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a_silver_storyOkie dokie! Here's my second pilot! The only warning here is an unfortunately canon Character Death.
Pilot II
Jack stared down into the ditch, hardly able to believe his eyes.
"You should be right on it, Jack," Toshiko was saying in his ear.
"Yeah ... thanks Tosh ... I ... I found it."
Carefully Jack lowered himself into the damp mud, feeling it squelch beneath his boots and biting his lip hard to keep from crying. "Owen," he croaked. "Owen, I need you at the second site now."
"On my way," came the reply.
Jack stood in the ditch, still unsure what to do with the latest disaster the Rift had decided to throw at them - if it had been the Rift that had done ... this.
He heard Owen's footsteps come to halt at the edge of the ditch, and the sharp intake of breath when he realised what he was looking at. "Shit!" he breathed, climbing down beside Jack. "What happened?"
"This ... this is what the Rift spat out," he said softly.
Owen crouched in the mud, taking a closer look, then stood again to put a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Together, they stared down in shocked silence, as the body of Ianto Jones lay spread-eagled before them.
~*~*~*~
"Ianto?" Owen barked into his earpiece once he'd managed to get the body and Jack in the SUV. He had wandered away in pretence of checking something else out, and was currently having no luck contacting Ianto.
He should have been at the hub. He should have been in the Archives. He should have been safe - so what the fuck was he doing out in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere, dead in a ditch? Owen's stomach was in the tightest knots, and he could barely keep his eyes from Jack's slumped and depressed, grief-ridden form leaning on the SUV for support.
"Ianto? Answer your fucking comms!"
"Sorry, Owen. You were speaking with such polite and dignified tones I could barely hear you."
"Oh thank God. I never thought I'd be this happy to hear your voice!"
The body was from the future ... the body was from the future ... we could stop this happening ....
Ianto hesitated. "Why? ... what have you inhaled?"
"It's not that ... it's ... erm ... I need you to do something. Urgent. And the girls can't know."
"I told you, Owen," Ianto replied with a sigh. "Those 'services' are for Jack only."
"Look, quit the snark. Just ... I need you to go to ... um ... Whittards."
"... Whittards." Ianto repeated. "You urgently need me to buy you some luxury coffee?"
"No ... I need you to check something out ...."
"The new range of leaf tea?"
"No .. it's something ... alien."
"The new range of leaf tea?"
"IANTO!" Owen practically cried in exasperation, making his way back towards the SUV where Jack was sitting numbly by Ianto's body. He'd refused to put the corpse in the boot, and had instead curled him up on the back seat, as if he was sleeping.
It always made Owen uncomfortable seeing corpses in such ways that reminded him that once, this had been a living breathing human, just like him, and that one day he would be stiff and dead. Just like that.
"Owen? Owen?"
Living Ianto was still in his ear. "Sorry ... got ... distracted .... erm ... Whittards! You need to go to Whittards in ... Manchester."
"Very funny Owen."
"I'm serious. The one on Market Street. We think that maybe an employee there is ... erm ... drugging some of the coffee."
"They're contaminating the coffee?"
"Yep. It's ... making people vomit these green worm things that then try and eat them."
"What makes you think it's the Manchester branch?"
"Because the woman we managed to save here said that's where she got the coffee from."
"What makes you so sure it's the coffee?"
"We found traces of it in the biological makeup of the worms?"
There was a moment of silence while Owen prayed Ianto would believe him.
"... okay. I'll get a fucking train. And tell Jack he can do his own leg work in the future!"
There was a click as Ianto closed the connection, and finally Owen turned his attention fully back to Jack. "Jack?"
"Mmm?" asked Jack, leaning through the middle of the front seats to stroke the corpse's hair.
"Ianto's fine, Jack. He's alive and well."
"Not for much longer ...." Jack replied dully. "... look at him ... can't be more than a year or two older ... not long left for him ... how did it happen? I can't find an injury ... I can't find ... did something get in the cut on his face? Was he gassed? Was he sick?"
"I'll do a proper autopsy when we get back to the hub and find out exactly how old he is, exactly how he died and exactly how we can stop it happening."
