Torchwood: Fanfic: Bleeding out

[m_findlow]

Title: Bleeding out
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,327 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for mirrored_illusions's prompt "Any, any, bleeding out and knowing the rescue will be too late" at fic_promptly
Summary: Jack's on his own this time

The fight with the alien had been tougher than he anticipated. In fact, the whole morning's events had been more than any of them had bargained for, now fighting for their lives.

Jack tussled with the large creature which was brown and scaly, and at least a foot taller than him, with twice as many legs. It definitely wasn't a fair fight by any means, but he'd lost his webley several minutes ago when a second one had snuck up from behind him and tried to tackle him whilst he was shooting the first. There must have been at least a dozen of them in the three storey warehouse, and his team were now dispersed all over the place dealing with them.

He didn't know what they were, only that they were hostile, having fired the first shots in their deadly first encounter, but luckily their shots didn't find any of the team. They'd managed to take out the three on the lowest level, with a fourth escaping send warning to its brethren. They split up in pairs to sweep the next level, finding several more creatures heavily armed and dangerous. There was no sign of how they'd gotten here or how long they'd taken up residence but from the firefight that was going on, the seemed to be desperate to protect whatever was up on the top floor.

Jack managed to sneak past them whist the rest of his team were laying down cover fire. He wasn't wrong. Up on a landing on the top floor was a large device mounted to the floor, easily the size of a large cargo crate, with a clear glass dome at the top, blinking lights, humming and pulsating. He didn't know what it was, but it seemed to be building itself up to something, and he gathered it wouldn't be good.

The first shot missed his forehead by mere inches and he immediately ducked behind a large partition before turning to try and clock his assailant. Two more shots hit the partition from different angles so he knew there was more than one of them. It took a lot of lucky shots, but he eventually took down two of them and was after the third when he'd been jumped.

He struggled against the weight of the creature which was forcing him further and further backwards. Once it had him up against the wall, it wouldn't take much to finish him. He managed to twist out of its grip somehow and back away a few paces, back in the direction of his missing webley. He dived for it clutching it in his hand just as the creature came slamming into him with surprising speed. He felt his fingers wrap around then trigger and heard two shots tear into the creature's chest. It shoved him backward in one final desperate act, sending them both crashing through the large window he hadn't known was right behind him.

How he was still conscious way anybody's guess as he lay there on the ground, having fallen at least thirty feet to the ground below. A few yards away, the creature was still and unmoving. It hadn't survived and yet he had. Survival was something of a misnomer, he realised. Everything from the waist up felt like it was on fire, and everything below the waist was blissfully free of feeling of any kind. Fallen he had, and though alive and conscious for the moment, the rest of his body was damaged beyond repair. That he couldn't feel his legs was not surprising. He'd fallen hard on his back, no doubt snapping his spinal chord, paralysing him below the waist. More concerning however was the pain in his torso. Protruding for from his stomach was an enormous shard of glass. It was bright red, like the stained glass in a church window. He must have fallen on top of it, sending it slicing through him from back to front and all the way out. It would be the fatal wound, and already he could feel the blood oozing out underneath him, creating a warm pool. Even if Owen got to him, there was probably not going to be time to get him to a hospital, or even the hub, where he might be allowed to fade off into the sunset, high on painkillers. His part in today's skirmish was over.

He stared at the sky overhead, noticing it was grey and overcast, and listening to the battle still going on inside. He could hear the gunfire even now. Whilst he could still hear the guns he knew there was hope, not for him, but for his team. It meant they were still alive and fighting. Once the sound of guns ended, he wouldn't be able to tell either way if his team had successfully neutralised the aliens, or whether the aliens had gunned them down. He prayed it would be the former, and that it would be them coming to find his dead body, and not he theirs.

The bleeding was slow and throbbing, and he was painfully conscious the whole time. As much as he didn't want to die there alone, he realised he didn't want the team to see him like this. They'd seen him die plenty of times, but some deaths were more horrific than others, and he hated watching them suffer. He knew that they didn't like to watch him suffer either, but each death took its toll, and no more so than on Ianto. He wished Ianto was here now holding him, and giving him gentle reassurances that everything would be okay. Knowing he'd have to face the darkness was easier when he knew it would only be for a little while, and that when he came back, Ianto would be there waiting for him. He could hang on until they got here perhaps, but then he saw the huge, bloody shard again. He didn't want them to see that. It was holding back a lot of the bleeding for now, and removing it would speed up the process markedly.

He placed his palms on either side of it, willing himself to pull it out, but it slipped in between his hands, slick with his own blood. He gripped it instead by the ends, feeling their jagged, razor-sharp edges cut deeply into his palms. He didn't hesitate, ripping it quickly out and screaming in pain, almost blacking out as it tore through tender flesh and organs, adding further injury. He dropped it by his side, not having enough strength left to hurl it further away out of sight. Not long now, he thought, feeling the blood quickly pumping out, blurring the edges of his vision.

The sky overhead began to open and the first few drops of rain pattered on his face as he noticed the sounds inside the warehouse cease.

Jack! He heard them calling for him. He didn't have the heart, nor the strength to call out. They didn't know he was outside, slowly dying. They'd reached the top floor, see the aliens had been eliminated, and begin trying to find a way to deactivate the device. That was more important than him. One of them would no doubt notice the broken window and look out to see the two of them lying on the ground, bloodied and broken. They wouldn't stop though. As much as they'd want to rush to his aid, they knew they had a job to do. He was just too far way for them to do both at the same time.

More raindrops fell on his face. They felt nice, almost like a lover's caress. He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore, and still no one came. It was too late to save him now and too late for goodbyes and reassurances. The darkness was coming for him. He just prayed his team would be there when the darkness faded back into light.