Thank you again for the lovely response to my first stab at horror (yeah sorry couldn't resist). Another cliff approaches, not quite so high.
(Warning: Swearing in this chapter.
Warning to Twilight fans: Mild Cullen-snipe.)
It was true, what they said about your life flashing before your eyes. The indecipherable green text was unexpected, though. Apparently past life flashes came with subtitles.
But Ianto remembered this, the metallic sting against his neck, the warm trickle of blood along his skin, the roaring in his ears that echoed all the way through to his bones. Couldn't have been his first kiss or something, could it? No, Ianto Jones doesn't get the good bits; he gets to do the cannibals again.
Though admittedly, the roaring was quite like that tractor, or no, it was Jack roaring, how about that? So at least it was the rescue part he was reliving. He could even smell the faint hint of Gwen's perfume from behind him, holding him as she had that day, while Jack slew the monsters. Disabled them, at least.
And then he was awake, really awake, sprawled in an alley in a blood-stained dinner suit, and Jack was there, as Ianto assured himself he'd always known he would be, breaking the creature's hold on his wrists and shoving him away. "Run," Jack yelled, not that he needed to, because Ianto was already pushing his shaking legs as hard as he could.
Jack didn't follow, obviously intent on distracting the thing so Ianto could get clear, but it flitted right past the tall man bellowing defiance, intent on the prey it had already marked out. Jack yelled again, a panicked order Ianto couldn't decipher, and then sprang in front of the creature once more, eyes blazing and legs braced. He looked fantastic, Ianto thought admiringly, his brain taking off on a tangent with an ease that only proved his mind was still scrambled. The fresh rush of adrenaline was handy, however, firming his legs from overcooked pasta to aldente.
Ianto got around a corner, to the laneway at the back of the club, lamentably free of the requisite gang of toughs having a smoke, before he had to pause for breath. Somewhere around here was one of the hidey holes he'd identified earlier, to fill the boring waiting time which was now proving productive after all. Two rubbish skips, side by side but with one not pushed back properly, leaving a gap between it and the wall which would shield him on three sides. Ianto crammed himself in, right into the sheltered corner, and strained his ears. Over the shuddering of his breath, he could hear the rustle of the creature. Still hunting. Hunting him. Made sense. Injured prey was the easiest to track down.
He wasn't going to think about what it might have done to Jack. Jack would be fine. He would.
There was a crash and a rattle from the alley. Ianto tensed, waiting.
Someone thumped to the ground nearby. Too near. The something blocked the light and it was a bit late to realize that a good bolt hole needs more than one exit. The shape moved, closer, a shadowy tendril reaching towards him. Ianto tried to wriggle backwards, but there was no room. He hoped he wasn't whimpering.
A hand closed over his mouth, and Ianto nearly bit into it before catching the scent of perfume again and realising it belonged to Gwen, after which he came damned close to sobbing into it. He wasn't sure who started the hug, but he wouldn't be the one who broke it. They crouched silently, arms around whatever bit they could reach. Gwen murmured something in his ear, something that sounded worried, after which she tugged the handkerchief free from his breast pocket and pressed it hard against his neck.
Ianto's mind began to grope its way towards coherent thought. That damp feeling on his neck was blood. He was still bleeding, then, and Gwen had put the hanky over it to staunch the flow. Ironic that the pressed square of linen was the only piece of the outfit he'd intended to use again. It appeared to be helping, though, given that his thought processes seemed to be coming back on-line, but Gwen couldn't sit there all night holding his neck shut.
Ianto reached up with a hand still annoyingly unsteady, and tugged the annoying bow tie from under his collar so Gwen could use it to fasten the wad of cloth in place. Gwen smiled down at him, and there followed a silent flurry of activity during which the bothersome contact lenses were removed and his Bluetooth, miraculously undamaged, hooked back into place. Familiar voices clamored blessedly in his ears, delivering a comforting if premature sense of safety.
"Took your time, Cooper," Owen snarked. "He was meant to be bait, not a snack."
Tosh failed to squash Owen, which meant she agreed.
"I was on the roof," Gwen hissed back. "I saw him trip but how was I to know it was the alien helping him up?" She looked down at Ianto, eyes shouting a silent apology at odds with her words. He smiled weakly in understanding. You couldn't admit things like that to Owen. "And when I got to him he ran away," Gwen continued. "I had to go back over the roof to find him again."
Ianto blinked. Maybe he hadn't imagined that first sniff of perfume. She'd been there, too. All along. He squeezed Gwen's hand and somehow they were hugging again.