"How old he will be," corrected Jack, still running fingers through cold, lank hair. "How long until he dies ... and before that we realise that we can't stop it happening."
Owen climbed into the driver's seat and had to practically force Jack's hand off Ianto's body and back into the front seat of the car.
"Stop that," he chastised. "Believe me: it'll do you no good."
He checked his watch, then pulled out the computer console. He started searching for train times to Manchester, and figured out which one Ianto would most likely take and when he would leave the hub. There was one in half an hour, which meant that by the time they made it back to base Ianto would have most likely been on the train for five minutes.
Starting the engine, Owen glanced over at Jack. He was using the mirror in his sun visor to keep an eye on the body in the back, and Owen decided to just leave him to it. Taking a deep breath, he set off back towards the road, the silence pressing into the car on all sides.
"What was at the first site?" Jack asked when they stopped at traffic lights, referring to the other flare that had been local to the first that they had split up to investigate.
"Oh ... erm ... a box. I think it's DNA locked though, so fat chance us getting it open."
"Mmmm," agreed Jack. "Owen?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think ... do you think that ... I was there?"
"'There' when?"
"When he dies."
Owen bit his lip. It had been more than clear to all of them since Jack got back that he and Ianto had something. They were totally professional about it at work, and never let it interfere with Torchwood, but it was there. It would take an idiot not to see it. Owen couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like for Jack to have his worst fear suddenly thrown on top of him - to see Ianto dead and lifeless, lying in a muddy ditch with a cut deep into his cheek. Alone.
"I'll bet you are, Jack," Owen assured him. "I bet it's you that sends him back here so that we know how to save him."
"What if we can't?"
"I don't know about you, but I'm not giving up Ianto's coffee without a fight."
Jack gave a small laugh, but Owen knew better than to glance over. He was fairly certain there were silent tears running down the Captain's cheeks, so kept his eyes on the road. He hated it when people cried. He never, ever knew what to do.
"Tosh?" he called into his earpiece as they neared the garage. "Has Ianto gone?"
"He left a quarter of an hour ago, and he wasn't happy."
"Great ... well ... Tosh ... I need to prepare you for something ...."
Pilot II
Jack stared down into the ditch, hardly able to believe his eyes.
"You should be right on it, Jack," Toshiko was saying in his ear.
"Yeah ... thanks Tosh ... I ... I found it."
Carefully Jack lowered himself into the damp mud, feeling it squelch beneath his boots and biting his lip hard to keep from crying. "Owen," he croaked. "Owen, I need you at the second site now."
"On my way," came the reply.
Jack stood in the ditch, still unsure what to do with the latest disaster the Rift had decided to throw at them - if it had been the Rift that had done ... this.
He heard Owen's footsteps come to halt at the edge of the ditch, and the sharp intake of breath when he realised what he was looking at. "Shit!" he breathed, climbing down beside Jack. "What happened?"
"This ... this is what the Rift spat out," he said softly.
Owen crouched in the mud, taking a closer look, then stood again to put a hand on Jack's shoulder.
Together, they stared down in shocked silence, as the body of Ianto Jones lay spread-eagled before them.
"Ianto?" Owen barked into his earpiece once he'd managed to get the body and Jack in the SUV. He had wandered away in pretence of checking something else out, and was currently having no luck contacting Ianto.
He should have been at the hub. He should have been in the Archives. He should have been safe - so what the fuck was he doing out in the countryside, in the middle of nowhere, dead in a ditch? Owen's stomach was in the tightest knots, and he could barely keep his eyes from Jack's slumped and depressed, grief-ridden form leaning on the SUV for support.
"Ianto? Answer your fucking comms!"
"Sorry, Owen. You were speaking with such polite and dignified tones I could barely hear you."
"Oh thank God. I never thought I'd be this happy to hear your voice!"
The body was from the future ... the body was from the future ... we could stop this happening ....
Ianto hesitated. "Why? ... what have you inhaled?"
"It's not that ... it's ... erm ... I need you to do something. Urgent. And the girls can't know."
"I told you, Owen," Ianto replied with a sigh. "Those 'services' are for Jack only."
"Look, quit the snark. Just ... I need you to go to ... um ... Whittards."
