Title: Served Cold
Fandom:
Torchwood
Characters/Pairings:
Jack/Ianto, Grey
Ratings/Warnings:
R – rape, abuse, torture.
Spoilers:
All series.
Summary:
When the Hub explodes, and the cryogenic chambers are flung open, one of its inhabitants manages to flee the wreckage. Seeking revenge, he decides that the best way to hurt Captain Jack Harkness is through a certain Welshman. There's one problem, however – Ianto Jones is dead…

Genre:
Hurt/Comfort, Children of Earth Fix-It.

A/N: This is a trial chapter for a fiction I am planning to write once I have finished Kryptonite. I'd love to hear your responses to it before I start to plan it in more depth.


Served Cold

"La vengeance se mange très-bien froide"

Mathilde by Marie Joseph Eugène Sue

Ianto didn't remember breathing hurting so much.

As he forced that first lungful of air into his body, a searing pain racked through his insides, forcing him to arch upwards. It was like a thousand knives being run over the tender flesh of his windpipe, tearing at his body with relentless force. He opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Instead, he just lay there, gasping.

There was an incessant throbbing at the side of his chest as his heartbeat was forced back into a rhythm, an agonising snapping and crushing as his hardened muscles were pulled apart and loosened. He writhed with the pain, fists clutching blindly at the solid form holding him as his death-stricken body was knitted back together, forced back into life against its will.

Living hurt more than dying.

Hands clutched tightly around him as his body continued its spasm, every cell screaming as it was wrenched back from the darkness. Ianto couldn't make out the face – his eyes hurt too much to be able to focus. What he did know, however, was that the hold was tight, obviously putting a barrier between him and any surfaces that could do him damage.

Eventually, the pain began to subside. Ianto blinked once, twice, trying desperately to readjust his eyes to the blinding light around him as the jerking of his body began to still. His muscles were still trembling, making it difficult for him to bring anything around him into focus; all he could register was that tight grip, that hold that was not letting go.

A fuzzy outline began to emerge as he gained control over his rebellious body, and he struggled to sharpen the picture.

A strong jaw, gray-blue eyes, those full lips that were oh-so-familiar…

"Jack?"

The words were barely audible, his voice-box shrieking in rebellion as the croaking sound was forced from his throat. Even so, the figure obviously heard them. The shoulders began to shake, the arms tightening around him as a deep, throaty laugh burst from those now-not-so-familiar lips.

No, not Jack…but…

Ianto tried frantically to scramble away, but his loosened muscles failed him. He found himself sinking helplessly closer to the shadow holding him, each touch sending a wave of nausea shooting through his already damaged body. Arms snaked further around him, smoothing teasingly through his hair and sliding beneath the fabric of his ruffled waistcoat. Finding a single ounce of strength, Ianto reached up and pushed that hand away, groaning inwardly as it returned to rest on his stomach after the last of his energy had failed him.

"If I was Jack you wouldn't mind this…" the figure snorted, running his fingers in small circles along Ianto's abdomen. The Welshman felt fiery hatred, as much as he could muster, shooting through his synapses, jolting him to life. He pushed away again, ashamed at his own weakness as the cold shadow laughed at him.

"You…not…Jack…" he managed, his heart rate forcing oxygen to his muddled brain. For a brief, embarrassing second, all he wanted was his sister, his sister holding him and cradling him and smoothing his hair…but she wasn't here. She thought he was…

Oh fuck, Rhi…

"How?" he forced the words from his throat, spitting them towards that cruel face like venom – he saw some of his saliva settle on the jawbone of his assailant, and he felt a childish tinge of smugness. "Why…"

"Nanogenes…give it a template, and it will rebuild," those white teeth were spread in a grin as Ianto was hoisted into a sitting position, ragged nails digging into his shoulders. Warm breath breezed over his features, and he closed his eyes, sucking in a breath through his nose.

