The Legend of Ianto Jones: Chapter Two
It was now three in the morning and the rain had settled to a light drizzle. Unfortunately this had lowered the temperature even further and Jason shivered in his soaked clothes. After he had stopped running, about six blocks from the Circus of the Damned, he had realised his jacket was missing – not a problem then but quite a problem now. He was cold, damned cold and he shouldn't be. Shape-shifters ran hot and even though he was injured he would usually have been able to cope with the cooler night.
Luckily he still had his phone and had called Richard but he simply hung up. Telling Jason this was not a pack problem since on Jean-Claude's orders he was no longer pack. That had stunned Jason. Richard was usually the last person to obey Jean-Claude. Why start now especially when it was almost unheard of for a Master of the City to directly interfere with pack membership. But then Richard had never really like him so Jason had not tried to call again.
So he had tried Nathaniel, but got no answer. Raphael the rat king would not take his call and it was the same for every shape-shifter community. Jason was persona non grata in the city of St. Louis.
He dared not call Anita. Not because she would not help him but because she would, and much as he felt betrayed at the moment the last thing he would want is to further damage Jean-Claude's power base; which is exactly what would happen if Anita took up Jason's cause. She would probably put a bullet in Jean-Claude for what the master vampire had just done. Not to kill him but just to get his attention. Jason's imagination ran wild with what might happen after that, and in his mind it always came back to him; his fault – his failure. Jean-Claude had not betrayed him, it was Jason who had done the betraying.
He had stuffed up a simple errand. Had not even seen anything of use or identified a single assailant. Jean-Claude had been right to banish him. In the end his weakness would only have destroyed Jean-Claude, and the potentially great supernatural community that was St. Louis. The questions ran through Jason's mind. Who was Ianto Jones and why was he so important to Jean-Claude? More importantly who had taken him and how could he get Ianto back? He may have been thrown out but Jason still saw Ianto as his responsibility, and he shuddered at what might be happening to the other man.
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It was the steady dripping that brought Ianto back to consciousness. The droplets hitting his forehead and running down across his eye and onto the floor. This was also the only way he knew he was laying on his side, since any feeling of up and down was lost in the blinding pain on the back of his head.
Not daring to open his eyes yet he reached out an arm. Sweeping it in an arc he felt nothing but a cold stone floor. As he moved another realisation hit him – he was naked! Well almost, he reached down and could feel that his boxers remained. The pain had receded so Ianto felt brave enough to open his eyes. He needn't have worried since the room he was in was unlit. A small amount of moonlight filtered through a window high up on what looked to be a stone wall. Stone floor and walls with a high window. He quickly tried to recall if there would be castles in St Louis.
Probably, and if there was only one then it would be just perfect that he had ended up right in it. Ianto hated castles, which betrayed his heritage a little but he could not help it. They were gloomy and disease ridden places in his opinion and should have been all demolished decades ago.
Right, first things first thought Ianto – assess the situation, keep calm and act accordingly. If there was one thing he had learnt being around Jack it was to always do something, doing nothing never went well. Then again Jack could not die so the risk for him was never as great.
Holding his head, slightly worried that if he moved too fast his brains just might drop right out, Ianto stood up and properly surveyed his surroundings. Yep, definitely a big stone room; a wet, cold, gloomy stone room with no doors and only one small window too high to reach. At least he was not shivering given the cold air. In fact he was a little surprised that he did not feel chilled at all.
Looking down at his bruised and somewhat dirt ridden body he sighed heavily. Today was just going to be one of those crappy ones that made Ianto wish he had become an accountant. He decided he had better put his training to good use and do exactly what just such a situation called for.
"Help!"
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Jason looked up at the sound of a gun being cocked. There was a man standing before him wearing a trench coat over blue shirt and trousers. He looked like some guy out of a world war 2 period movie. It would have made Jason smirk had the guy not been training a pistol on him.
After the day and night he had just had Jason was fed up and stood quickly, allowing a growl to escape his throat. The guy did not even flinch but raised an eyebrow. "Careful son, I'm not known for my ability to not shoot – if you know what I mean."
Jason took a threatening step forward. "Unless you have silver bullets you'd be wasting your time," he managed to croak out, his voice had still not recovered from Jean-Claude's attack.
"Not silver, but still deadly for a shape-shifter – and so much more painful; so let's just be civil and introduce ourselves. I'm Captain Jack Harkness and you're Jason the shape-shifter who somehow managed to lose my boy Ianto, am I about right?"
Firstly Jason wondered what could be worse than silver bullets, but it was just too painful to ask and secondly how could this guy know who he was? Again too painful to talk so he just nodded. At that Jack holstered his pistol and held out his hand. Numbly Jason took it and gave the man a questioning look.
