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Ianto's Sacrifice
Fandom: Torchwood (what else?)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1895
Summary: Ianto finds an unexpected arrival in the Hub, and learns a thing or two about immortality...
Prompt: 052. Fire.
Ianto's Sacrifice
Ianto was about to leave the Hub when he heard it. A feeble splash and squawk, followed only by the soft lapping of ripples hitting the sides of the pool, and then nothing more.
He went to investigate, leaving his coat folded over the nearest railing, and moved to the edge of the pool of water, frowning at it. Spotting something out of place, he edged round for a closer look, then realised that there was a bird in the pool. It was featherless, but the size of an adult hawk, and clearly drowning.
Pausing only to slip out of his shoes and get his socks off, he waded in and fished the dying bird out. It twitched in his hands, water pouring from its beak, and he looked up at the ceiling, checking that the lift was closed. How had it got in? And what on earth had happened to pluck every feather from its body?
He splashed back to dry land, frowning at the bird and wondering what species it was. Difficult to tell without the plumage.
With a sigh, he shook some of the water from his feet and considered the matter. The poor thing was dead now. He could take it to the vets to dispose of, he supposed, though no doubt Myfanwy would be happy to eat it for him.
“Ianto?” Jack said, wandering out of his office and down to the walkway beside the fountain. “What are you up –”
With a gasp, he broke off, then leaned swiftly over from the walkway and snatched the dead bird out of Ianto’s hands. He’d bolted back to his office before Ianto could ask him what he was doing.
A moment later, he reappeared in his office doorway, yelling, “Ianto, get me a dozen lighters and a box of matches! Hurry!”
Ianto blinked for a second, then, picking up on the desperation in Jack’s voice, ran to obey, bare feet and all.
When he returned to Jack’s office he registered the mess of stuff on the floor before he saw what had happened to the desk. Jack had cleared the surface – that was why the floor was suddenly a scrapheap of ornaments and alien tech – and piled up every piece of paper in the middle of the desk. The body of the bird was nestled in amongst the month’s paperwork: reports and request forms and accounts and bills, and Ianto’s drafted replies to urgent letters from the government – and the letters themselves.
He made a strangled sound of agony, and Jack whirled round from the cupboard in the corner, his decanter of scotch in one hand. Seeing the matches and lighters in Ianto’s hands, he sighed with relief, saying, “You’re incredible. Help me...” and proceeded to tip the scotch over the pile, then reached over the desk to take the lighters from Ianto, who was still standing frozen in place, trying not to break down in tears.
“I need something I love,” Jack said hurriedly, breaking open some of the lighters and tipping the fuel onto the pile, and shoving a few of the others in amongst the papers haphazardly. “I have to add something I love to the pyre before I can light it, or it won’t work.”
Ianto found himself looking around at the things cast aside on the floor, but nothing caught his eye. He tried to remember what had been in the room in the first place. Jack had plenty of mementos, and accumulated more random clutter more quickly than anyone else Ianto knew, but he wouldn’t have said that Jack loved anything here.
Jack finished with the lighters, and then picked up the box of matches and looked around, saying, “I can’t think of anything. Ianto, what can I use?”
There was a pause, and then Ianto sighed, and pulled a small photograph from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He reached over the desk to take the matches from Jack, struck one, and held the picture of himself and Lisa in the flame until it caught, then dropped it onto the pile of paper and stepped back as the whole thing roared into flames.
Jack stared at him from the other side of the fire, unflinching when the lighters exploded and his desk scorched and smoked in the blaze. Ianto held his gaze, preferring to face Jack’s compassionate understanding than to watch the last record of Lisa’s humanity burn to nothing.
All of a sudden, the fire flooded upwards in a spinning column of flame, then lapped out sideways for a second and collapsed back into the ashes of the pile, going out abruptly. The bird, standing alive on the crumbling pyre, now covered with feathers of fire and spreading its blazing wings wide, raised its head and sang out three notes, pure and clear like the ring of glass bells.
