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fandomweekly2025-08-31 11:47 am
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2025-08-31 11:47 am
Entry tags:
[#271] LIFELINE (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #271 - In the nick of time
Title: Lifeline
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: M
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Ianto is faced with the stark realisation that what he wanted most of all might cost him his life.
Up until now, it had never really crossed Ianto’s mind that his job might kill him. At Torchwood Three, he’d always just been the admin guy, pottering about their centre of operations, filing paperwork, answering phones, ordering meals and just generally keeping the place, and everyone who worked there, on track and organised. There were lots of times when he looked at the others, always going out and being right in the middle of all the excitement, wishing he were there with them. They had inside jokes that only they understood, leaving him out in the cold, even though they tried to assure him he was no less a part of the team. He was still an outsider, the ex-Torchwood One survivor, who’d nearly brought them all down by smuggling his converted cyberman girlfriend into their base.
That had been months ago now, and he was slowly moving on from his grief and loss. The team also were slowly moving on, forgiving him for his folly, but he still felt largely invisible in their midst. Jack was the worst offender, happy to squeeze Ianto for news, but when there was no one else around for Jack to entertain with his stories or next adventure, Ianto became completely overlooked. Jack never asked him to come along when everyone else was busy or had gone home. Jack simply muttered in disappointed tones and left. Ianto had no choice but to force the issue, which had finally paid dividends, invited to join the team on a trip out to the Brecon Beacons to investigate people going missing in the area. He’d even been charged with organising the camping gear for the trip; not just a few hours, but potentially days out in the field with the team.
How he wished now that he’d never asked for this. Here he was, having been so excited about being asked to come out with the team on an investigation, trying desperately hard not to show his excitement. And now he was going to die out here. He was going to become just another one of those missing people, carved up into bits and shoved in a fridge in someone's cellar; bits of body still spattered in blood and wrapped up in plastic bags for some dinner down the track. “What shall we have tonight dear?” one of them would ask. “Do you fancy a foot casserole and perhaps some human liver pate for starters?” “Sounds lovely. That young Welsh lad would be perfect. Very tasty by the looks of him when we butchered him up.”
There were no aliens after all, just a village of bloodthirsty cannibals that had taken to stocking up their larders with a few thousand kilos of human flesh to tide them over until the next covert massacre.
His face stung from where the cannibal had slapped it, rousing him from blissful unconsciousness. His head pounded even harder from the huge welt on his forehead where the rifle butt had slammed into it. That might have felt like a fair compromise if his rebellion had worked, allowing Tosh to escape in the confusion. Now as he tried to clear his vision, he saw her across the room, hands bound behind her just like his. Gwen and Owen were there too, looking worse for wear, all four of them now captives.
For just a moment having them all there was reassuring, but then the cannibal had hauled Ianto to his knees, pulling his head back by his hair. The gag in his mouth muffled his cries, but it didn’t stop him clocking the huge blade that was being held against his throat. The cannibal insisted that bleeding him to death would make the meat better. Ianto realised with horror that he was going to die slowly and know it was happening. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Panic set in and he wailed through the gag.
The blade pressed firmly against his adam’s apple and then there was a loud noise. Something crashed through the wall and heavy gunshots rang out in single file. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Ianto fell sideways and someone grabbed him, pulling him close. He kept his eyes shut the whole time, waiting for the gunfire to hit him, sparing him his slow death.
The room fell almost silent afterwards. He was still alive. His face was buried in a sea of green fabric – Gwen’s parka – as she kept her arms wrapped around him, letting go only to remove the gag and the ropes that bound his hands behind him.
‘Took your bloody time,’ Ianto heard Owen mutter in his usual gruff, ungrateful tone.
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ The familiar American twang of Jack’s voice replied with calm nonchalance. ‘Took me a while to extract intel from my friend down in the cellar. Looks like I made it just in time.’
Around the room were hisses and groans from the cannibals, who’d taken the brunt of the gunfire, but still alive. Ianto shivered at the thought of them still being so close.
‘They need to get to a hospital,’ Gwen said.
‘Relax. We have plenty of time,’ Jack replied, his tone flat and unemotional. ‘No one is gonna die.’ He gave the police officer a hard nudge with his boot, eliciting a pained scream from him as Jack's boot pressed into the wound. ‘Not in a hurry anyway.’
‘Pity,’ Owen added.
No one is going to die. Those were the words that tumbled through Ianto's head as he lay there, half curled into Gwen’s body as she rubbed up and down his arm and made soothing hushing sounds. He was making a damp patch in the sleeve of her parka but there was no shame as the tears rolled out in between heaving sobs. He’d been seconds from death. All because he’d stupidly wanted to be a proper part of the team.
‘Everyone okay?’ Jack asked.
‘We’ll be fine,’ Tosh replied shakily.