"... Whittards." Ianto repeated. "You urgently need me to buy you some luxury coffee?"
"No ... I need you to check something out ...."
"The new range of leaf tea?"
"No .. it's something ... alien."
"The new range of leaf tea?"
"IANTO!" Owen practically cried in exasperation, making his way back towards the SUV where Jack was sitting numbly by Ianto's body. He'd refused to put the corpse in the boot, and had instead curled him up on the back seat, as if he was sleeping.
It always made Owen uncomfortable seeing corpses in such ways that reminded him that once, this had been a living breathing human, just like him, and that one day he would be stiff and dead. Just like that.
"Owen? Owen?"
Living Ianto was still in his ear. "Sorry ... got ... distracted .... erm ... Whittards! You need to go to Whittards in ... Manchester."
"Very funny Owen."
"I'm serious. The one on Market Street. We think that maybe an employee there is ... erm ... drugging some of the coffee."
"They're contaminating the coffee?"
"Yep. It's ... making people vomit these green worm things that then try and eat them."
"What makes you think it's the Manchester branch?"
"Because the woman we managed to save here said that's where she got the coffee from."
"What makes you so sure it's the coffee?"
"We found traces of it in the biological makeup of the worms?"
There was a moment of silence while Owen prayed Ianto would believe him.
"... okay. I'll get a fucking train. And tell Jack he can do his own leg work in the future!"
There was a click as Ianto closed the connection, and finally Owen turned his attention fully back to Jack. "Jack?"
"Mmm?" asked Jack, leaning through the middle of the front seats to stroke the corpse's hair.
"Ianto's fine, Jack. He's alive and well."
"Not for much longer ...." Jack replied dully. "... look at him ... can't be more than a year or two older ... not long left for him ... how did it happen? I can't find an injury ... I can't find ... did something get in the cut on his face? Was he gassed? Was he sick?"
"I'll do a proper autopsy when we get back to the hub and find out exactly how old he is, exactly how he died and exactly how we can stop it happening."
"How old he will be," corrected Jack, still running fingers through cold, lank hair. "How long until he dies ... and before that we realise that we can't stop it happening."
Owen climbed into the driver's seat and had to practically force Jack's hand off Ianto's body and back into the front seat of the car.
"Stop that," he chastised. "Believe me: it'll do you no good."
He checked his watch, then pulled out the computer console. He started searching for train times to Manchester, and figured out which one Ianto would most likely take and when he would leave the hub. There was one in half an hour, which meant that by the time they made it back to base Ianto would have most likely been on the train for five minutes.
Starting the engine, Owen glanced over at Jack. He was using the mirror in his sun visor to keep an eye on the body in the back, and Owen decided to just leave him to it. Taking a deep breath, he set off back towards the road, the silence pressing into the car on all sides.
"What was at the first site?" Jack asked when they stopped at traffic lights, referring to the other flare that had been local to the first that they had split up to investigate.
"Oh ... erm ... a box. I think it's DNA locked though, so fat chance us getting it open."
"Mmmm," agreed Jack. "Owen?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you think ... do you think that ... I was there?"
"'There' when?"
"When he dies."
Owen bit his lip. It had been more than clear to all of them since Jack got back that he and Ianto had something. They were totally professional about it at work, and never let it interfere with Torchwood, but it was there. It would take an idiot not to see it. Owen couldn't even begin to imagine what it must be like for Jack to have his worst fear suddenly thrown on top of him - to see Ianto dead and lifeless, lying in a muddy ditch with a cut deep into his cheek. Alone.
"I'll bet you are, Jack," Owen assured him. "I bet it's you that sends him back here so that we know how to save him."
"What if we can't?"
"I don't know about you, but I'm not giving up Ianto's coffee without a fight."
Jack gave a small laugh, but Owen knew better than to glance over. He was fairly certain there were silent tears running down the Captain's cheeks, so kept his eyes on the road. He hated it when people cried. He never, ever knew what to do.
"Tosh?" he called into his earpiece as they neared the garage. "Has Ianto gone?"
"He left a quarter of an hour ago, and he wasn't happy."
"Great ... well ... Tosh ... I need to prepare you for something ...."