Ianto realised he’d been holding his breath, and let it go gently, while Jack held out a hand to the bird, crooning softly, “There you are, beautiful. You’re alright, aren’t you?”
The bird hopped onto his outstretched hand and preened itself, Jack grinning like he’d just been given ten years’ worth of Christmas and birthday presents in one go, and apparently unharmed by the flames licking his skin wherever the bird touched him. He stroked the bird’s head with the back of one finger, murmuring gentle compliments and praise for a few moments, then glanced up at Ianto and smiled more softly.
“A phoenix,” Ianto said quietly, and Jack nodded.
“Kinda,” he grinned, then walked slowly around the desk to bring the bird closer to Ianto.
“Jack, I don’t...” Ianto started to say, taking a step back, but Jack was already holding the bird out towards him.
“He won’t burn you,” he promised. “You saved him. Come on.”
Ianto still hesitated, but the bird turned its head to peer quizzically at him, and chirped lyrically. Cautiously, Ianto reached out and touched the tip of one finger to the bird’s head. The flames didn’t touch him.
Gently, he stroked the bird’s head. It was smooth as silk, and cool to the touch, and he smiled slowly, running his fingers down the bird’s chest and watching the flames lap over his knuckles.
“See?” Jack said softly, and Ianto glanced briefly at him, smiling wider.
The bird raised one foot from Jack’s hand, and held it out towards Ianto’s. Ianto froze, then blinked in surprise as the bird stepped onto his hand and chirped again. Nervously, Ianto stroked the bird’s chest with his other hand, and then the bird spread its wings and hopped up, with one flap, to his shoulder. There it crooned at Ianto and rubbed its head against his cheek, silken flames caressing his skin.
“He likes you,” Jack smiled, and Ianto couldn’t help the delighted expression that spread across his face. The sorrow he’d felt at the loss of the photograph was very nearly extinguished by the unexpected wave of relief springing from the bird’s revival. He hadn’t expected to feel so strongly thankful for its resurrection.
“They have that effect on people,” Jack told him, grinning. He reached up to stroke the bird’s back, murmuring, “Now what are we going to do with you?”
The bird shuffled on Ianto’s shoulder, flames curling around his suit and leaving it unharmed.
“We can’t keep him,” Ianto said softly. “Myfanwy would go berserk.”
Jack sighed, saying, “He’s all alone in the world, though. The only one of his kind on the Earth.”
He stopped when he saw how Ianto was staring at him, and asked, “What?”
“Do you know how many phoenix legends there are, Jack?” Ianto said, eyebrows raised, and the bird on his shoulder spread one wing to caress the back of his head. He raised his hand and the bird walked down his arm to perch there again.
“You know, you might be right,” Jack smiled.
Ianto stroked the bird’s neck, and said, “You know more about these birds than I do. If we just let him go, what are his chances?”
“Better than if we keep him here,” Jack admitted, watching the bird rub its head against the palm of Ianto’s hand affectionately. “As long as it isn’t raining.”
Shaking his head, Ianto told him, “We’re forecast clear weather for the next few days.”
“Alright then,” said Jack decidedly. “Sooner the better, I guess.”
Ianto followed him over to the lift, making a fuss of the bird as he went, and stood by Jack on the paving stone, both of them stroking and petting the bird while the lift started upwards.
“How did you know what to do?” Ianto asked quietly after a moment, keeping his eyes on the bird as it chirped and preened under their attention.
“I’ve seen them before,” Jack said, taking his time explaining as they headed towards the surface. “Visited their planet. Beautiful place – you should have seen it. Whole flocks of firebirds flying at night. And the sentient inhabitants of the planet adored them. They kept them as pets and devoted themselves to looking after the entire species royally. Resurrected any individual bird that died. I saw it done while I was there, when the family I was staying with revived one that had got caught out in the rain.”
Ianto said nothing, watching the bird raise its head and look around curiously as they reached the surface. The sun was setting, and the sky was molten gold, and Ianto was standing barefoot in front of the Millennium Fountain, with a phoenix burning brightly on his hand. No-one even looked at them. He couldn’t help smiling.
