Fic: Vizzini's Rule (24/105)
Jul. 18th, 2008 08:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
buttononthetopTitle: Vizzini's Rule, Chapter 24
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence
Spoilers: Season One thru Countrycide (1x6)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around! All ©’s to Chris Chibnall for dialogue borrowed from Countrycide. No infringement, only worship, intended.
Summary: In which things go from bad to worse...
Notes: Really, really hoping ya'll aren't disappointed by this. I didn't want to just rehash what happened in Countrycide, plus I'm telling my story from Ianto's POV, so if he wasn't in a scene it's not in my story...so yeah, nervous. Anyhoo, I hope you likes!! :o) *crosses fingers*
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter Twenty-Four
The next few hours were something out of a nightmare. Ianto awoke next to an unconscious Toshiko in a dark, dank cellar. They had both been stripped of their weapons and the things they found in that room filled Ianto with terror that went bone-deep.
He was glad they were allowed to stay together. Having Tosh next to him gave him something to focus on, something to keep him from succumbing to the debilitating panic he could feel pushing against the back of his throat. When it became clear just what was in store for them at the hands of the monsters masquerading as humans, Ianto suddenly became very calm.
I’m dead, he thought.
His mind was racing. He thought that if he could help Tosh escape, then maybe Jack would remember him as more than a traitorous coward. He whispered to Tosh, “Get ready to run.”
When the bastard with the bat turned his attention to Ianto, he gave him his best Tourist Office smile and a head butt that would have made his rugby coach proud. He tried to follow Tosh out, but the woman got in his way. She grabbed him by his hair and yanked him back into the room. The man, who’s nose looked satisfyingly broken, retaliated with a punch to Ianto’s face which knocked him off his feet and several well-placed kicks once he was down. He was still trying to get his breath back when everything went black for the second time.
. . .
Ianto woke up gagging on the stench of the slaughterhouse. He thrashed around on the floor, trying to scrape the bag off his head. He could hear someone laughing nearby.
“Who’s a little wiggle-worm, then?” asked a sickeningly sweet voice. It was the woman with the shotgun.
Ianto froze.
“Oh, come on, wiggle-worm, wiggle some more,” she commanded. He felt the barrel of the shotgun poke his side, but he refused to move. He bit down on the filthy rag in his mouth when she poked him harder. “Wiggle! Wiggle!” He felt her hand against the bag over his head. She was searching for something and crowed when she found it. Pinching Ianto’s nose hard with one hand, she poked him with the shotgun again.
He couldn’t breathe. The gag didn’t allow enough air to pass through his mouth and she was cutting off the only other source. He tried to kick her, but she evaded his feet easily. He yelled through the gag, bucking against the floor as his need for oxygen became critical.
She laughed.
“Good little worm,” she said as she let go of his nose.
He sucked in much needed air, only to have it forced out again as she rammed the shotgun into his ribs. As he gasped through the pain, he heard her say, “Night, night, little worm.”
He actually heard the crack of the shotgun against his skull, then there was silence and blessed blackness again.
. . .
Ianto felt someone picking him up. The bag must have been taken off his head, because he could see again when he opened his eyes. Oh God, Tosh! He barely had time to register his despair that she had been recaptured before the monster behind him put a cleaver to his throat.
Ianto screamed behind the gag. His earlier resignation to his fate had left him completely. He was struggling to get away from the cleaver when the house began to shake. Growling like an animal, the man shoved Ianto aside as he went to investigate. He would have fallen if Gwen hadn’t been there to catch him. She held him close, whispering “It’ll be ok, sweetheart” in his ear. Ianto was grateful for the lie.
Then the house exploded. Ianto glimpsed Jack, riding in on a bloody tractor of all things and opening fire on the whole room. He dropped back to the ground and curled himself into a ball, staying there, even after the firing had stopped and the only sounds in the room were muffled sobbing. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched and tried to make himself even smaller.
“Ianto, it’s me, Tosh,” he heard a soft voice say, but he refused to move or open his eyes.
“Jack! Over here!” He heard that same voice call out to someone.
“Gwen, Owen, cuff this bastard and take him over to the pub,” he heard a strong voice say. The voice got closer, “Tosh, what is it?”
“It’s Ianto. I can’t get him to move.”
“Here, this might help.” Ianto felt warm hands on his arms. There was a metallic click and he felt the cuffs on his wrists loosen. He immediately brought his arms up over his head, curling even tighter into himself. He felt those warm hands again, this time on his shoulders pulling him up even as he resisted. He half fell onto a broad chest and was held there as two strong arms wrapped around him. He buried his face in soft grey wool and felt safe. “You coming back to us?” Jack asked.
Jack. Jack. Ianto let out a shuddering sigh and nodded. He felt Jack’s hands move to cradle his head, forcing Ianto to meet his eyes. Jack stared at him for a moment. “Maybe a concussion. Tosh, will you look after him? I’m going to the pub while Gwen talks to that animal. I’ll call the authorities from there and send Owen back to patch up this slime,” he said with a sneer in his voice. “Although it won’t break my heart if any of them dies.”
“Sure thing,” Tosh said. She took Ianto’s arm after Jack had pulled him to his feet. He gave her a weak smile.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?” she asked. “Almost getting yourself killed to save me?”
“Uhh…”
“It was very brave,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She reached up to give him a gentle kiss. “Don’t ever do that again!” she scolded a second later.
He nodded and then winced.
“Here, come sit down,” Tosh said.
“No!” When she looked surprised, he explained. “No, really Tosh, I just want to get the hell out of here.”
Glancing around, Tosh suddenly looked sick to her stomach. “Good idea,” she said and led him out the gaping hole in the wall.
