Torchwood: Divergence
Book One: Dychwelyd
Chapter 31
They'd had three more extremely busy days, the Rift dropping an incredible assortment of debris and alien visitors all over Cardiff and the nearby area. The team had been working twelve to eighteen hours a day for a couple of weeks now and it wasn't letting up. Things had been too chaotic for Gwen to get Ianto off alone to talk, but she was determined to keep trying. The Shadow reborn twenty-six-year-old was acting more his old self again, but she'd seen that flash of fear in his eyes off and on, and he'd made more frequent trips into the deepest Archives but returned empty handed and strangely tired. Both worried her, and she wanted answers.
It didn't appear she'd have the chance to pursue it today either however, as the Rift alert system sounded off yet again.
"Oh, bloody hell," the former PC complained bitterly. "We're only just back from clearing out those damn singing space slugs at the Botanical Centre. And it's not even 11:00 in the morning."
"Five life forms," Ianto reported from Turlough's station, the redhead busy with a lead on how to destroy the Chameleon Arch Sanctum they'd picked up at St. Mary's. "System matches them with the specs for... Blowfish. Oh, and they appear to all be carrying hand guns, as well as being angry and aggressive."
"Charming," Gwen groused, moving to grab another clip of ammo for her Sig-SP2022. "Where did they come out?"
"The ruins that used to be Tretarri," Jones replied with a frown. "And we're getting some odd residual fireworks as far as the Rift energy goes. No wonder the Council developers still haven't touched the area. That place is just not right."
"No, but at least I can get into it now without collapsing or throwing up," Jack put in as he came out of the office. "Gwen, Ianto, with me. Martha, let Turlough know and you both be ready if we need back up. Otherwise, just have the medical bay primed in case we have to use it. You two grab stun pistols, see if we can round up the Gold Fish Gang without bloodshed, yeah? Hopefully this won't take too long."
The trip to the Wharf area was brief and unusually quiet, but they could hear plenty of noise from one of the fire gutted, earthquake twisted old houses in the as yet un-cleared Estate when they got out of the SUV. The threesome approached with caution, all armed with fully charged stun guns as well as their normal weapons. Jack headed around back, Gwen taking the partially open end of the structure to the north, while Ianto slipped up to the shattered front threshold. The plan was to "bag and tag" as their leader had put it. Disarm and subdue the piscine interlopers, if possible, for incarceration in the Vaults, with lethal force being a last resort option if the aliens insisted on playing too rough.
The Torchwood team converged, Cooper finding her way partially blocked, but at least she had cover if she needed it and a good line of sight on the creatures if she had to shoot. She could see Ianto checking the discharge setting on his stun pistol as he crept into the disintegrating structure through where the front door used to be. A slight movement opposite the young brunette helped her pinpoint the American who ran the Institute. All systems go...
Harkness was about to announce their presence, when one of the arguing Blowfish suddenly lurched away from its fellows and literally ran right into him. He stunned the fish-headed biped automatically, let the body hit the floor twitching, just in time to see the rest of the gathered aliens swing their attention his way. Ianto managed to stun another from behind, Gwen shot a third's gun hand to disarm it then hit it in the leg as well so it couldn't run. Jack round-housed a fourth Blowfish, stunned it while it was down, stood to see his partner lose his stun gun and get an elbow spike through the hand to keep it away from his face as he tried to subdue the last uninvited guest.
"Ianto!"
The Captain stepped forward to help, only to hear the double roar of a .45 being fired twice at close range... the one Gwen had shot had a second gun. The first bullet caught him a few inches above the belt on the right side, a rib shattering on impact to shred through his lung as he was slammed back against the exposed wall studs near the charred remnants of the fireplace. The other bullet ripped out the left side of his throat, and Harkness knew he was on his way to the Dark again.
"Jack!"
