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Title: Torchwood Hallowe'en
Chapter: 03/08
Characters: Janto Team!fic
Author: [personal profile] a_silver_story
Genre Horrorrrrrr.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Erm ... hopefully it's scary. Minor gore.
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.


Summary: Ianto decides to do the decade-ly inventory of the Archives - with rather scary results (and I'm not talking about bad organisation skills). Slight crossover with Doctor Who S3.


Note #1: This story was written the October before 'The Time of Angels' and 'Flesh and Stone' aired, so please don't message me regarding any inconsistencies with canon you may find.

Note #2: I've deleted the original version of this from LJ, and am posting this corrected version one chapter at a time, one day at a time.




Toshiko threw down her pencil. "How did the team that originally brought them in get them in that room?" she asked.

Ianto shrugged. "Doesn't say in the reports. Just says they were found after several cases of mysterious disappearances by Saint Mary's Church in the early forties."

"They were never mentioned to me," grumbled Jack. "Then again, in the forties I was ... elsewhere. Several times."

They were sat on the couch opposite the workstations, Toshiko and Jack leaning over several scrunched up sheets of paper trying to figure out what to do while Owen had gathered every reflective surface they had together to try and create some form of defence. Ianto had already taken some of the ones Owen had super-glued – watching the sharper knives and scalpels – and positioned them precariously by the tunnel that led to the Archives in the hope that Weeping Angels wouldn't be able to get past them. Some of the surfaces were duller than others, and none of them were sure whether or not a murky reflection would be enough to stop them.

"How long until we need to reset the lockdown?" asked Jack.

Ianto checked his watch. "Forty minutes."

"I think we need to call Gwen in," he sighed. "Three pairs of living eyes are far more effective than two, I'd think."

"What about me?" pointed out Toshiko.

"We need to keep the brains of the outfit safe. It's just a coincidence you're the beauty, too," winked Jack.

She flushed delicately, picked up her pencil and got back to her mind-mapping. Ianto was already dialling Gwen's number.

"Hello?"

"Gwen, hi ... it's Ianto. Listen ... erm ... we're in a little bit of trouble, so could you possibly come in for a couple of hours or so? Just ... need to contain something."

"What about Owen and Tosh?"

"We need the full team. Owen and Tosh are already here. Listen: aim to be here in about forty minutes. We're in lockdown at the moment, and that's when it'll end. You need to come down on the hydraulic lift so that we'll be out of lockdown for as short a time as possible."

She sighed down the phone. "All right, Ianto. I'm coming."

Ianto hung up and turned to the others. "Gwen's going to aim to be here in forty minutes. She's coming down on the lift to save time out of lockdown."

"Good, good," Jack replied absently, reading as Toshiko was scribbling, pointing at a couple of things and sighing as she crossed them out.

"Is there anything significant about the fact the lights in the tunnel go off when the lights in the mirror room go on?" Ianto asked, crossing back to Gwen's workstation to check the CCTV feeds again.

"There must be," replied Toshiko, rubbing her forehead in stress.

"I don't understand why there wasn't a proper report written," Ianto mutttered to himself. "Unless ... Jack!"

"Huh?"

Ianto spun in his chair to face him. "If Torchwood captures something living and intelligent – and keeps it permanently on site – what's the procedure for filing the reports? Surely it'd be different in case the intelligent being escaped and didn't want anyone to know how to recapture it?" He didn't wait for a reply before turning back to his screens and accessing the Archive program. It took nearly two minutes to complete the security procedures to access the catalogue for the Secure Archives, but when he did he let out a 'yesssss!' of triumph.

"The Weeping Angels," he read aloud, "were captured in 1943 in the cemetery by Saint Mary's Church, as well as a whole nest of Weevils and tons and tons of weird Rift energy. They didn't really bother with the nest – just stunned the lot of them and left them to it. The Angels, however, had to be captured: nearly thirty disappearances from the time they were first sighted to when they were contained."

"But how were they contained?" asked Owen, nearly gluing his fingers to the metal kidney dish he was trying to stick to a pole at what he hoped was Angel eye-level.

"The only copy is in the Secure Archives safe in Jack's office."

"Go fetch," Jack said, and Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Keep your eye on the CCTV, then," he sighed as he got up to go and find the papers. "Does anyone want coffee while I'm up?"

His request was met with enthusiastic agreement, and he quickly retrieved the reports, set them down in front of Toshiko and crossed to his coffee machine. He hesitated, then nearly dropped the bag of beans.

"Guys! There's one round the corner!"

They all sprang to their feet, desperate to look.

"She's seen her reflection," Owen sighed in relief. "She's probably been there a while."

"Hope so," muttered Ianto. "So where are her friends?"

