Into the Rush

finally, here is the scond bit and it got totaly away from me. I planned a light-hearted romp in crackness, and it turned into a dark spiral of myth.

I blame DW ep Turn Left.

oh, slash ahead; not much, but its there.


Chemicals react

It was surrounded by thick life that parted as he passed, his bare feet tickled by the plants and grass, and he pushed through the trees to enter into a broken hall.

He had been here before, though the memory of how was lost, and he walked in wonder through ancient walls of stone, even though before him they shifted and breathed and became new again. He came upon a wide tapestry that depicted a war, a great war, and how it raged across all matter and changed fate; in it he saw the fall of planets and races, most burning, some falling into the darkness that swept over time, with a small blue speck as the only survivor. He followed the events, fingers following the path of the blue, until it blended into what he knew, and the scene changed to the fall of the ivory tower. He passed by quickly, and from there he found what had drawn him here.

It was small, compared to the grand scale of piece, but it seemed to shine brighter then the whole, and wondered if it was because it was special, or if it was only because it was made for him. It was a small kingdom, hidden and secretive, but with seeing eyes he traced the familiar design, and on closer inspection he was able to pull apart the individual strands that made up the whole.

Jack's thread stretched out towards forever, and Ianto traced his eyes down the golden strand and could not see its end. It twisted and wound itself around so many others, forming a tapestry unto itself, and Ianto marvelled at the sheer number of lives his Captain would touch. His own thread, a midnight blue that glittered like a star-filled sky, was a compliment to Jack's for longer than Ianto cared to see. He wasn't ready to accept the implications.

Gwen's was vibrant and frayed, as if time would wear the strand down until it was near breaking, but after the peak, it would strengthen and remain until its natural conclusion. It promised her a long life, and hardships, but joy as well, and it had latched onto Rhys's with a vengeance and didn't let go until the end. Despite her infidelities, Ianto always knew the two of them belonged together.

Tosh's thread was not as long as the others, but it was strong, and Ianto knew that she would not just fade out, but go down strong till the very end. He ran hands over the lavender strand, soft and smooth like the best weaved cotton or the finest silk, and was wistful. Besides Jack, it was she that he loved most of all, ever since she had dared to bring him that cup of coffee when he should have been hating them all, she had had his heart; Jack was the one who had his soul.

Owen's thread was frighteningly short.

Ianto ran his hand over where they all connected, where they bound and strengthened each other, and knew that Torchwood Three was always meant to come together.

He heard a noise and turned, just missing a fleeing shape, and he moved to follow it as it moved down the corridor. It became a chase, as it ran and he followed, though he never overtook it. Flashes of different images on the walls drew his gaze as he moved past them, entering his mind and leaving just as quickly: images of metal monsters, steel drones, beasts from the deep, and the worst of humanity. Faces followed, depictions of the men that had dared to try to tame time, who tried to thwart destiny only to be driven mad by what they encountered as a result. Each image came faster and faster until it was a constant blur in his eye, though one face began to stand out from the rest. So lost in this that he didn't notice when he came to a set of doors, and still moving at full speed, he crashed through them to the other side, ending up in a heap on the floor.

He lay on the ground, his body aching, his clothing sticky heavily to his skin with sweat. Each gasp echoed hollowly in the room, and gathering himself, he struggled to rise. The floor beneath him had changed, no longer cold stone, but a warm clear marble that pulsed with energy; the air on the room crackled with it. It reminded him of the rift, the color and taste that builds in the air just before a spike, or a drop, or a tear. The walls around were made of glass, and he would have called them mirrors, save for that the images kept changing, save one.

He saw himself but it wasn't him, and yet he knew it was. The image before him had the same dark curls, same moon pale skin, and the same blue eyes, even though they were framed in a female body. He couldn't move, the twin set of eyes locked on each other, until the movement behind her caught his eye, and he knew that it was the shape he had initially been following. At first he thought that it was just his double's shadow, until it rose up, becoming a distinct shape unto itself. The shape behind her stepped away and began to push its way out from the mirror, and the burn of energy in the air grew, as if the world was screaming.

He felt as if he couldn't trust his eyes.

It looked like another girl, young, petite, with painful eyes and repressed energy, and yet it didn't, for at times he could have sworn that it was a wolf.

But he knew that it was, and wasn't, entirely human.

He was frozen as it approached, as it stopped before him, and leaned its head down to rest against his own. The girl in the mirror had moved as well, and stood beside it, one hand resting on its arm.

"I made a mistake," it said. "I made a mistake and it all went wrong. I'm sorry."

Each mirror around him began to flicker and die out, overcome by darkness. He fell back and before the last mirror blanked, he saw himself it in as he truly was.

Blue met blue as she stared back, and all of time spun around her, fracturing and falling away like shards of glass.

Like a rain of black feathers.

She opened her mouth and screamed.

Ianto.

Ianto?

IANTO!

"Jack?" He asked, wiping the sweat from his face with a trembling hand.

"Hey," was the soft answer as a kiss was pressed into his skin, "that was a bad one."

Ianto lay on his back, Jack a steady warmth at his side, and he gazed up at the ceiling half in apprehension, and half with confusion. It had been so real, he remembered the smell of the earth and the trees, the feel of cold stone under his feet, and the vivid images that still danced before his eyes even though they had begun to face. They were in Jack's bed in the Hub, Ianto reminded himself, and he could make out the telling hum of the mainframe around them. He pulled himself out of Jack's grip (really, for a man who claimed to be from the liberal 51st century, he was awfully clingy in bed) and with a soft "be right back" he made his way into Jack's private bathroom. The cold water helped to ground him more in this reality, and as he shook the drops from his face, he looked into the small wall mirror.

And froze, for she looked back. And behind her, written on the mirror's wall but not on Jack's were these words:

The wolf is running for the crow is in flight.


hope you enjoyed it, don't worry if its confusing as I hope to get that all played out as the chapters go. But if you can't wait, let me know, and I'll give hints.

Maybe.

Review and I may give in.