"You'd have thought Jack would have told you about these, if he really cared," the words were snarled at him, spittle flying into his face with each punctuated syllable; Ianto squeezed his eyes further shut as the hands began to shake his limp frame. "But he doesn't. You should have learnt that – it's all his fault, always. He destroys people."

"You…insane…"

"And whose fault is that, Ianto Jones?" the Welshman was forced backwards, his shoulders smarting as they collided with the rough stone. "Who did this to me? Who?"

"Not Jack…not his…"

"Who else do I blame?" those blue eyes descended into a grey void, and Ianto found himself shrinking pathetically as he finally conceded that there was no energy left in his body. "Who else do I punish?"

A sudden grin tore his face wide as he leaned over Ianto's prone form. The Welshman shivered – he preferred the anger.

"You'd think you dying would be punishment in itself. But not enough – he's too used to it. He didn't even bat an eyelid when the Hub blew up, never once stopped to think 'what about the guy in the vaults?'. What about me? I want him to suffer, and I want him to hurt. You felt that way too once, remember?"

Ianto shuffled in his position, willing his limbs to start working properly as his captor continued to rant, eyes gleaming gleefully with insanity.

"I bet you didn't know, did you, that he nearly destroyed the world with the same Nanogenes I just used to bring you back. Pulled off a con that nearly destroyed everything. It was only stopped by the Doctor; I know, I was there. I followed him through the ages, just waiting. You don't know anything about him, you don't know what he does, yet you're so blind that you died for him."

A sharp laugh pierced the air, and Ianto felt his whole body tense, the anger in him pushing the energy through his screaming muscles. He rose up from his position, catching his knuckles on the jaw of his attacker, sending him sprawling. The floor scraped through the fabric of his trousers as he hauled himself to his feet, setting off at a sprint that sent fire shooting through his body. He grimaced, biting back the pain as a roar of anger echoed behind him. He kept running.

He had to get away. He had to find Jack. He had to tell him that it wasn't his fault.

Suddenly, he came to a wall. Only, it wasn't a wall. It was a window, a window spread wide across the stone. And, as he watched the planets float by outside that thick glass, he knew that he couldn't get away.

Succumbing to the pain, he sank bonelessly against the cold, see-through material, grimacing as footsteps neared him. A hand gripped the back of his shirt, forcing him forward so that his teeth rattled in his skull and his forehead split against the crystal glass. He felt cold steel run along the length of his arm, a thick liquid following its path – he knew it was blood, knew it was his blood, but he also knew there was nothing he could do.

The throbbing in his body grew to a fever-pitch, and he felt a faint, pleasant buzzing run through his head. He knew it would be easier to let unconsciousness take over, to let himself sink into the faint his body was screaming at him to succumb to. But he was stubborn. He didn't want to be helpless anymore – he bit hard onto his lip, the sharp pain jolting his body awake.

Rough lips brushed his ear, teeth catching at the lobe and tearing.

"He thought losing you was hard, but it's not really because that's just the end," a course tongue followed the teeth along the cartilage of his ear, and Ianto shivered ever so slightly, the limpness of his body sending a spark of sheer panic through his veins.

"Imagine what it would be like, knowing you were out here, lost in the stars, knowing that I had you, knowing what I was doing, and not being able to do anything about it. Imagine how much that would hurt. Bringing you back was the best revenge – I can hurt him more with you alive than I ever could with you dead."

Ianto felt himself spun around, fingers dipping into the blood running down his arm, smearing the dense liquid onto his face and neck.

"Now then…" the Welshman felt his mind grow fuzzy as the figure moved closer, the strap on his arm raised high above and aimed towards them. "Let's send my brother a postcard…"


As I said, this is a trial chapter. This idea has been buzzing around my head for about six months, and last night I was bitten by a plot bunny that would NOT let go, so I had to write it. It's continuation depends on people's response - "Kryptonite" is my priority right now, but if the response is good then I will begin work on this.

Thank you!