There was a crash behind them, and they all flinched and turned, seeing a large chunk of debris had been thrown straight into –

"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" wailed Jack. "The coffee machine!"

He ran over to it, pulling uselessly at the handles as if examining a team mate for damage. The machine sparked, then went out completely.

Ianto was shaking, staring at his broken apparatus. "Oh ... now it's personal."

"Those bitches are gonna pay," growled Jack, glancing up then pointing down the corridor. "Two Angels."

The other Angel was practically all the way down the corridor, having run blindly to avoid her reflection and covering her eyes with an arm. She looked like the heroine of an old Victorian melodrama.

"I bet it was her!" Jack grumbled. "She covered her eyes and threw the thing and it killed the coffee machine!"

He marched right up to her, stuck his arms out in front of him and tried to push her over. His attempt was in vain, however.

"Fetch my big gun!" he ordered.

Owen didn't move, but Ianto ran to retrieve it. "The big gun won't help," Owen reminded them.

"Helps me!" snapped Ianto, cocking it and aiming. He fired twice, totally decimating the first Angel and blowing the head off the one poking round the corner. Jack defiantly didn't blink, took the gun from Ianto, closed his eyes deliberately and allowed the monster to pull herself back together again. With a BOOM and the clatter of shattered stone, she was blown apart in a haze of dust and hot fire.

Jack and Ianto high-fived each other, and Jack gave the Angel he'd left in one piece a 'don't mess' glare. The next chance she got, she had disappeared, the hem of the other Angel's skirts, newly reformed, frozen mid-whip as she followed her.

"They better retreat," muttered Jack with a scowl.

"Or regroup," suggested Ianto. "I think we need more reflecti- oooh! I've had a thought!"

"What?"

"What if we put little mirrors in their hands? That way if they cover their eyes, they'll end up looking at themselves."

"Only if they open their eyes," Jack pointed out.

"Oh ... oh yeah ... worth a try, though."

"Yeah."

They walked over to the sofa where Toshiko was still reading through the Secure Archives report from when the Angels were originally brought in.

"Well?" asked Jack, as Ianto resumed monitoring his CCTV feeds and Owen returned to gluing shiny things together.

"The main premise of the original team's tactic revolved around the fact the Angels didn't know it was a mirrored room," she sighed. "They turned the lights in the room off and hid in there, waited for the Angels to come hunting. One by the light switch, the others at the opposite side of the room with their eyes shut as bait. Guy on the lights spots the Angels coming, shuts his eyes, checks their progress every couple of seconds. Once they were all in the room, on with the light and the Angels were stuck. The lights going on when the others lights are off was so that they'd see the Angels in the corridor without giving away too much, as well as also being the result of an energy drain to the mirror room's lights."

"Hang on ... the Angels could control the light bulb in the corridor when we were down there before,” Owen recalled. "Why didn't they switch off the lights in the mirrored room?"

"They were lights from the future, or reproductions of the technology. Didn't give off a form of light energy the Angels could manipulate," explained Toshiko.

"So ..." Jack began, "... the original theory was pretty similar to the Angels' own hunting techniques. Bait, watchman – or woman – and the element of surprise."

They were all on edge, and jumped inordinately high when the lockdown suddenly lifted and all the doors unbolted and un-deadlocked. Instantly the hydraulic lift began its descent, Gwen atop and looking very grumpy and wet. She was also sporting mouse ears, drawn on whiskers and a black-tipped nose.

"What's the problem?" she asked, stepping off the lift as Ianto went to reset the lockdown. The sound of everything sealing again echoed through the Hub, and they all felt suddenly very trapped.

They explained to her about the Angels, what they did and how they had been let out. They told her about their Quantum Lock and how it worked, as well as how the original team had first imprisoned them.

She nodded and listened, glancing over Toshiko's shoulder to look at her drafts of a plan.

Ianto still felt like it was his fault. He mentally kicked himself yet again, pulling the lever to reset the partial lockdown and taking a deep breath to calm his unsettled, guilt-ridden stomach. He frowned and did a double take, running his eyes over the scattered equipment, sure he hadn't left the far work table in such a state. He stepped over some cabling, mind set on tidying it up at least a little bit – make it presentable, at the very least – and moved a couple of things around.

He definitely hadn't left it like this. Some things looked as if they were broken, some things looked ... smashed or dismantled. When had this happened?

Ianto set down the device he was holding and caught the reflection on the metal table just in time. He spun.

Blood ran to ice in his body, his brow turned cold, his heart pounded so hard in his chest it nearly hurt. His skin was tingling with adrenaline, his hairs were standing on end, his eyes were aching with the effort of keeping them open and his legs became heavy and immobile as lead.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

She was too close.







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