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fandomweekly2024-03-11 09:17 am
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2024-03-11 09:17 am
Entry tags:
[#211] LACK OF OPTIONS (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #211 - Hesitation
Title: Lack of options
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 799 words
Summary: Ianto hates not being prepared for all contingencies but things are dire.
This was probably a bad idea, Ianto thought, wondering not for the first time if the high-vis jacket he was wearing was only making himself more of a target for the people who wanted him dead. Safety first, though, right? He was nothing if not a stickler for protocol, and this was his first time behind the wheel of a tractor. Anything might go wrong.
The machine rumbled underneath him and he hoped that the farmer he’d stolen it from was hard of hearing from years of riding around on it. It certainly wasn’t subtle and the element of surprise was going to be limited to the fact that no one expected someone to try and break into a secure facility by rolling a tractor through the fence. He calculated the shock factor might give him about twenty seconds. Twenty seconds to save the man he loved and try to prevent all out chaos.
He was out of ideas and stuck with this plan. He’d watched the soldiers comb over the blast site that had once been home, searching for Jack’s corpse. He hadn’t spotted them recover anything more than a few bits of flesh, the largest being a forearm with the hand still attached, charred at the end where it had been blown off. It had made Ianto sob out loud at the sight of it, knowing that hand had touched him so many times and held his face as Jack kissed him.
Dutifully, he’d followed the military trucks, carrying his lover’s remains all the way across the border and deep into English countryside before rolling behind the high security gates of Ashton Down. He could only hold onto hope that Jack could survive the blast and come back. Whether his captors believed the same was possible couldn’t be said, though they’d quickly made alternative arrangements once they discovered that yes, even exploded remains could be reconstituted. The relief that Ianto felt at hearing Jack’s screams, confirming he was alive, was short-lived as he watched the huge cement truck begin pouring liquid concrete into the cell from a hatch on the roof. Jack was screaming for being suffocated, destined to be trapped forever in a block of concrete, never able to revive for more than a few seconds, trapped in an eternal hell. That was certainly one way to take a man who couldn't die out of the picture.
‘We don’t have time for games,’ Ianto muttered to himself, feeling a rising hatred. The alien threat had already announced it was coming tomorrow and they needed Jack if they had a hope of dealing with it. Nothing that took over the bodies of children and spoke through them could be friendly. Torchwood was needed, yet the government were out to kill all three of them.
Ianto chewed his lip as he considered his plan again. Ashton Down was a World War One era facility. Just how sturdy were those terracotta bricks after nearly a century? Was the mortar fragile enough to take a tractor ramming into it? Would the scoop at the front be able to get under it and lift the concrete block inner prison cell? How fast and how far could Ianto get before they were on his tail? Would it be long enough to get to the quarry and drop the concrete block from a height where he hoped it might smash, breaking Jack free.
Truthfully, this was a terrible plan. It was scarcely a plan at all, but he was on his own, without so much as a gun or any means of conducting an offensive. He didn’t even know if Gwen was still alive, on the run herself. But he also knew that he couldn’t face the impending alien threat on his own. He needed Jack, if for no other reason than he couldn’t leave him to suffer here at the hands of the people who should have been offering Torchwood their help.
His hands curled away from the steering wheel for a moment, wondering if this wasn’t the quickest way to get himself killed and taken out of the game. He might have waited until nightfall at least when there was far less chance of someone seeing a farm vehicle come smashing through their side gates to storm the facility. Maybe he should wait. Maybe, but there was simply no time. No time for less risky options to be considered. No time to wait and hope for backup. No time for someone inside those walls to realise they were making a terrible mistake and to free Jack so that he could help. All anyone had right now was Ianto Jones and that wasn’t enough.
He sucked in a breath and gripped the wheel again, pushing the accelerator down hard. ‘Let’s do this.’
Title: Lack of options
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: PG.
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 799 words
Summary: Ianto hates not being prepared for all contingencies but things are dire.
This was probably a bad idea, Ianto thought, wondering not for the first time if the high-vis jacket he was wearing was only making himself more of a target for the people who wanted him dead. Safety first, though, right? He was nothing if not a stickler for protocol, and this was his first time behind the wheel of a tractor. Anything might go wrong.
The machine rumbled underneath him and he hoped that the farmer he’d stolen it from was hard of hearing from years of riding around on it. It certainly wasn’t subtle and the element of surprise was going to be limited to the fact that no one expected someone to try and break into a secure facility by rolling a tractor through the fence. He calculated the shock factor might give him about twenty seconds. Twenty seconds to save the man he loved and try to prevent all out chaos.
He was out of ideas and stuck with this plan. He’d watched the soldiers comb over the blast site that had once been home, searching for Jack’s corpse. He hadn’t spotted them recover anything more than a few bits of flesh, the largest being a forearm with the hand still attached, charred at the end where it had been blown off. It had made Ianto sob out loud at the sight of it, knowing that hand had touched him so many times and held his face as Jack kissed him.
Dutifully, he’d followed the military trucks, carrying his lover’s remains all the way across the border and deep into English countryside before rolling behind the high security gates of Ashton Down. He could only hold onto hope that Jack could survive the blast and come back. Whether his captors believed the same was possible couldn’t be said, though they’d quickly made alternative arrangements once they discovered that yes, even exploded remains could be reconstituted. The relief that Ianto felt at hearing Jack’s screams, confirming he was alive, was short-lived as he watched the huge cement truck begin pouring liquid concrete into the cell from a hatch on the roof. Jack was screaming for being suffocated, destined to be trapped forever in a block of concrete, never able to revive for more than a few seconds, trapped in an eternal hell. That was certainly one way to take a man who couldn't die out of the picture.
‘We don’t have time for games,’ Ianto muttered to himself, feeling a rising hatred. The alien threat had already announced it was coming tomorrow and they needed Jack if they had a hope of dealing with it. Nothing that took over the bodies of children and spoke through them could be friendly. Torchwood was needed, yet the government were out to kill all three of them.
Ianto chewed his lip as he considered his plan again. Ashton Down was a World War One era facility. Just how sturdy were those terracotta bricks after nearly a century? Was the mortar fragile enough to take a tractor ramming into it? Would the scoop at the front be able to get under it and lift the concrete block inner prison cell? How fast and how far could Ianto get before they were on his tail? Would it be long enough to get to the quarry and drop the concrete block from a height where he hoped it might smash, breaking Jack free.
Truthfully, this was a terrible plan. It was scarcely a plan at all, but he was on his own, without so much as a gun or any means of conducting an offensive. He didn’t even know if Gwen was still alive, on the run herself. But he also knew that he couldn’t face the impending alien threat on his own. He needed Jack, if for no other reason than he couldn’t leave him to suffer here at the hands of the people who should have been offering Torchwood their help.
His hands curled away from the steering wheel for a moment, wondering if this wasn’t the quickest way to get himself killed and taken out of the game. He might have waited until nightfall at least when there was far less chance of someone seeing a farm vehicle come smashing through their side gates to storm the facility. Maybe he should wait. Maybe, but there was simply no time. No time for less risky options to be considered. No time to wait and hope for backup. No time for someone inside those walls to realise they were making a terrible mistake and to free Jack so that he could help. All anyone had right now was Ianto Jones and that wasn’t enough.
He sucked in a breath and gripped the wheel again, pushing the accelerator down hard. ‘Let’s do this.’
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