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m_findlowTitle: Tough at the top
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 195 - Bad day at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
Summary: Being in charge of Torchwood is harder than it looks.
Rule number eight - never tackle a rift alert on your own, Ianto thought, reminding himself of the rules that he himself had devised and then failed to share with anyone. Apart from rule number one which Jack had first invented - never mess with the rift - the rest only existed for Torchwood's newest leader. One thing he intended on doing was making them more widely known, and then he was going to start fixing his internal numbering system to re-prioritise them in order of importance rather than the order in which he'd come up with them.
The rift alert had been picked up whilst he was out in the SUV, returning to the hub from an unpleasant but not entirely unproductive meeting with the First Minister. He had the benefit of receiving rift alerts a few minutes before they reached the hub's normal systems. It was the benefit of being in charge that he had a heads up on things before they hit the radar of his team. He took the alert off their systems before it even reached the team. He was only a few miles from where it had originated. By the time he could coordinate a team to get out here, whatever it was could have crawled away, or if it was inanimate, someone who shouldn't, might lay their hands on it and get hurt.
Out in the field again, Ianto thought with a small grin as he pulled the SUV into a complete u-turn across four lanes of traffic. Now that he was in charge it was all paperwork and phone calls, not that he didn't mind doing all of that - much more than Jack ever had in any case. But for every meeting, email and phone call, it meant far less time out and about, getting his hands dirty and being at the coalface of the action. He could appreciate why Jack hated leadership administration. Being in the thick of the action was way more fun.
He followed the GPS heads-up display out towards the wetlands. The tiny dot that was being registered now by the residual rift radiation marked it as living, or at least mobile. One time he'd mistaken the signs for a living creature only to have Jack come back carting a mini rover bot that was continuing to run around until its battery depleted. He fingered his wedding band. This time his husband wouldn't be able to mock him for that same error.
He pulled over the car at the edge of the wetlands, knowing better than to drive any further out and risk bogging the vehicle. It was heavier than it looked and the marshy ground was unpredictable at best. He popped open the glovebox and pulled out his gun, checking it was loaded and ready to go before getting out of the car.
He scanned the grey horizon for any signs of movement. It didn't take long until he spotted something that wasn't a large waterbird or a seagull. ‘What is that?’ he muttered to himself, spying the large bulbous body slowly dragging itself along the ground using some sort of long proboscis. He slowly approached, keeping a careful distance between himself and the thing that looked like something out of the little shop of horrors. Now up closer he could see that its body was about the size of a large pilates ball, and the long thing on top had a sentience all its own, along with a very nasty looking hooked barb.
‘Okay, you beastie. You just stay there and I'll come back with a nice big tranquilliser gun and my nets. Ianto Jones, head of Torchwood Global and intergalactic game hunter.’
He stepped slowly backwards, retreating when something hard and sharp came whipping out of nowhere and stabbed him in the neck once, then twice more. He cried out as he reached up, feeling thick warm blood and his legs went out from under him. He landed on his back, head lolling to one side as he felt all the sensation ebbing from his body. As he looked across he saw a second large barbed proboscis writhing above the waterline. Damn. There'd been two of them; one luring him out there whilst the other lay in wait under the water.
He felt his hand going tingly and realised he'd been paralysed by whatever toxins had stabbed him. Before he lost all his dexterity, he managed to get off a few gun shots. Two hit the snaking barb almost at its base and it flopped into the water and disappeared. Two more hit the land dwelling creature, obliterating its large jelly body before the gun fell from his hand.
His head slumped into a pool of his own blood slowly pumping from his neck. Job done, he thought, at least pleased he'd dispensed with the threat before it had killed him. New rule number one - never deal with a rift alert on your own. Then it began to rain, thick drops smacking into his face without even being able to blink them away. Dying slowly on his own in the rain. What a brilliant day.
He must have been out there hours by the time he opened his eyes, gasping in a huge lungful of breath and coughing as most of it was murky rainwater trickling down his throat. He rolled onto his side, coughing it back up and glad to be able to feel his arms and legs again. His punctured neck had fully healed over. Hooray for immortality. At least the rain had washed all evidence of the blood from his clothes. He dragged himself to his feet and back to the SUV, looking forward to a hot shower and some clean clothes.
‘You look like you've had a rough day,’ Jack remarked seeing his sodden husband wander in. ‘It's raining cats and dogs out there. Just what you needed after having a meeting with the First Minister from hell.’
Ianto nodded. ‘You have no idea.’