TBC in Chapter Twenty-Five
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Violence
Spoilers: Season One thru Countrycide (1x6)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all its wonderfulness belong to Russell T. Davies and the Mighty Beeb. Just goofin' around! All ©’s to Chris Chibnall for dialogue borrowed from Countrycide. No infringement, only worship, intended.
Summary: In which things go from bad to worse...
Notes: Really, really hoping ya'll aren't disappointed by this. I didn't want to just rehash what happened in Countrycide, plus I'm telling my story from Ianto's POV, so if he wasn't in a scene it's not in my story...so yeah, nervous. Anyhoo, I hope you likes!! :o) *crosses fingers*
Previous Chapters
Vizzini's Rule: Chapter Twenty-Four
The next few hours were something out of a nightmare. Ianto awoke next to an unconscious Toshiko in a dark, dank cellar. They had both been stripped of their weapons and the things they found in that room filled Ianto with terror that went bone-deep.
He was glad they were allowed to stay together. Having Tosh next to him gave him something to focus on, something to keep him from succumbing to the debilitating panic he could feel pushing against the back of his throat. When it became clear just what was in store for them at the hands of the monsters masquerading as humans, Ianto suddenly became very calm.
I’m dead, he thought.
His mind was racing. He thought that if he could help Tosh escape, then maybe Jack would remember him as more than a traitorous coward. He whispered to Tosh, “Get ready to run.”
When the bastard with the bat turned his attention to Ianto, he gave him his best Tourist Office smile and a head butt that would have made his rugby coach proud. He tried to follow Tosh out, but the woman got in his way. She grabbed him by his hair and yanked him back into the room. The man, who’s nose looked satisfyingly broken, retaliated with a punch to Ianto’s face which knocked him off his feet and several well-placed kicks once he was down. He was still trying to get his breath back when everything went black for the second time.
. . .
Ianto woke up gagging on the stench of the slaughterhouse. He thrashed around on the floor, trying to scrape the bag off his head. He could hear someone laughing nearby.
“Who’s a little wiggle-worm, then?” asked a sickeningly sweet voice. It was the woman with the shotgun.
Ianto froze.
“Oh, come on, wiggle-worm, wiggle some more,” she commanded. He felt the barrel of the shotgun poke his side, but he refused to move. He bit down on the filthy rag in his mouth when she poked him harder. “Wiggle! Wiggle!” He felt her hand against the bag over his head. She was searching for something and crowed when she found it. Pinching Ianto’s nose hard with one hand, she poked him with the shotgun again.
He couldn’t breathe. The gag didn’t allow enough air to pass through his mouth and she was cutting off the only other source. He tried to kick her, but she evaded his feet easily. He yelled through the gag, bucking against the floor as his need for oxygen became critical.
She laughed.
“Good little worm,” she said as she let go of his nose.
He sucked in much needed air, only to have it forced out again as she rammed the shotgun into his ribs. As he gasped through the pain, he heard her say, “Night, night, little worm.”
He actually heard the crack of the shotgun against his skull, then there was silence and blessed blackness again.
. . .
Ianto felt someone picking him up. The bag must have been taken off his head, because he could see again when he opened his eyes. Oh God, Tosh! He barely had time to register his despair that she had been recaptured before the monster behind him put a cleaver to his throat.
Ianto screamed behind the gag. His earlier resignation to his fate had left him completely. He was struggling to get away from the cleaver when the house began to shake. Growling like an animal, the man shoved Ianto aside as he went to investigate. He would have fallen if Gwen hadn’t been there to catch him. She held him close, whispering “It’ll be ok, sweetheart” in his ear. Ianto was grateful for the lie.
Then the house exploded. Ianto glimpsed Jack, riding in on a bloody tractor of all things and opening fire on the whole room. He dropped back to the ground and curled himself into a ball, staying there, even after the firing had stopped and the only sounds in the room were muffled sobbing. When he felt a hand on his shoulder, he flinched and tried to make himself even smaller.
“Ianto, it’s me, Tosh,” he heard a soft voice say, but he refused to move or open his eyes.
“Jack! Over here!” He heard that same voice call out to someone.
“Gwen, Owen, cuff this bastard and take him over to the pub,” he heard a strong voice say. The voice got closer, “Tosh, what is it?”
“It’s Ianto. I can’t get him to move.”
“Here, this might help.” Ianto felt warm hands on his arms. There was a metallic click and he felt the cuffs on his wrists loosen. He immediately brought his arms up over his head, curling even tighter into himself. He felt those warm hands again, this time on his shoulders pulling him up even as he resisted. He half fell onto a broad chest and was held there as two strong arms wrapped around him. He buried his face in soft grey wool and felt safe. “You coming back to us?” Jack asked.
Jack. Jack. Ianto let out a shuddering sigh and nodded. He felt Jack’s hands move to cradle his head, forcing Ianto to meet his eyes. Jack stared at him for a moment. “Maybe a concussion. Tosh, will you look after him? I’m going to the pub while Gwen talks to that animal. I’ll call the authorities from there and send Owen back to patch up this slime,” he said with a sneer in his voice. “Although it won’t break my heart if any of them dies.”
“Sure thing,” Tosh said. She took Ianto’s arm after Jack had pulled him to his feet. He gave her a weak smile.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“For what?” she asked. “Almost getting yourself killed to save me?”
“Uhh…”
“It was very brave,” she said, tears filling her eyes. She reached up to give him a gentle kiss. “Don’t ever do that again!” she scolded a second later.
He nodded and then winced.
“Here, come sit down,” Tosh said.
“No!” When she looked surprised, he explained. “No, really Tosh, I just want to get the hell out of here.”
Glancing around, Tosh suddenly looked sick to her stomach. “Good idea,” she said and led him out the gaping hole in the wall.
TBC in Chapter Twenty-Five
