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Title: Torchwood 2: Hell Hath No Fury

Spoilers: CoE

Characters: Janto, Martha Jones and mention of Owen Harper and Gwen Cooper/Williams. RTD owns them. All other characters are my own and I promise that I take care of my own

Genre: fix-it fiction for CoE via Torchwood 2

Rating: this is 15 probably for some bad language (though it might be a 12 at the moment). It’ll go up to 18 later as it will have adult content later, but nothing yet.

beta'd by janiemc and kelticbanshee - thank you!

Ianto is now with TW2, but his thoughts are on Jack and his whereabouts

 

Ianto, swathed in a travel rug, followed Innes out of the car park and into the corridors which led to the Vaults. 

‘Sorry about the clothes. Or lack of them. We’ll get you kitted out in a minute,’ said Innes, walking briskly along the dusty corridors.

‘S’alright. I’m almost used to being naked now. Did you mention showers?’

‘Aye. Just try not to scrub yourself raw.’

Ianto smiled.

‘It does feel a bit like that. Like they’re all over you. Into your skin.’

‘I know. But they’re not. Just. Just. Let the water do the work. Right. Here we are.’

Ianto frowned as he stepped through the door and into the Vaults.

‘It’s not exactly state of the art, is it?’

‘Doesn’t need to be. We’re not like you lot. We’re not waiting for an unknown onslaught. We’re concerned with what was here first.’

  ‘How the hell do you find anything in here? It’s a mess.’

‘There’s a system,’ replied Innes, leading Ianto into his own quarters and through to the bathroom.

‘Oh yes. I’ve seen that system before. Unidentified material goes under eff for fuck knows.’

Innes laughed, and set one of his wild smiles upon Ianto.

‘No. Not quite. I know where things are. You’re a cheeky bastard. For somebody who’s been dead for seven months.’

Ianto shrugged.

‘You know. I’m not sure that I have been. Shower through here, then?’

 

With the earth washed clean away, he began to feel less vulnerable. He stood, examining his body in the bright, sharp light of the bathroom. How would he know? There would be no signs. There were, however, four livid marks over his cheek where the Sidhe Queen had run her fingers down his face, and high on his forehead, just within his hairline, there was an area of bruising, speckled through with grazing which was almost healed. He was thinner than he had realised, but not as thin as he should have been, surely. That was something else to ask Innes.

He hauled on the hooded sweatshirt and jogging pants that Innes had provided,  and ruffled his hair a little. He had meant to take away some of the last water droplets but instead his fingers gently twisted into his scalp. He stood, eyes closed, feeling tears rising. His scalp tingled in the way it always did when Jack did that. When they would be lying, side by side, breathing still heavy and eyes still bright. And Jack would lie, fingers twined in his hair, the gentle, little actions in such contrast to those minutes before, saying nothing. Those were the moments. Those seconds and minutes. When he had known everything he had needed to.

Ianto shook his head and wiped his face. He stared at his reflection in the mirror until he was calm. This was Torchwood. This was part of it all. This was what was needed to get Jack back.

 

 

When he rejoined Innes, Ianto breathed in the aroma of freshly ground coffee.

‘Fancy some? Nice beans. Courtesy another one of our happy crew.’

‘God, yeah. I’d love some.’

‘Then sit down. And talk to me. Are you reckoning that you haven’t exactly been dead?’

‘What do you know about Jack, Innes?’

Innes sat down opposite Ianto and gave him a cold, knowing smile.

‘I know enough. I have seen the man die. Then come back. And I know what he can be like. Irrepressible shall we say? Were you and him? You know? An item?’

‘An item?’

‘Aye. Seeing each other. Boyfriend? Partner?’

‘Oh. Yes. We are. We were.’

‘So you and him. You.’

Ianto set a steady gaze on Innes, his expression impassive.

‘What are you implying?’

‘I think you might be suffering from communicable immortality.’

Ianto’s left eyebrow raised quizzically.

‘Really? Catching is it?’

‘Christ knows. Maybe it’s in his. His.’

‘Bodily fluids might be the phrase that will cause you least embarrassment,’ suggested Ianto, slowly

‘No. Ianto. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have any problem. With you having sex with Jack Harkness. But I do have a problem discussing a stranger’s sex life. I’ve just met you. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Ah. Right.’

‘Um. Coffee then?’

‘Probably best.’

 

Ianto sat, nursing the mug, inhaling the rich aroma of the celebes colossi. He watched idly as Innes arranged a bed alongside the leather chaise.

‘I didn’t mean to be awkward. About Jack,’ Ianto ventured.

‘No. I know. But. If he’s passed that on to you. Well. Just don’t be doing any extreme experiments to find out how immortal you are.’

‘I have no intention of doing that,’ Ianto assured him.

‘Right. I’ll sleep out here. You can have the bed. Don’t argue. It’s comfortable and you deserve a decent night’s sleep. If you can get one.’

‘It’s been a hell of a day,’ admitted Ianto. ‘But I’ve had worse.’

‘Aye. I can imagine.’

‘Will these go?’ Ianto asked, touching the livid lines down his cheek.

‘I doubt it. It’s a warning. Like the black and yellow nature thing. It’s a don’t go too near this one.’

‘Oh. I thought she was leaving some sort of calling card.’

Innes became still for a moment.

‘No. It’s not that.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Aye. I’m sure,’ said Innes, turning and raising the front of his t-shirt. His abdomen was a tracery of scars, all with a strange green tinged lividity which made Ianto thankful his were pale traces over his skin. He could not do anything but stare. Some  of the scars were long, tracking up on to Innes’ shoulders, around on to his back. 

‘What the hell?’ breathed Ianto.

‘That’s what their calling card looks like. Now. Best to get your head down. And try to rest.’

********

 

‘Jack? Jack? Wake up, Jack?’

He kept his eyes closed, but turned his head one way then the other.

‘Ianto? Is that you?’

‘Who else? Wake up, Jack.’

‘Nah. You don’t get me that way. I wake up and you’ll be gone. This way’s good. I can hear you.’

‘I can’t have any type of conversation with you if you’re not at least a little bit lucid though. Are you drunk?’

‘Should be. Been drinking for weeks. Months. Been trying to take the pain away. Ianto Jones. Are you not dead?’

‘Well I’m not dead enough not to know what state you are in. You need to stay sharp Jack. Stay focused. Get yourself out of whatever shit you happen to be in. Wake up.’

He sat up with a gasp. He almost expected to see Ianto kneeling beside him. He held his hands out, trying to establish if this was the Waking. But there was none of the rush of consciousness that usually brought. Instead, there was a thundering pain in his head and a desperate dehydration.

A high pitched bell began ringing, right at a pitch to make his eyes water. He clamped his hands over his ears and closed his eyes tightly. Ringing bells, in or out of his head, were never good.

‘Finally you’re awake. This has been epic. You must have drunk your way round the known universe.’

Jack squinted through deliberately half closed lids. There was a woman standing beside him. She was tall, with skin sheened a reddish gold, and on any planet Jack could think of at that moment, she would be hot. She also seemed vaguely familiar.

‘My dear captain. You are a wreck.’

‘Weren’t we playing three hand sartek?’ he asked, slowly.

‘Well done. Yes we were. And I won. Everything.’

‘Impossible. I never lose at that. I am so good I scare myself sometimes.’

‘But you weren’t using all your senses. You just thought you were. And I admit that I had a Sybillian lobal scrying ball.’

‘Damn it,’ complained Jack, ‘that’s cheating.’

‘The fact that you know what that is tells me that you would have used one.’

‘Damn right, but I wouldn’t waste it on a lousy game.’

‘I don’t. Not always. But you were drunk. And funny. And intriguing.’

‘Don’t forget dashing and handsome,’ countered Jack, desperately trying to appear degrees more relaxed than he was.

‘I will not. But at the moment you are hardly dashing. I’ve used sixteen Mongorian leeches to suck the various alcohols out of your system. Five of them died. You need to sleep the rest of it off.’

‘Sleep where?’

‘Here. In this bed. For now. It is perfectly comfortable. This is my ship.’

‘We were on a gaming pod. On Isis Three. How the hell did you get me on to a ship?’

‘I paid four charming young men to help me. I nearly kept one. But I have prettier. Now rest a while. Then you can bathe. And I’ll be able to see how much of a catch you are.’

‘A what?’

‘A catch. For my collection. Now lie back down and rest. And do not think about laying hands on me. Or I will burst your ear canal,’ she said with a smile, holding up a shimmering blue orb. ‘With this.’

‘Okay. I’m lying down. I’m doing what you want,’ said Jack, hands up in capitulation.

‘Can I just ask one more question.’

‘Certainly Captain. What would that be?’

‘Where are my clothes?’

 

 

**************

Ianto rose early the next morning, trying to stretch fatigue out of his muscles. Innes was still asleep on the mattress next door. Ianto did not want to wake him; the man’s nightmares had kept him awake and wide eyed in fear for two hours in the absolute pitch of the night. He had a pretty good idea what was causing them - the scars were shocking to see - but knew that he should not comment, not unless Innes make some remark.

So he rose and dressed, sighing at his lack of possessions, before making himself a coffee and sitting at the breakfast bar with a notebook and pen filched out of the bedroom.

By the time Innes was awake, Ianto had made a comprehensive list regarding essential actions and requirements. 

‘That looks pretty extensive,’ Innes remarked, feeding bread into the toaster. ‘Want some of this?’

‘Yes. I suppose. Didn’t want to try it myself. You know what it’s like. Everybody’s toaster has its own personal electronic psychosis.’

‘Aye. This one’ll burn on three. Is that for public consumption?’

‘It’s what I need to do. I just need to work out the best order.’

‘What’s number one.’

‘Go to Cardiff. And London’

‘Thought you didn’t want to go back,’ said Innes, mildly.

‘I don’t. I have left luggage in Cardiff. And lockers in London. With money. And papers. Hidden in plain sight so to speak.’

‘We can help you with that in the meantime, Ianto.’

‘I can’t live my life in jogging trousers. It’s not natural.’

‘Shopping then.’

‘And getting Jack back. I’m not going hunting for him in jogging trousers either.’

 

There was a knock on the metal door which separated the living quarters from the other vaults. Innes jumped at the clatter, then went and peeped through the glass. He stepped back and opened the door. Jude entered and, ignoring Innes, smiled broadly at Ianto.

‘Hello. I’m Jude. I’ve brought bombolini. You can have it after the burnt toast. And you must be Ianto.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I’ll make sure the others look after you. You look nice. And normal.’

Ianto laughed, spluttering through a mouthful of coffee.

‘What? Is that a good thing?’

‘Yes. I have worked here for years now. And if I lined all the males up in line of normality. That is sanity. You’d probably come at the top of the line.’

‘Jude. For God’s sake, give the guy a break. He’s been through some very nasty stuff.’

‘Yeah? But he hasn’t been molested by the FQ has he? I can see he hasn’t because he’s not all green. And you said he was sound. That he was organised. That he was smart. So that’s enough to put him up top.’

Ianto allowed himself a smirk, but Jude, offering him the still-warm bombolini, countered it with,

‘Don’t think I’m rating you that highly. There’s Innes, our boss, who has screaming nightmares and sleeps underground. There’s Arthur who thinks he’s God’s gift, can make you go weak at the knees, has more money than he knows what to do with and yet is as charming as a rattlesnake. And there’s Java Boy, Gav. He’s cute but he’s come this close, this,’ she said, pressing her thumb and forefinger together until only a millimetre separated their nails, ‘to being sectioned. Twice.’

‘You think Gav’s cute? News to me,’ remarked Innes.

‘Innes. This is not a conversation for you. It’s for Ianto.’

‘But you do?’

‘Yeah. It’s his eyes. He has lovely eyes. But he’s too skinny and nearly mad. So. You see, not much of any competition. If Ringan was here, though, you might be second.’

‘Alright then.’

‘Right. Enough bonding. Let’s eat doughnuts,’ said Jude, smiling.

Innes gesticulated at her behind Ianto’s back, questioningly.

‘I know you’re doing something back there,’ said Ianto, automatically.

‘Really? Well. What’s with the spiel, Jude?’

‘It’s called being friendly, Innes. And I’ve been dying to see him. There’s been so much said. But we’ll need to get you out of those clothes. I’ll get Gavin to get you kitted out. He’s the best out of us to get you dressed well.’

‘How so?’ demanded Innes.

Jude shrugged and mimed locking her lips.

 

Gavin appeared some ten minutes later and made a more guarded introduction to Ianto, who was somewhat relieved at his more laconic approach.

‘So you’re not dead, then,’ said Gavin, picking over the remains of the bombolini.

‘Apparently not.’

‘You staying round here for a while?’

‘I think so. Till I get my bearings. And get some information.’

‘You planning on living down here with Innes?’

Ianto shrugged and glanced towards Innes, whom, he realised, had been listening to the conversation.

‘Actually. We need to talk about that. All of us.’

‘He can’t go to Arthur’s,’ said Jude, a moment before Gavin.

‘Okay. Agreed. Given some of Arthur’s other ... family concerns. What about you Jude?’