A shadow passed, stopped, and then Jack slid in beside them, elbowing Gwen aside and wrapping Ianto in his own embrace. Ianto saw Gwen smile before she turned deliberately to the entrance of their hiding spot, giving them the illusion of privacy while Jack did that energy transfer thing. 'Cause it was a ridiculous time to be snogging.
A sudden, raucous rattle made them break apart. Jack drew back with a grin on his face, one arm still firmly around Ianto's shoulders.
"I slowed it down a bit," he whispered. As if summoned, a dustbin rolled past, spilling out its contents as it went and coming to rest against the wall ahead. "Tripped it over," Jack elaborated smugly. "The old 'roll a bin at it' strategy." Outside, metal continued to rattle.
"I'd say, several bins," Gwen noted.
"Not elegant, but effective," Jack replied, with a justified amount of smugness. "Let's move before it catches up. We should have a few minutes while it untangles itself."
With Ianto supported between them, against unconvincing protests, they got around to the next side of the building, another dingy alley, opening back into the street, where Ianto directed them to a jumble of cardboard boxes haphazardly stacked until recycling day, which might provide shelter and renewed obstacles to a giant mosquito intent on its dinner.
"What's our status?" Jack asked, as they slid behind the stack of cartons. His brisk tone was at complete odds with his actions, Gwen thought, something catching in her throat as she watched Jack arrange Ianto carefully against his shoulder. Ianto appeared more resigned than appreciative. They were as bad as each other, Gwen decided, before dragging her mind back to more immediate concerns.
"I have a fix on it," Tosh reported with satisfaction. "Ianto got the tracker into it beautifully.
"Possibly literally," Ianto added, shuddering as he recalled the sickening feeling of the metal disc sinking into the flesh wrapped around his.
Jack teeth flashed as he grinned. "The bait that bit back," he said with approval. "It'll slink off now, and we can track it down at out leisure. Good work."
Ianto didn't respond. But he'd always handled insults far better than praise, so it didn't strike anyone as odd.
"It hasn't slunk yet," Tosh warned. "It's still moving. Snooping around the last place you stopped, I think."
"Got his scent, then," Jack said. "We'll have to get him away quickly." Gwen saw his lower lip slide between his teeth, displaying the concern he wouldn't show in his voice. Pity Ianto couldn't see it, tucked into Jack's shoulder as he was. Tucked very still, she noted, with her own concern rising as she reached for the sodden material at Ianto's throat.
"Is that still bleeding?" she asked anxiously.
"I'll check," Jack said. He brushed his lips against Ianto's cheek before peeling away the makeshift bandage, which he shoved towards Gwen for disposal without so much as looking at her, then commenced a minute inspection of the puncture wounds.
Gwen couldn't help smiling at Jack's possessiveness, in spite of the danger, or perhaps because of it. She was fairly sure she heard a cooing sound over the comm., though it was pretty much drowned out by Owen's snort.
"Shit." Jack slapped a hand hastily over the wound. "Owen, the bite's bleeding again," he announced. "Started when I took the pressure off, assuming it ever stopped. The dressing was soaked through."
Gwen winced at the blood now trickling steadily from beneath Jack's hand. Something was wrong. A tiny wound like that ought to have clotted already.
"There has to be venom still in the bite," Owen decided. "Something to keep the blood flowing. I'm on my way."
Ianto stirred. Jack pressed him back down gently, and then gathered him into his arms, murmuring soothingly in response Ianto's muffled protests.
Gwen looked away, a pang within her that she'd examine later, and realised with distaste that she still had the discarded dressing in her hand. She swallowed against rising nausea, then slipped out into the alleyway, with an idea forming in her mind and a hand on the butt of her gun.
Jack spared Gwen a brief, searching glance as she crept back into their cardboard tower. "What took you so long?" he demanded.
"I planted a bit of a false trail with the old dressing," Gwen answered, feeling quite proud of herself for the notion and determinedly not thinking about how she'd done it. "Into a couple of futile-looking hiding places and back. Then I left it wedged right into an awkward corner. Should give us some breathing space."
Ianto smiled weakly. "I have to admit I could use some," he said, with what Gwen considered massive understatement. His usually pale complexion was well on the way to translucent. Jack had another pad of material – from his T-shirt, Gwen thought – bow-tied to Ianto's neck, but she could already see a red tinge growing from the centre.
Jack nodded his approval, giving her an almost-genuine smile which didn't mask the anxiety in his eyes. "Owen will be here soon."