"Time for answers later," Jack explained. "For now you're going to help me find Ianto. We will rescue him – get him to Jean-Claude and get you off the shit list."
"We?" rasped Jason, knowing he could not mean just the two of them.
Jack waved his thumb behind and Jason could now see three others standing there, two women and a guy. After quick introductions were made Jack handed a pistol to Jason. "Can you use one of these?"
A mumbled yes and they were off. The group had a SVU and Jason was crammed in the back between the woman, Gwen – whom he remembered Ianto mentioning and Owen, a shorter guy with a perpetual frown – which seemed out of place since he was always making wise-cracks, mostly about Ianto finding himself in trouble yet again.
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He sensed more than saw the fist flying towards him and ducked, swinging about he landed a series of quick blows to his opponent's torso, who grunted and backed off.
"Is that all you've got, c'mon! Obviously none of you have been to Manchester," Ianto jeered, he was outnumbered and taunting them was the only way to break up their attack. To be certain he had got in more hits, and this surprised him probably more than his opponents. After all they were shape-shifters and he was just human – wasn't he?
Maybe that last mission through the rift really had changed him, meaning Jack would once again be proven right. The other implications Ianto did not want to think about. Not enough time to think actually as the two were-hyenas made another concerted attack, claws ripped and the howls echoed off the stone walls. Once again Ianto managed to fend off their attack, somehow managing to move faster and counter-attack more effectively than either of the shape-shifters.
He had been cut several times but the bleeding did not seem to be sapping his strength. The wounds did not even hurt too badly. Even with all this though, he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He could sense other shape-shifters waiting their turn. Once again he did not know how. It was like knowing these two were hyenas before they shifted – it was just something he instinctively felt. Unfortunately he also sensed three were-wolves, a bear, two lions and several leopards. The odds were not good that he would survive without some urgent help.
One hyena scampered off, yelping because Ianto had connected a firm kick to its genitals. At this his hopes were raised, he might just survive the night after all.
Suddenly he sensed something else, cold and dark – malevolent, too late he made to spin around when something impacted his back and pain lanced up through his torso. Once again he tried to move around but couldn't. It was as if some invisible force was holding him in place.
Not so invisible Ianto thought as he looked down in horror at the hand, covered in his own entrails that had emerged from his front.
"Oh fuck," he managed to say blandly before blackness came rushing in.
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The wound had a strange feel to it. Ianto knew two things. One is he should be dead and the second was that if not dead he should be in a great deal of pain.
After the sneak attack they had all left. He lay there on the cold floor clutching the gaping hole where the hand had thrust through. As dizziness and a strange smell of sulphur had overcome him he waited for death.
But death stayed away. As the pain receded and he did not bleed out Ianto dared to stand and look around him. There was only the light of the moon through the window but no doors yet he could see. More precisely he could feel the area around him. The stone floor and two feet under that the dark Missouri soil. The brick walls with mortar made of river clay and straw and cow-dung. Everything had a sense to it. A history that he could read from the agelessness of the stone to the short life of the ants that had already started feeding on his spilt blood.
His blood. It too had a story to it and Ianto gasped in amazement. The story that whispered in his ear was not of a young welsh male but of creatures and times that he could barely fathom – even after working at Torchwood.
The copper in his congealing blood sang to him. That part of him that now resonated with all elements.
The wound was healed and the muscles under his skin seemed to twist and move of their own accord. Ligaments popped and bones shifted as Ianto's form began to change. As the shift occurred there was no liquid as with other shifters. Ianto felt no pain and no beast clamouring for release.
Lifting his head Ianto roared as the glorious feel of power and strength flowed through him.
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The roar was unlike anything heard by any creature currently upon the Earth. The sound travelled through the stone walls and like a wave it rolled across the empty fields and into the city of St. Louis. Preternatural creatures of all kinds felt it like an icy breeze straight from the arctic. They shivered even if such creatures had not suffered chills in centuries.
In the car with Jack the young werewolf felt it and looked straight in the direction from which it had come. He did not shiver as others had and instead gasped in a small thrill of pleasure. "Alive," whispered Jason as he felt the power emanating from Ianto and recognised who it was even at this distance.
"That way," he pointed. Jack did not argue and turned the vehicle.
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At the castle the weres and their vampire master stood outside the gates and looked around uncertainly. Each and every one of them thought the same thing. Would the walls hold the creature they had awoken?
A resounding boom echoed through the wall and the chipped stone and falling debris answered their question.
No.
Tbc…