it emerged limb by less-identifiable-body-part. The only weak spot was in its central body node. Organs, brain, central nervous system, all clustered together into one small target area. An area which was about to fill his vision. Alex's finger tightened on the trigger in preparation and the area inched into... Alex blinked, hand loosening.
"Ianto. He has a hostage."
"Can you still get the shot?" Did the computer distort their voices to make them sound calmer? More in control?
"Not a kill." Did his voice sound as raspy to Ianto as it did within his own head? "I could get a limb but the vitals are blocked." Alex licked his dried lips and adjusted his aim.
There was silence over the radio. Alex wasn't a sniper but when they had made their plans the choice had come down to himself or Gwen as external last resort, which really meant there had been no choice. While she was a much better shot than he had assumed when he had first met her, he had had much more experience pulling the trigger with deliberate premeditation. Really there wasn't that much difference between sniping and assassination... and how screwed up was it that he kept telling himself that for comfort. It was the distance he didn't like. Murder should be up close and personal so you didn't forget the reality of what you were doing, didn't forget that the 'merchandise' or the 'mark' or the 'target' had other names and other faces. Murder shouldn't be as easy as the high velocity rifle and the telescopic sight made it. Just like mass murder shouldn't be as easy as a whispered order or the touch of a button. He had been responsible for both and, not that he liked the blood and stink, he preferred the honesty of his dead being able to see the whites of his eyes. Or at least the possibility that they could have done if they had been looking in the right direction since he wasn't, after all, suicidal.
"I have a leg clear," Alex reiterated. "That might distract him enough for the others to move in".
He didn't really believe it but what was the alternative? He'd been shown the bio-scans and the unpronounceable bastards had been designed for battle and either they went down or they kept going. Little concept of pain, or conscience, and therefore no middle ground.
"If you shot the hostage?" Ianto asked.
It took Alex a second to process the question.
"Yes on the alien. Not sure I could guarantee a non-kill shot on the hostage."
He wished he knew what was going on down there and wondered if Ianto did.
"Your priority is taking down the alien," Ianto reaffirmed. "They think it's going for a second trigger."
Alex took a deep breath. Death and he were, if not old friends at least past the borrowing a cup of sugar stage. Nor were betrayal or sacrifice to a greater cause new to him and this wouldn't be the first colleague or even lover he had hung out to dry. But he had hoped Torchwood would be different. For all he missed his games with Mulder he had been enjoying being a team member rather than a rat bastard. Maybe it should have been Gwen up here. She would have told Ianto to find another way. Would have refused to pull the trigger on a comrade rather than settling down deeper into position and calculating angles and trajectories. There had to be a way to take down the alien without killing his human shield. There had to be. Didn't there?
"Alex," Ianto's voice was cold and final, "take the shot."
His finger squeezed the trigger and statue-still he watched although all he could see was a red poppy as it bloomed against a blue sky and glazed eyes looking, impossibly, into his. Then everything was falling, rushing into confusion; target and hostage, his teammates dropping beside the dead? wounded? The static in his ear was human voices, babbling updates he didn't need to know as the jamming dropped with its controller. All he could let it mean was that his immediate job was done. He slipped the safety on and his headset off, allowing it the luxury he couldn't allow himself of dropping against his gun.
It was a decision he had made a long time ago.
Part 2
Author: fides
Pairing: Krycek/Ianto, (reference to Jack/Ianto & Mulder/Krycek)
Fandom: X-Files/Torchwood (and special cookies to anyone who can id the other fandom that get hinted at)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A bit of kink. Something happens which might upset some people but saying more would spoil the plot - be warned.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine no matter what the little voices in my head might say ;-)
Sequal to Plus Ça Change
Summary: Alex continues with Torchwood 3 but when tragedy strikes there are hard choices to face.
Notes: I know that the time lines don't quite fit so I decided to fudge things a little because it was too tempting to compare Torchwood and the Consortium. This is set after the Movie (X-Files) and during the latter half of season 1 (Torchwood). There are a few general spoilers for X-Files and Torchwood but no specifics. In depth knowledge of both fandoms isn't required. Thanks to moth2fic for the beta. Any remaining mistakes are own.