Will we really? Ianto wondered.
Title: Lifeline
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: M
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Ianto is faced with the stark realisation that what he wanted most of all might cost him his life.
Up until now, it had never really crossed Ianto’s mind that his job might kill him. At Torchwood Three, he’d always just been the admin guy, pottering about their centre of operations, filing paperwork, answering phones, ordering meals and just generally keeping the place, and everyone who worked there, on track and organised. There were lots of times when he looked at the others, always going out and being right in the middle of all the excitement, wishing he were there with them. They had inside jokes that only they understood, leaving him out in the cold, even though they tried to assure him he was no less a part of the team. He was still an outsider, the ex-Torchwood One survivor, who’d nearly brought them all down by smuggling his converted cyberman girlfriend into their base.
That had been months ago now, and he was slowly moving on from his grief and loss. The team also were slowly moving on, forgiving him for his folly, but he still felt largely invisible in their midst. Jack was the worst offender, happy to squeeze Ianto for news, but when there was no one else around for Jack to entertain with his stories or next adventure, Ianto became completely overlooked. Jack never asked him to come along when everyone else was busy or had gone home. Jack simply muttered in disappointed tones and left. Ianto had no choice but to force the issue, which had finally paid dividends, invited to join the team on a trip out to the Brecon Beacons to investigate people going missing in the area. He’d even been charged with organising the camping gear for the trip; not just a few hours, but potentially days out in the field with the team.
How he wished now that he’d never asked for this. Here he was, having been so excited about being asked to come out with the team on an investigation, trying desperately hard not to show his excitement. And now he was going to die out here. He was going to become just another one of those missing people, carved up into bits and shoved in a fridge in someone's cellar; bits of body still spattered in blood and wrapped up in plastic bags for some dinner down the track. “What shall we have tonight dear?” one of them would ask. “Do you fancy a foot casserole and perhaps some human liver pate for starters?” “Sounds lovely. That young Welsh lad would be perfect. Very tasty by the looks of him when we butchered him up.”
There were no aliens after all, just a village of bloodthirsty cannibals that had taken to stocking up their larders with a few thousand kilos of human flesh to tide them over until the next covert massacre.
His face stung from where the cannibal had slapped it, rousing him from blissful unconsciousness. His head pounded even harder from the huge welt on his forehead where the rifle butt had slammed into it. That might have felt like a fair compromise if his rebellion had worked, allowing Tosh to escape in the confusion. Now as he tried to clear his vision, he saw her across the room, hands bound behind her just like his. Gwen and Owen were there too, looking worse for wear, all four of them now captives.
For just a moment having them all there was reassuring, but then the cannibal had hauled Ianto to his knees, pulling his head back by his hair. The gag in his mouth muffled his cries, but it didn’t stop him clocking the huge blade that was being held against his throat. The cannibal insisted that bleeding him to death would make the meat better. Ianto realised with horror that he was going to die slowly and know it was happening. He didn’t want to die. Not like this. Panic set in and he wailed through the gag.
The blade pressed firmly against his adam’s apple and then there was a loud noise. Something crashed through the wall and heavy gunshots rang out in single file. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Ianto fell sideways and someone grabbed him, pulling him close. He kept his eyes shut the whole time, waiting for the gunfire to hit him, sparing him his slow death.
The room fell almost silent afterwards. He was still alive. His face was buried in a sea of green fabric – Gwen’s parka – as she kept her arms wrapped around him, letting go only to remove the gag and the ropes that bound his hands behind him.
‘Took your bloody time,’ Ianto heard Owen mutter in his usual gruff, ungrateful tone.
‘I’m here, aren’t I?’ The familiar American twang of Jack’s voice replied with calm nonchalance. ‘Took me a while to extract intel from my friend down in the cellar. Looks like I made it just in time.’
Around the room were hisses and groans from the cannibals, who’d taken the brunt of the gunfire, but still alive. Ianto shivered at the thought of them still being so close.
‘They need to get to a hospital,’ Gwen said.
‘Relax. We have plenty of time,’ Jack replied, his tone flat and unemotional. ‘No one is gonna die.’ He gave the police officer a hard nudge with his boot, eliciting a pained scream from him as Jack's boot pressed into the wound. ‘Not in a hurry anyway.’
‘Pity,’ Owen added.
No one is going to die. Those were the words that tumbled through Ianto's head as he lay there, half curled into Gwen’s body as she rubbed up and down his arm and made soothing hushing sounds. He was making a damp patch in the sleeve of her parka but there was no shame as the tears rolled out in between heaving sobs. He’d been seconds from death. All because he’d stupidly wanted to be a proper part of the team.
‘Everyone okay?’ Jack asked.
‘We’ll be fine,’ Tosh replied shakily.
Will we really? Ianto wondered.
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