The pain and fear in Ianto's voice almost hit the older man like a physical blow as he slid down the blackened beams. He saw the young Welshman snap the arm of the fish-man he was grappling with, even as he pulled his Desert Eagle out and plugged the shooter twice between the eyes, basically liquefying most of the alien's bulbous head. He started toward where the Captain sprawled choking for air, only to have the last upright Blowfish lash out with its good arm, Gwen giving a panicked shout of warning that she didn't have a clear shot. The alien's elbow spike sliced open Jones' left shoulder as he automatically dodged, easily cutting through both the suit jacket and shirt beneath to leave a deep gash in the flesh. But the Scieron Changeling didn't even flinch; instead, he closed with the bright red biped, neatly twisted its piscine head around backward with a terrible wet cracking sound and let the corpse drop.
Then he was scrambling to his partner's side, pulling the older man into his arms, his pierced left hand spasming as he forced it to work.
"I've got you, Jack," Ianto called quietly, the lost child look in his eyes. "I'll keep you safe till you make it back."
He held Harkness close; felt the man's heart stop as his eyes went dark and blank. The young brunette could hear Gwen struggling to get through to them. Was aware that she took the time to re-stun and securely restrain the three surviving Blowfish. Then she was kneeling close by, her green eyes wide and worried. They sat for nearly twenty full minutes, but Jack didn't make his normal gasping recovery.
"Why is it taking so long?" Ianto whispered tightly, his hands starting to shake as he shifted his hold on his partner and stroked the lifeless brunette's hair back from his forehead.
"I'm going to call Turlough to bring the van for that lot," Cooper stated decisively, trying to stay calm. "I'll have Martha come with him, yeah?"
Ianto didn't answer, he was staring into the blank eyes of the man cradled in his arms, tears beginning to slip silently from his own, oblivious to the Captain's blood soaking the front of his shirt. Worried but at a loss, his friend activated her comms and requested assistance, moved briefly to re-stun their feebly stirring captives. When she looked back at the young Welshman, she could see despair coiling in the depths of his normally bright blue-grey eyes, his breathing becoming fast and irregular.
"Easy, sweetheart," the former constable coached, reaching out to put a comforting hand on the twenty-six-year old's injured shoulder. "This was nastier than most things we've seen. It's just taking him a little longer to patch everything back together is all. Better a longer wait than to have him come back with the wounds still open, yeah?"
Ianto nodded mutely, but there was still misery in his eyes and tears continued to trickle unnoticed down his face. The trembling in his limbs was more pronounced as he pulled Harkness even closer and lightly kissed him on the lips.
"Please, Jack..." he breathed shakily; his voice barely audible. "Wake up..."
As though the kiss and desperate plea had finally opened the door between worlds, the older immortal took a huge straining gasp of air and started to struggle.
"You're safe, I've got you..." Ianto wept, his relief plainly evident. "You're okay..."
Harkness panted heavily for a moment, clutching the younger man's arm where it crossed his chest to both support and restrain him. Then he slowly went back to breathing normally, shifted to sit upright once more. Ianto helped him, trying to ignore the too familiar pain icing through his own chest and making his heart beat ever faster.
Jack rubbed at the residual blood on his neck, pressed a hand to the sticky area on his side where the other bullet had gone through. He tried to stand, both of his team members offering ready support. Once on his feet, the Captain looked down at the group of Blowfish and frowned.
"Well, we were supposed to take them alive," he grated, half shrugging. "Guess not everyone got the memo."
"Don't you even start," Gwen snapped, pointing an angry finger at the greatcoat clad brunette. "If you wanted them alive that badly, you wouldn't've had us bring the regular guns along. What the hell are we going to do with them anyhow? Leave them in the cells forever? Turn them into frozen fish fingers? Feed them to the Weevils?"
"Vaults for now," the immortal American stated firmly. "Ugh... I need to get out of this shirt. The blood's getting really sticky and clammy."