Plan A had been simple: he held back while the others went in. Then Jack talked, Owen worked on the injured, Tosh worked on the biotech and Gwen covered them or helped as needed. It played to their strengths but there wasn't much else you could do when you had a psychopathic alien with trapped civilians and a rather nasty bit of biological weaponry on your hands. Alex had his position, he had his gun and he had his orders, so he watched the exit and he waited. Just another shadow on a rooftop.
"Get ready." Ianto's voice was soft in his ear, the only sound other than the wind he had heard for hours. How Ianto knew when communications with anyone inside the building were down Alex didn't ask; he had been around long enough to trust that it was so.
Like a magic trick reveal, the team were there in the doorway, backing out in a vaguely threatening scramble. He couldn't hear them but their body language told Alex that they had probably passed Plan B some time ago and were quickly making their way through the rest of the alphabet. Alex counted them out... one... two... three... then something that wasn't human. Had someone stayed with the civilians? Alex tracked the alien automatically as it emerged limb by less-identifiable-body-part. The only weak spot was in its central body node. Organs, brain, central nervous system, all clustered together into one small target area. An area which was about to fill his vision. Alex's finger tightened on the trigger in preparation and the area inched into... Alex blinked, hand loosening.
"Ianto. He has a hostage."
"Can you still get the shot?" Did the computer distort their voices to make them sound calmer? More in control?
"Not a kill." Did his voice sound as raspy to Ianto as it did within his own head? "I could get a limb but the vitals are blocked." Alex licked his dried lips and adjusted his aim.
There was silence over the radio. Alex wasn't a sniper but when they had made their plans the choice had come down to himself or Gwen as external last resort, which really meant there had been no choice. While she was a much better shot than he had assumed when he had first met her, he had had much more experience pulling the trigger with deliberate premeditation. Really there wasn't that much difference between sniping and assassination... and how screwed up was it that he kept telling himself that for comfort. It was the distance he didn't like. Murder should be up close and personal so you didn't forget the reality of what you were doing, didn't forget that the 'merchandise' or the 'mark' or the 'target' had other names and other faces. Murder shouldn't be as easy as the high velocity rifle and the telescopic sight made it. Just like mass murder shouldn't be as easy as a whispered order or the touch of a button. He had been responsible for both and, not that he liked the blood and stink, he preferred the honesty of his dead being able to see the whites of his eyes. Or at least the possibility that they could have done if they had been looking in the right direction since he wasn't, after all, suicidal.
"I have a leg clear," Alex reiterated. "That might distract him enough for the others to move in".
He didn't really believe it but what was the alternative? He'd been shown the bio-scans and the unpronounceable bastards had been designed for battle and either they went down or they kept going. Little concept of pain, or conscience, and therefore no middle ground.
"If you shot the hostage?" Ianto asked.
It took Alex a second to process the question.
"Yes on the alien. Not sure I could guarantee a non-kill shot on the hostage."
He wished he knew what was going on down there and wondered if Ianto did.
"Your priority is taking down the alien," Ianto reaffirmed. "They think it's going for a second trigger."
Alex took a deep breath. Death and he were, if not old friends at least past the borrowing a cup of sugar stage. Nor were betrayal or sacrifice to a greater cause new to him and this wouldn't be the first colleague or even lover he had hung out to dry. But he had hoped Torchwood would be different. For all he missed his games with Mulder he had been enjoying being a team member rather than a rat bastard. Maybe it should have been Gwen up here. She would have told Ianto to find another way. Would have refused to pull the trigger on a comrade rather than settling down deeper into position and calculating angles and trajectories. There had to be a way to take down the alien without killing his human shield. There had to be. Didn't there?
"Alex," Ianto's voice was cold and final, "take the shot."
His finger squeezed the trigger and statue-still he watched although all he could see was a red poppy as it bloomed against a blue sky and glazed eyes looking, impossibly, into his. Then everything was falling, rushing into confusion; target and hostage, his teammates dropping beside the dead? wounded? The static in his ear was human voices, babbling updates he didn't need to know as the jamming dropped with its controller. All he could let it mean was that his immediate job was done. He slipped the safety on and his headset off, allowing it the luxury he couldn't allow himself of dropping against his gun.
It was a decision he had made a long time ago.
Part 2