Hello! I recently watched Torchwood, Seasons 1, 2, and Children of Earth. Ianto was by far my favorite character, and it made me incredibly sad that they killed him, and worse, won't bring him back. I don't write fanfiction very often, so please review if you like my work. I'm fueled by reviews, good or bad, so don't hesitate to give me your thoughts. This story picks up after Children of Earth, and the plot fairies are spinning me ideas. Here's the introduction, and I'll post more if I get reviews (good or bad). I do have a plot lined up, but I'd hate to share it if no one is interested. Thanks so much!
I don't own Torchwood or its wonderful characters.
Darkness. Dank, musty air. Cold, incredible and bone shattering. It was eating away at him. Every breath he pulled in burned his throat as if he hadn't breathed in years. The cold, sharp air rushed across his wind pipe and he gasped for more. The pain washed across his body as his frozen muscles struggled to carry out his wish to move. Air, he needed more. He gasped in sharp, ragged breaths as his body convulsed. He felt his elbows and knees scrape across something. He reached out with his fingers and felt wood, course and grainy, surrounding him. Panic took over as the air ran out and he dug into it with his fingers, clawing away at it, trying to reach more air. He didn't stop, it felt like hours. Clawing, digging, scraping, gasping. His fingers touched something soft and wet, and moisture began to pool around him. "Air," he whispered and kept going. He dug through, not sure what was rain and what was blood. The closer he got, the more he could feel, hear, smell. Dirt, cold and wet on his fingers, surrounding him as he climbed. Rain, pounding onto the soil on top of him, beside him, all around. Grass, more and more as he pulled and yanked and clawed his way up. He pushed his hands, his arms, his shoulders up. He felt air and breathed in. Cold, more cold. The wetness was covering him, and he just wanted out. "A little more," he gasped, and pulled himself the rest of the way out. He rolled over and looked up at the rain falling around him, gasping in the cool, fresh air. His eyes drifted closed.
How long had it been? He jerked awake with a start and was relieved to still find air. He could see now, the sun was rising and it brought warmth with it. He forced his body to follow orders and twisted around to look behind him, almost colliding with a slab of stone. He grabbed on and brought himself to a kneeling position facing it. His eyes slowly cleared and he brushed away the mud covering the words. "Ianto Jones. Beloved Brother and Colleague."