“They had a legend about how they found out the birds could be brought back,” Jack said softly, watching their phoenix half-spread its wings cautiously, turning its head to follow the people passing by.
“They said that there was a scholar who had a firebird as a pet. He loved it more than anything apart from his books. But it died. He was so distraught he made a pyre for it, then hurled his books into the flames in a fit of rage. And the bird came back.”
Their phoenix ducked its head and nipped Ianto’s thumb gently, then chirruped at Jack and launched itself from Ianto’s hand. It soared up into the air swiftly, startling the two girls walking past. When they looked up to check that they hadn’t been imagining things, uncertain of what the flash of light had been, the bird was lost in sunset fires, indistinguishable from the glowing sky.
“Why does it work?” Ianto asked, squinting up at the clouds and wondering if that spark was the bird they’d saved, or if he was looking in completely the wrong place.
“I don’t know,” Jack said beside him, looking up as well. “It just does. Immortality always comes with a price.”
They stayed where they were for a few moments more, and then Ianto was almost certain he heard – so very faintly – three lingering notes, clear and pure like ringing glass bells. He smiled, and looked back down as the shadows lengthened in Roald Dahl Plass.
“Jack,” he said idly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Mm?” Jack asked, still staring at the sky.
Ianto glanced at him, and grinned.
“Do you have any idea how much paperwork you’re going to have to redo?”
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1895
Summary: Ianto finds an unexpected arrival in the Hub, and learns a thing or two about immortality...
Prompt: 052. Fire.
Ianto's Sacrifice
Ianto was about to leave the Hub when he heard it. A feeble splash and squawk, followed only by the soft lapping of ripples hitting the sides of the pool, and then nothing more.
He went to investigate, leaving his coat folded over the nearest railing, and moved to the edge of the pool of water, frowning at it. Spotting something out of place, he edged round for a closer look, then realised that there was a bird in the pool. It was featherless, but the size of an adult hawk, and clearly drowning.
Pausing only to slip out of his shoes and get his socks off, he waded in and fished the dying bird out. It twitched in his hands, water pouring from its beak, and he looked up at the ceiling, checking that the lift was closed. How had it got in? And what on earth had happened to pluck every feather from its body?
He splashed back to dry land, frowning at the bird and wondering what species it was. Difficult to tell without the plumage.
With a sigh, he shook some of the water from his feet and considered the matter. The poor thing was dead now. He could take it to the vets to dispose of, he supposed, though no doubt Myfanwy would be happy to eat it for him.
“Ianto?” Jack said, wandering out of his office and down to the walkway beside the fountain. “What are you up –”
With a gasp, he broke off, then leaned swiftly over from the walkway and snatched the dead bird out of Ianto’s hands. He’d bolted back to his office before Ianto could ask him what he was doing.
A moment later, he reappeared in his office doorway, yelling, “Ianto, get me a dozen lighters and a box of matches! Hurry!”
Ianto blinked for a second, then, picking up on the desperation in Jack’s voice, ran to obey, bare feet and all.
When he returned to Jack’s office he registered the mess of stuff on the floor before he saw what had happened to the desk. Jack had cleared the surface – that was why the floor was suddenly a scrapheap of ornaments and alien tech – and piled up every piece of paper in the middle of the desk. The body of the bird was nestled in amongst the month’s paperwork: reports and request forms and accounts and bills, and Ianto’s drafted replies to urgent letters from the government – and the letters themselves.
He made a strangled sound of agony, and Jack whirled round from the cupboard in the corner, his decanter of scotch in one hand. Seeing the matches and lighters in Ianto’s hands, he sighed with relief, saying, “You’re incredible. Help me...” and proceeded to tip the scotch over the pile, then reached over the desk to take the lighters from Ianto, who was still standing frozen in place, trying not to break down in tears.
“I need something I love,” Jack said hurriedly, breaking open some of the lighters and tipping the fuel onto the pile, and shoving a few of the others in amongst the papers haphazardly. “I have to add something I love to the pyre before I can light it, or it won’t work.”
Ianto found himself looking around at the things cast aside on the floor, but nothing caught his eye. He tried to remember what had been in the room in the first place. Jack had plenty of mementos, and accumulated more random clutter more quickly than anyone else Ianto knew, but he wouldn’t have said that Jack loved anything here.
Jack finished with the lighters, and then picked up the box of matches and looked around, saying, “I can’t think of anything. Ianto, what can I use?”
There was a pause, and then Ianto sighed, and pulled a small photograph from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He reached over the desk to take the matches from Jack, struck one, and held the picture of himself and Lisa in the flame until it caught, then dropped it onto the pile of paper and stepped back as the whole thing roared into flames.
Jack stared at him from the other side of the fire, unflinching when the lighters exploded and his desk scorched and smoked in the blaze. Ianto held his gaze, preferring to face Jack’s compassionate understanding than to watch the last record of Lisa’s humanity burn to nothing.
All of a sudden, the fire flooded upwards in a spinning column of flame, then lapped out sideways for a second and collapsed back into the ashes of the pile, going out abruptly. The bird, standing alive on the crumbling pyre, now covered with feathers of fire and spreading its blazing wings wide, raised its head and sang out three notes, pure and clear like the ring of glass bells.
Ianto realised he’d been holding his breath, and let it go gently, while Jack held out a hand to the bird, crooning softly, “There you are, beautiful. You’re alright, aren’t you?”
The bird hopped onto his outstretched hand and preened itself, Jack grinning like he’d just been given ten years’ worth of Christmas and birthday presents in one go, and apparently unharmed by the flames licking his skin wherever the bird touched him. He stroked the bird’s head with the back of one finger, murmuring gentle compliments and praise for a few moments, then glanced up at Ianto and smiled more softly.
“A phoenix,” Ianto said quietly, and Jack nodded.
“Kinda,” he grinned, then walked slowly around the desk to bring the bird closer to Ianto.
“Jack, I don’t...” Ianto started to say, taking a step back, but Jack was already holding the bird out towards him.
“He won’t burn you,” he promised. “You saved him. Come on.”
Ianto still hesitated, but the bird turned its head to peer quizzically at him, and chirped lyrically. Cautiously, Ianto reached out and touched the tip of one finger to the bird’s head. The flames didn’t touch him.
Gently, he stroked the bird’s head. It was smooth as silk, and cool to the touch, and he smiled slowly, running his fingers down the bird’s chest and watching the flames lap over his knuckles.
“See?” Jack said softly, and Ianto glanced briefly at him, smiling wider.
The bird raised one foot from Jack’s hand, and held it out towards Ianto’s. Ianto froze, then blinked in surprise as the bird stepped onto his hand and chirped again. Nervously, Ianto stroked the bird’s chest with his other hand, and then the bird spread its wings and hopped up, with one flap, to his shoulder. There it crooned at Ianto and rubbed its head against his cheek, silken flames caressing his skin.
“He likes you,” Jack smiled, and Ianto couldn’t help the delighted expression that spread across his face. The sorrow he’d felt at the loss of the photograph was very nearly extinguished by the unexpected wave of relief springing from the bird’s revival. He hadn’t expected to feel so strongly thankful for its resurrection.
“They have that effect on people,” Jack told him, grinning. He reached up to stroke the bird’s back, murmuring, “Now what are we going to do with you?”
The bird shuffled on Ianto’s shoulder, flames curling around his suit and leaving it unharmed.
“We can’t keep him,” Ianto said softly. “Myfanwy would go berserk.”
Jack sighed, saying, “He’s all alone in the world, though. The only one of his kind on the Earth.”
He stopped when he saw how Ianto was staring at him, and asked, “What?”
“Do you know how many phoenix legends there are, Jack?” Ianto said, eyebrows raised, and the bird on his shoulder spread one wing to caress the back of his head. He raised his hand and the bird walked down his arm to perch there again.
“You know, you might be right,” Jack smiled.
Ianto stroked the bird’s neck, and said, “You know more about these birds than I do. If we just let him go, what are his chances?”
“Better than if we keep him here,” Jack admitted, watching the bird rub its head against the palm of Ianto’s hand affectionately. “As long as it isn’t raining.”
Shaking his head, Ianto told him, “We’re forecast clear weather for the next few days.”
“Alright then,” said Jack decidedly. “Sooner the better, I guess.”
Ianto followed him over to the lift, making a fuss of the bird as he went, and stood by Jack on the paving stone, both of them stroking and petting the bird while the lift started upwards.
“How did you know what to do?” Ianto asked quietly after a moment, keeping his eyes on the bird as it chirped and preened under their attention.
“I’ve seen them before,” Jack said, taking his time explaining as they headed towards the surface. “Visited their planet. Beautiful place – you should have seen it. Whole flocks of firebirds flying at night. And the sentient inhabitants of the planet adored them. They kept them as pets and devoted themselves to looking after the entire species royally. Resurrected any individual bird that died. I saw it done while I was there, when the family I was staying with revived one that had got caught out in the rain.”
Ianto said nothing, watching the bird raise its head and look around curiously as they reached the surface. The sun was setting, and the sky was molten gold, and Ianto was standing barefoot in front of the Millennium Fountain, with a phoenix burning brightly on his hand. No-one even looked at them. He couldn’t help smiling.
“They had a legend about how they found out the birds could be brought back,” Jack said softly, watching their phoenix half-spread its wings cautiously, turning its head to follow the people passing by.
“They said that there was a scholar who had a firebird as a pet. He loved it more than anything apart from his books. But it died. He was so distraught he made a pyre for it, then hurled his books into the flames in a fit of rage. And the bird came back.”
Their phoenix ducked its head and nipped Ianto’s thumb gently, then chirruped at Jack and launched itself from Ianto’s hand. It soared up into the air swiftly, startling the two girls walking past. When they looked up to check that they hadn’t been imagining things, uncertain of what the flash of light had been, the bird was lost in sunset fires, indistinguishable from the glowing sky.
“Why does it work?” Ianto asked, squinting up at the clouds and wondering if that spark was the bird they’d saved, or if he was looking in completely the wrong place.
“I don’t know,” Jack said beside him, looking up as well. “It just does. Immortality always comes with a price.”
They stayed where they were for a few moments more, and then Ianto was almost certain he heard – so very faintly – three lingering notes, clear and pure like ringing glass bells. He smiled, and looked back down as the shadows lengthened in Roald Dahl Plass.
“Jack,” he said idly, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“Mm?” Jack asked, still staring at the sky.
Ianto glanced at him, and grinned.
“Do you have any idea how much paperwork you’re going to have to redo?”
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*shakes fist* You doubted him?! XD
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And i never doubted him, I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, doubted him. At all. never.
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"Never doubted him. Never will."
;)
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And true.
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I've only just gone and realised that I left my USB drive at school. In one of the computers.
With all my Torchwood fic on it.
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OMG with all your TW Fic on!!! That is no way very good! That not good! Oh Noes...
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But.
But.
I have about 50 ideas plotted out on there! I can't afford for anyone to steal it!
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And 50 plot ideas...you planning on writing them all?
I'm working on my lovely Crack Fic Bunny series.
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And yes, I'm planning on writing all of them eventually. Some may end up combined or changed somewhat, but they all have the glimmer of possibility in them...
I liked the Bunny series. I'm glad to hear there's more. ^_^
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Wow all of them. Hmm...I think I got one or two more to write then I'm all outta plot ideas.
And yes I was told quite specifically this weekend by CS_WhiteWolf, that I had to write more, so I'm writing more!
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*looks forward to new chapters* ^_^
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And there's always cheerful fluff fic! (And lots of it, if my list's anything to go by. ^_~)
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:D Let it inspire you! :P
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