"He's stationary," Tosh said, and there was no mistaking the level of accusation in her tone.
"I'm stuck in traffic," Owen retorted. "Two blocks away and it might as well be ten. Taxis jamming every corner and people in the streets fighting over them. Clubs must be closing. Nice timing, Teaboy."
"So sorry," Ianto said, his best deadpan voice marred by breathlessness. "Exsanguinations are a damned awkward thing to timetable."
"Especially premature exsanguinations," Owen growled back. "Cut the drama Coffeeboy. You'd have lost more donating to the blood bank." He didn't sound confident enough to be convincing, and he knew it. "Just hang in there, you little shit, do you hear me?"
"Him and the rest of Cardiff," Tosh put in, sounding a bit less annoyed than before. "Now, Owen, fewer threats and more driving. Don't slow for the lights, they'll change as soon as you approach."
"He's been told," Jack said, smiling a tight smile down at the man twitching restlessly in his arms.
"Best you do as he says though, Ianto," Gwen said, and even to her own ears it sounded like a plea.
"That's an order," Jack added.
"Sir, yes Sir," Ianto replied. "Wouldn't dream of disobeying orders. Especially not from the lot of you."
Gwen looked away, afraid of what she'd see if she met Jack's eyes.
"It's stopped again," Tosh reported. "The…..the….thing."
"Megamozzie," Ianto supplied. Gwen did look up, then. His voice was stronger, she thought, with a stirring of hope. Maybe the new dressing was helping.
Owen snickered. "We have to have a chat about what constitutes a cool name, mate. I'm past those lights, just have to get through a shitload of taxis and assorted pedestrians."
"I don't think that creature deserves a cool name," Ianto retorted. "It's got no class. It didn't even bother to grow itself a cloak. What's a vampire without a cloak?"
"A Cullen?" Tosh suggested.
Jack cleared his throat, quite pointedly. "Gwen's bought us some time," he explained, giving Gwen a properly grateful smile this time. "But I don't want to move Ianto again until Owen's in place. Tosh, can't you do something about the traffic?"
"It's a jam, Jack," Tosh said impatiently. "I've had the cabs ordered back to base already, but you can bet they're still trying for fares to take with them, and I can't account for all the parents or partners or whatever else doing pick-ups. And the cars still can't move with all the people milling around, so…."
"Deep breaths, Toshiko," Owen ordered, in the 'doctor' voice none of them argued with.
"But there must be something we can do, Owen," Gwen said desperately.
"I don't think…" Ianto began, but Tosh's voice override his, pitched high with annoyance.
"You're unbelievable," she snapped. "Pick him up and carry him, for God's sake."
"Which won't cause a panic at all," Owen sniffed. "Someone being carried out of an alley dripping blood will only bring every security guard running."
"Not to mention the Megamozzie," Ianto put in.
"We could wrap him in…." Gwen eyed Jack's coat, noting that Ianto had somehow managed not to bleed on it.
"Oh yeah, that'll help," Owen agreed. "A wrapped body-shaped bundle won't raise a single eyebrow."
"Surely I ought to…." Ianto started, but Jack shushed him with a finger across his lips, which Ianto was sorely tempted to bite.
"I could try the old cowboy standby," Jack suggested hopefully. "Suck the venom out."
Ianto shook his head, dislodging the finger. "No," he protested, with an edge of panic in his voice. The prospect of Jack in the place of that monster turned his already unruly stomach.
Jack pouted. Gwen reached across to squeeze Ianto's hand comfortingly. "I won't let him," she promised.
"And once he's safely back," Tosh said, in a sweet tone that didn't disguise the threat beneath it, "I'll explain how tactless that was, Jack. I might have to slap you a few times first, though."
"We can alternate so your hand doesn't get tired," Gwen offered.
"Will the lot of you stop trying to out-snark each other and fucking listen?" Ianto hissed.
Tosh gasped. Gwen and Jack stared at him with identical expressions of shock. The best thing about not swearing very often, Ianto mused with satisfaction, was the impact when you let loose. Even Owen was struck dumb, an event worthy of an entry in his diary, assuming he survived long enough to write one.
"I'm going back out into the alley," Ianto announced.
Did you really think he'd let them bundle him off to safety?
Might be a delay with the next chapter, sorry. I know I said it was complete, but I've realised why I didn't post it before - the original ending sucks. (Couldn't resist that one either.) Will try not to keep you waiting long. Thanks for reading.