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 195 - Bad day at
fandomweeklySummary: Being in charge of Torchwood is harder than it looks.
Rule number eight - never tackle a rift alert on your own, Ianto thought, reminding himself of the rules that he himself had devised and then failed to share with anyone. Apart from rule number one which Jack had first invented - never mess with the rift - the rest only existed for Torchwood's newest leader. One thing he intended on doing was making them more widely known, and then he was going to start fixing his internal numbering system to re-prioritise them in order of importance rather than the order in which he'd come up with them.
The rift alert had been picked up whilst he was out in the SUV, returning to the hub from an unpleasant but not entirely unproductive meeting with the First Minister. He had the benefit of receiving rift alerts a few minutes before they reached the hub's normal systems. It was the benefit of being in charge that he had a heads up on things before they hit the radar of his team. He took the alert off their systems before it even reached the team. He was only a few miles from where it had originated. By the time he could coordinate a team to get out here, whatever it was could have crawled away, or if it was inanimate, someone who shouldn't, might lay their hands on it and get hurt.
Out in the field again, Ianto thought with a small grin as he pulled the SUV into a complete u-turn across four lanes of traffic. Now that he was in charge it was all paperwork and phone calls, not that he didn't mind doing all of that - much more than Jack ever had in any case. But for every meeting, email and phone call, it meant far less time out and about, getting his hands dirty and being at the coalface of the action. He could appreciate why Jack hated leadership administration. Being in the thick of the action was way more fun.
He followed the GPS heads-up display out towards the wetlands. The tiny dot that was being registered now by the residual rift radiation marked it as living, or at least mobile. One time he'd mistaken the signs for a living creature only to have Jack come back carting a mini rover bot that was continuing to run around until its battery depleted. He fingered his wedding band. This time his husband wouldn't be able to mock him for that same error.
He pulled over the car at the edge of the wetlands, knowing better than to drive any further out and risk bogging the vehicle. It was heavier than it looked and the marshy ground was unpredictable at best. He popped open the glovebox and pulled out his gun, checking it was loaded and ready to go before getting out of the car.
He scanned the grey horizon for any signs of movement. It didn't take long until he spotted something that wasn't a large waterbird or a seagull. ‘What is that?’ he muttered to himself, spying the large bulbous body slowly dragging itself along the ground using some sort of long proboscis. He slowly approached, keeping a careful distance between himself and the thing that looked like something out of the little shop of horrors. Now up closer he could see that its body was about the size of a large pilates ball, and the long thing on top had a sentience all its own, along with a very nasty looking hooked barb.
‘Okay, you beastie. You just stay there and I'll come back with a nice big tranquilliser gun and my nets. Ianto Jones, head of Torchwood Global and intergalactic game hunter.’
He stepped slowly backwards, retreating when something hard and sharp came whipping out of nowhere and stabbed him in the neck once, then twice more. He cried out as he reached up, feeling thick warm blood and his legs went out from under him. He landed on his back, head lolling to one side as he felt all the sensation ebbing from his body. As he looked across he saw a second large barbed proboscis writhing above the waterline. Damn. There'd been two of them; one luring him out there whilst the other lay in wait under the water.
He felt his hand going tingly and realised he'd been paralysed by whatever toxins had stabbed him. Before he lost all his dexterity, he managed to get off a few gun shots. Two hit the snaking barb almost at its base and it flopped into the water and disappeared. Two more hit the land dwelling creature, obliterating its large jelly body before the gun fell from his hand.
His head slumped into a pool of his own blood slowly pumping from his neck. Job done, he thought, at least pleased he'd dispensed with the threat before it had killed him. New rule number one - never deal with a rift alert on your own. Then it began to rain, thick drops smacking into his face without even being able to blink them away. Dying slowly on his own in the rain. What a brilliant day.
He must have been out there hours by the time he opened his eyes, gasping in a huge lungful of breath and coughing as most of it was murky rainwater trickling down his throat. He rolled onto his side, coughing it back up and glad to be able to feel his arms and legs again. His punctured neck had fully healed over. Hooray for immortality. At least the rain had washed all evidence of the blood from his clothes. He dragged himself to his feet and back to the SUV, looking forward to a hot shower and some clean clothes.
‘You look like you've had a rough day,’ Jack remarked seeing his sodden husband wander in. ‘It's raining cats and dogs out there. Just what you needed after having a meeting with the First Minister from hell.’
Ianto nodded. ‘You have no idea.’