"Why..." Ianto murmured hesitantly from where he still stood by the destroyed fireplace. "Why don't you have Gwen drive you back to the Hub? I'll stay and help with loading the van, ride back with the others."
"You sure?" Jack queried, eyes drawn to the blood stain and cut fabric across the younger man's left shoulder, then down to his hand on the same side where the penetrating wound continued to drip dark crimson.
"Just a scratch," Jones reassured, making a dismissive face as he tried to hide how hard it was becoming for him to breathe. "Go get out of that ruined shirt. I'll take your coat to the cleaners once I've patched the hole, yeah?"
"Have Martha check that," Harkness insisted, rubbing his neck again and heading through the debris toward the front threshold, Cooper sticking close to make sure he was steady on his feet.
The SUV started up a moment later, and Ianto sank to his knees with a moan. If he'd been faster, he wouldn't have gotten hurt again. If he'd paid closer attention to the downed Blowfish, the loathsome slab of worm-bait wouldn't have gotten the chance to use its concealed weapon... and he wouldn't have been so afraid waiting for Jack to overcome the terrible wounds the gun had inflicted. Wouldn't have ended up killing the shooter or its stubborn companion, wouldn't have disappointed his Captain.
Darkness began closing in around the Changeling as he slumped back into the corner between the fireplace bricks and the closest wall stud, his heart racing, lungs burning, chest now so tight all he could do was gasp. His muscles started to spasm, reflux crawling up to burn the back of his throat as his stomach churned, his spine tensing. It was happening again, the thing that proved he was wrong somehow, the flaw his partner may have sensed the reason he seemed to doubt him more and more recently.
"No...!"
Ianto cried out, his voice strangled and broken as he tried to deny the inevitable. But the seizure took him anyway, plunging him into darkness not unlike death. When he blinked back to awareness, he was still wedged against the derelict fireplace, his pierced hand gripping the hearth edge with knuckle popping force, blood pooled beneath it and smearing the bricks behind him near his injured shoulder. The twenty-six-year-old was panting for breath as he fought the urge to cry, his unsteady gaze wandering to the right, briefly settling on the splashes of drying crimson there then going to the sticky stains on his jacket sleeves, shirt front and tie. Blood... Jack's blood. A frightened whimper escaped him and the tears won free.
Ianto didn't realise he was no longer alone, until Martha put an arm around him in an attempt to quiet his gut-wrenching sobbing and started asking what was wrong. How badly was he hurt? Had something happened after Jack revived and headed out with Gwen?
"It... it took so long..." the young Welshman wept when he could finally string two words together at least semi-coherently. "I... I was afraid..."
"You were worried he wouldn't come back this time because it took a lot longer than usual," Martha surmised, trying to get a look at her friend's injuries. "But he did, yeah?"
"My fault..." Ianto whispered tearfully, his guilt and misery obvious. "Not fast enough... not careful enough..."
"That's not what Gwen said," the jumper clad physician insisted. "She said you took care of business brilliantly, and the one that shot Jack was her target to start. Plus, our good Captain always takes way too many chances. This wasn't your fault or anyone else's, Ianto, it just happened."
She did a quick gauze wrap on the young Archivist's hand, slid a large non-stick pad through the tear in his clothes to cover the ugly gash across his shoulder.
"Come on," Martha urged, working to get her still violently trembling teammate on his feet and out to the vehicle. "Just sit for a bit here in the front... Turlough and I'll load the troublemakers in the back, and we'll head for the Hub. Try to relax..."
The young doctor got her fellow Jones settled in the van's front passenger seat and closed the door. It was only a couple minutes past the noon hour, they'd already responded to six Rift spikes just since 6:30 am and no-one knew how many more there'd be between now and the next morning. But whatever the case, the young Changeling in the van needed a little down time before he pushed himself into a total physical and emotional collapse. And Martha was determined to get it for him.
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AN: I agree with Martha… Ianto is working himself to a frazzle and needs some time off. Poor boy is still so unsettled in his new life.
Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM