'Til Death

Standard Disclaimer:

This is a fan written story arc involving characters [and dialogue] created and owned by Russel T. Davies and the BBC. The following story is fictional and does not portray any real person or event. Any reference to any real person or event is strictly coincidental.

No animals were harmed in the making of this fic.

Twitter: Quinnzical_

Chapter One

A brutal murder had occurred only moments prior within the hub and yet no alarms were blaring and no lights flashing to warn of a violent intruder. The only sounds that filled the structure were those of electronic equipment humming a steady tune and computer processors whirring along in harmony.

Gwen had returned home to Rhys, to lie about her day and say nothing exciting happened within the "special forces department". Owen ventured out to a pub to find something warm to rub up against for the evening and Tosh had taken the long way back to her flat. When she got home she would settled in bed with a book she had been reading, only to fall asleep before finishing the next chapter.

Ianto never left the hub.

He stayed behind to go over some medical readings that Owen had left laying out on his desk, and flipped through them countless times as if searching for an answer that simply wasn't there. It was the newest case to catch their interest. The words were starting to become blurred together as he read and reread the crisp pages.

Parasite has infected host and mutated 100% red blood cells, no cure.

He crumpled the last page within his fist, nearly growling in his frustration over the information they had gathered. The chair slid back with a deafening thud against a cabinet as Ianto stood, turning to head for the exit to take a walk and let the information sink in deeper. If he thought it over, perhaps he would just suddenly realize something they had all been missing.

He grabbed his coat and then Jack was there.

Jack was there and then Ianto found himself sitting on the couch within Jack's office, blood covering his torso and slowly staining his clothing as it dried. The thick crimson on his fingertips caught the light as he turned his hand and brought it to his lips to trail his tongue over the pad of his thumb. His vivid blue eyes nearly glowing as he stared down at the lifeless body of their captain, lying on the floor.

In the gap of time, everything seemed to shift together. He recalled they had been arguing, yelling quite heatedly. Words being thrown back and forth without hesitation until Ianto had lashed out, swinging a fist at Jack so swiftly that he hadn't the time to duck out of the way. The contact had split Jack's lip and it began bleeding.

Ianto didn't recall much after that..

He licked his fingertips and then stood from the couch, stepping over Jack as he headed for the door. He needed a shower and a fresh suit, the drying blood on his skin was starting to itch.

A Week Earlier

Ianto often found himself wondering what it was like for Jack every time he died. He would muse over the details of every wound, and ponder if there was a distinct difference between being stabbed and being shot. He wondered if Jack had a favorite way of dying versus all the others, one that wasn't quite as violent and painful. He found himself thinking at great length about what those final moments were like, over and over, for Jack. What it felt like to have the last bit of your life slipping away, knowing all that was to follow was darkness.

Across the abandoned grasses of Sevenoaks Park, in the shadows of great trees that swayed lightly in the midnight breeze, Ianto laid within a growing pool of his own blood and wondered if it felt a great deal like he did at that very moment.

They had been tracking a spike in rift energy across half of Cardiff, one that moved too quickly for a decent foot pursuit but kept to locations that were difficult for the SUV to reach. No one knew what to look for, and the CCTV was only catching vague blurs of motion. It was incredibly dangerous to chase down, but that increasing danger made it all the more important that they do so before innocents ended up being harmed.

Ianto coughed as the pain in his shoulder increased, the taste of blood on his lips not reassuring him that it was just the slightest of wounds, but at that point he couldn't tell if it was his blood or the creatures. He had to have injured it at least. It was too close for him to miss with the gun.

He didn't dare lift his hand from the side of his throat, fearing that releasing the pressure would just bring about the darkness faster. Too fast. He had to see Jack again, at least one more time. There were things he hadn't told him yet.

"50 meters and closing in on your location, Ianto. Moving north along Waterhouse Drive. Still not able to catch anything on the CCTV, so stay alert." Tosh's voice came over the comm, a vigilant guide in telling them where to be and when to be there.. Jack was chasing the creature, sent to herd it into an empty location where it would be easier to contain. Ianto stood in it's path, ready to neutralize it with a variety of differing weapons.

In retrospect, Ianto felt that he had taken the wrong position in this strategy. Jack was usually better at being the bait.

The pistol was heavy in his hands, but all he saw in the faint glow of distant street lights were the thick boughs of trees and an abandoned playground. The only sounds in the darkness were the rustling of leaves and the creaking of swings every time the wind would increase just the slightest. No rapid foot falls, not even the distant sound of Jack's coat hitting the back of his shoes as he ran.

And then, there was silence.

No wind, no creaking metal. No leaves shifting lazily, no distant waves in the bay. It became absolutely still in an instant, and it was then that Ianto saw it. The creature stood no more than a foot away from him, standing just off to the side with a desperate gaze locked onto him. It breathed heavily, nearly gasping from the exertion of escape and as it's shoulders rose and fell; Ianto saw the fear in it's eyes.

It was humanoid enough, seven feet tall and staring down at him with a mouthful of teeth unlike anything he had seen before. No clothing to speak of, just thick scaling and plated bone covering vital organs like a genetic armor. It growled and began to move forward, and in an instant the pistol was raised.

Jack caught a glimpse of the barrel flash in the night, the sound of the gun shot following a hundredth of a second after. He began to run. "Ianto?"

He tried to shift onto his side, daring to crane his neck to look for Jack but every motion or strained breath searing nerve endings already screaming in agony. He wanted to scream as well, to let out a howl into the night against the pain and the inevitable. Ianto wondered when Jack stopped screaming, when he stopped fighting. When he would just close his eyes and wait for the darkness.

There were frantic footfalls and the sound of a heavy coat hitting the back of leather shoes. The faint streetlights had all gone dark and the ground seemed to disappear from beneath him.

The swing set creaked in the distance.

What followed next was a series of disjointed moments in time that Ianto would later attempt to piece together. Brief lapses in his state of unconsciousness when the world that continued on around him would break through the darkness of a dreamless sleep.

Owen and Jack stood a breaths width away from each other, hushed voices and clenched jaws as they spoke on a topic that none of them liked but all of them were too familiar with. The blinding lights of the medical bay made it difficult to keep his eyes open for long, but the conversation was clear.

"I don't think he is going to make it, Jack... the gash to his neck is too deep and his fever is persistent. I've tried everything..." Owen ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the monitors that kept a vigilant watch on Ianto's vital signs. Jack shook his head, raising a hand to point firmly at the medic as if the aggressive gesture would get his words across.

"Not good enough. You try harder, Owen. I will not lose him."

The deep of unconsciousness took hold of him again, and the vivid light and heated conversation faded away. Jack seemed determined, perhaps a bit more than normal for an employer concerned over one of the team. Ianto had never seen that look in his eyes before, it was a fire that could burn out the sun.

Jack's hand made swift contact with his cheek, his eyes blinking open for just a moment. It was long enough to see the determination had turned to desperation, Jack leaned over him as Owen struggled with a needle.

"Ianto, stay with me. Ianto." The medical bed he lay on seemed to drift away from beneath him, and he could see Jack turning to Owen. He was shouting something in a panic but it all seemed so far away, so distant that he could barely make out the words.

"We're losing him!"

There was a steady tone on one of the monitors before Ianto was in the familiar embrace of nothingness once more. He couldn't recall a time when Jack was ever in a state of panic. There was always a plan, a backup plan and an exit strategy. When all else failed he would resort to mindless heroics and hope for the best, but he never panicked. Curious then, as to why Captain Harkness would seem in a frenzy now.

The lights of the medical bay were dark and the hub was silent except for a steady beep echoing on the walls. Night had fallen, thought it was difficult to tell if it was the first night or one of many since he had been attacked. For a moment, Ianto thought that he had been left alone to rest but then there was a hand curling around his own and he glanced down to find Jack at his side.

He wanted to ask what was going on, to start demanding answers to a thousand hazy questions in his mind, but Jack was hushing him and rubbing at his palm and wrist.

"Jack..." He managed weakly, his voice breaking as he struggled to wet his dried throat.

"Shh, Ianto. Sleep." There was a small smile on the lips of their captain and Ianto let his eyes close. He focused on the feeling of Jack lightly caressing at his fingertips, rubbing his palm, trailing a thumb nail softly across his wrist, and slept.

The haze was fading and the sense of desperation from Owen and Jack had disappeared as well. If the medic had been sent away to rest, then it must have meant he was stable. Stable and recovering. It didn't explain why it felt as if he was being held in the darkness, as if a chain was latched firmly on his leg, refusing to let him escape into the waking world.

"It's definitely alien, but I have no idea what this is, Jack. His entire body is infected, a hundred percent of his red cell count." Owen was adjusting something just out of sight and Jack stood against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

"I've had to give him transfusions just to keep him alive. It's like it's... a parasite that latches onto the cells, feeding off of them and once they're gone it starts attacking the mutated cells and the host. Like it starts eating itself."

"And the wound?"

"Completely healed. It's only been three days, and it's completely healed." He shook his head, and had started flipping through papers on a small table. "If this is a parasite, Jack, then it needs to keep Ianto alive. If Ianto dies, it dies. It's healing him. That's all I've been able to figure out. The Fuoco must have been carrying it and when it attacked Ianto, it infected him."

"If it's keeping him alive, why would it start to cannibalize?"

"I don't think it's sentient, it's just driven by a primal instinct to eat. When the food source it prefers runs out, it starts in on whatever it can." Owen glanced down at Ianto,a brow half cocked. "It needs to feed."

Present Day

Ianto adjusted the knot at his throat, smoothing out the fabric of his tie over his chest. His hair was still damp and lay unkempt against his forehead, and he took a moment to brush his hand back through it as he leaned to peer into the mirror. The blood was gone from his skin and the feeling of desperate hunger completely vanished from the back of his mind.

A faint smile played at his lips as walked back through the hub to Jack's office, glancing down as he crossed the threshold fully expecting to see the prone body still lying there. He paused in a moment of surprised hesitation at finding exactly the opposite, his brows raising as he looked up and then turned at a faint click of metal behind him.

There was a barrel of a pistol aimed at his chest and Jack was standing, alive and well, at the other end.

TBC