‘Oh. No. Sorry. But no. I have been working on this really cute guy that moved in on the first floor of my tenement. And I can’t have a guy in my flat. Sorry, Ianto. No. I have loads invested in this. We’ve done the coffee thing. And the chatting in the garden.’

‘That’s why you’ve started doing your bit, is it?’ laughed Gavin.

‘Yes. Of course it is. He’s really nice. And I’m not blowing my chances. No offence,’ she added, smiling at Ianto.

‘None taken,’ he replied, thankful that her earlier comments were clearly platonic.

‘You can come back to mine,’ said Gavin. ‘It’s only a sofa bed. But you can’t stay down here. And you need to be in some sort of stable environment. Not a hotel. So. If you want. You can check my place out.’

‘Great. Okay.’

‘And d’you want some clothes? And other stuff? We could get that sorted today if you want. If you’re up to it.’

Ianto nodded.

‘Yeah. I think so. Walking about above ground sounds good.’

‘Right. Let’s see. I’ll nip out. Get you some. Shoes?’

‘Yep.’

‘Jeans? To be going on with?’

‘Yep.’

‘Shirt? T shirt?”

‘Don’t mind. To be going on with.’

‘Not something with impaled vampires or prime cut written on it, Gav,’ commented Innes, who had set himself down to check through newsfeeds.

‘Innes. I’m not a complete idiot. Ianto, write down sizes. Otherwise I’ll forget. And I’ll see what I can do.’

As Gavin left, Ianto idly looked down the list he had made and groaned.

‘I need to get to the cash though. But I don’t have the key for the deposit boxes in London,’ said Ianto suddenly. ‘It was in my jacket. Always. But. Shit.’

‘You’ll have the addresses,’ stated Innes. ‘I’ll send Arthur. He can go down and back. Quickly. And if there is any problems accessing your belongings. He can deal with it. No problem.’

 

It was a bright  day. Ianto stood, smiling, watching as the sun bathed the city’s older buldings in a honey gold light. Gavin had brought back some sunglasses and Ianto slipped them on, enjoying the heat, enjoying the breeze, enjoying the space.

‘Right,’ smiled Gavin. ‘First things first. Let’s get you a jacket. Then we can do the fun stuff. And the basics. And don’t worry. Money is pretty much no object. What d’you want to be wearing?’

‘What do you think I’ll be doing?’

‘Hopefully. Helping them out. They’re Torchwood. You’re Torchwood.’

‘But I’m Torchwood Three.’

‘So?’

‘It’s different. They’re all different. Torchwood One was different too.’

‘That’s the London one, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Well then. Be the first guy to collect a full house of all the available Torchwoods. At least you could check the cataloguing and archive. It wouldn’t be too tough and you might get through to Innes. Now. Let’s get you kitted out.’

‘With what?’

Gavin gave a wicked smile. He drew out his wallet and rifled through his cards until he pulled out a platinum credit card.’

‘With this.’

***********

 

‘I don’t know how girls  do it,’ laughed Ianto, as he fell back into the comfort of Gavin’s sofa and letting go of the bags he was carrying.

‘Oh I don’t know. I think it’s about pacing yourself,’ replied Gavin, setting down the bags he had. ‘I think we did okay. Plenty stops. Keep the caffeine and food levels topped up. And the nicotine in my case. Civilised shopping. That’s what a friend of mine calls it.’

‘Civilised. Yep. It was good. Just to be outside. So. Thanks. ‘specially for the suits. I’ll settle up soon as.’

‘S’alright. S’on the plastic for now. And I don’t pay that bill. So. It’s fine. There’s no immediate rush.’

 

While Ianto took a shower and acquainted himself with Gavin’s music and film collections, Gavin made dinner. Ianto ate the glazed chicken joints with relish and told Gavin that it was maybe the best thing he had eaten for the longest time.

‘That’s ‘cause you’ve been stuck underground. Or dead. Seriously. I’m not that good.’

‘My God. Did you actually make all this?’

Gavin nodded, frowning.

‘Well. Yeah.’

Ianto smiled at the sticky chicken thighs and wings, the crisped, golden potato slices and the salad.

‘I even grew the lettuces,’ added Gavin, with a laugh.

‘I am impressed.’

‘If it makes you feel better. Tomorrow I’ll introduce you to the Edinburgh fish supper and our decent pubs.’

Comments

[wanda1969.livejournal.com]

Great! at least Ianto doesn't appear to have gone insane from the ordeal? And will Jack manage to get off that ship and back? More soon?