donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2008-02-10 08:54 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2008-02-10 08:54 pm
Duty
Title: Duty
Pairing/Rating/Warning: Jack/Ianto implied, no spoilers, rated PG
Word Count: 377
Summary: There are many ways to fulfill one's duty
Author's note: A story inspired by this icon byestelofimladris
Pairing/Rating/Warning: Jack/Ianto implied, no spoilers, rated PG
Word Count: 377
Summary: There are many ways to fulfill one's duty
Author's note: A story inspired by this icon by
estelofimladrisThe little girl was safe. That was all the team seemed to think about. Jack had saved her, pulling her right out of the Weevil’s grasp. Now she could be returned to her parents; a happy reunion would be had by all involved. Hugs and cupcakes all around. Go team Torchwood. There was more to it than that, of course, there always was, even if Ianto was the only one to see it.
The dead Weevils needed to be taken care of. Seven of them this time. It looked like another trip to the incinerator was called for, and sooner rather than later considering the number of scavengers that would be drawn by the smell of their carcasses.
And then there was Jack.
Jack was dead, again. At first Ianto had debated moving him, but at this time of day the streets above them would be packed with people and if he were to climb out lugging a dead body someone was bound to notice. In his experience, that sort of a thing would hard to explain, especially if Jack came back to life in mid-transport. No, despite the sewers being cold and rank they were better off remaining here until Jack came back to life.
So here they stayed.
The Weevils had managed to do quite a bit of damage to Jack’s wardrobe before he’d killed them and they’d killed him. There would be no mending the shirt, not with those large slashes to it, but with luck the massive amounts of muck and blood on the pants might come out. Ianto wished he had a fresh set of clothes to change Jack into, but there was nothing he could do about that now.
Nothing to do but sit and wait.
Ianto leaned back against the cool brick wall, his hand wrapped lightly around Jack’s. Better safe than sorry when it came to the things that creeped and crawled and went bump in the night, or in the sewer. Jack always said it wasn’t necessary, that once he was dead it didn’t matter, but Ianto couldn’t accept that. It was his duty to sit vigil and protect his Captain when the man couldn’t protect himself. It wasn’t much, but it was the least he could do.
The dead Weevils needed to be taken care of. Seven of them this time. It looked like another trip to the incinerator was called for, and sooner rather than later considering the number of scavengers that would be drawn by the smell of their carcasses.
And then there was Jack.
Jack was dead, again. At first Ianto had debated moving him, but at this time of day the streets above them would be packed with people and if he were to climb out lugging a dead body someone was bound to notice. In his experience, that sort of a thing would hard to explain, especially if Jack came back to life in mid-transport. No, despite the sewers being cold and rank they were better off remaining here until Jack came back to life.
So here they stayed.
The Weevils had managed to do quite a bit of damage to Jack’s wardrobe before he’d killed them and they’d killed him. There would be no mending the shirt, not with those large slashes to it, but with luck the massive amounts of muck and blood on the pants might come out. Ianto wished he had a fresh set of clothes to change Jack into, but there was nothing he could do about that now.
Nothing to do but sit and wait.
Ianto leaned back against the cool brick wall, his hand wrapped lightly around Jack’s. Better safe than sorry when it came to the things that creeped and crawled and went bump in the night, or in the sewer. Jack always said it wasn’t necessary, that once he was dead it didn’t matter, but Ianto couldn’t accept that. It was his duty to sit vigil and protect his Captain when the man couldn’t protect himself. It wasn’t much, but it was the least he could do.