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Fic: Last of the Rift Born. (1/?)

Yes, I know the Torchwood/Being Human crossover isn't quite finished, but I will get there shortly. So for anybody still reading my Torchwood fics, here finally is a Jack/Ianto one. Okay, mostly Ianto to start, but Jack does turn up eventually.

Title: Last of the Rift Born (1/? Probably about 10)
Rating: Adult over all – this part PG.
Word count: This part 1650. Total will be at least 20k.
Pairing. Jack/Ianto
Contains: Mention of canon character death (Ianto – but this is a fix-it fic, so not permanent) and temporary Jack death in later part.

Summary: Alone in the House of the Dead Ianto has a choice to make. The result of which will change his life forever. (Set directly after Jack leaves in House of the Dead radio play.)

Telling Jack that he wasn't going to follow him out of the House of the Dead was one of the hardest things that Ianto had ever done. He'd had to do it though, letting Jack sacrifice himself or worse the Earth, wasn't in any way, shape or form acceptable. Ianto knew only too well how something done out of love could end up destroying lives.

Alone in the House of the Dead, Ianto looked at the box containing fragments of stone and coal from across south Wales. In a few moments he would have to detonate it, the residual temporal energy in the dust from the shattered rocks shorting out the Rift and sealing it forever. The Siriath would be prevented from crossing though and Jack and the rest of the world would be safe.

He ran his finger over the simple push button detonator and wondered what he would have done if Jack had thought to have put a timer on the device. They could have left it somewhere secure in the building and just walked out together. Even a delay of a few seconds would have meant they could have stood at the door, pressed the button and thrown it into the bar to explode as they stepped outside.

It was all so unfair. He'd only learnt that he was dead mere minutes before and he'd had Jack tell him that he loves him and that he'd wanted to see him more than anybody else in the world and now he had to die again. Yet he knows there was nothing else he could do. Jack's life and that of everybody else on Earth had to come before his own, especially as they had been no guarantee that he wouldn't have just vanished after he left the House of the Dead.

He closed his eyes, feeling tears burning behind them. He had so many things left that he still wanted to do or see. So many regrets and fears too, the worse of which currently was whether Jack really would be safe or if he try to find another way to consign himself to oblivion, another way trap himself between worlds?

The phrase made him frown. Trapped between worlds. If this was the space between worlds and there was door to Cardiff, then surely there had to also a door to somewhere else? He knew the Rift research that Tosh had done almost as well as she had herself. The Rift was a temporal­spatial tear in the fabric of the universe. One end was fixed in Cardiff Bay, plus or minus five miles, while the other wandered, seemingly at random, throughout all of space and time. Once the device exploded and the dust was released from the box the Cardiff end of the Rift would be sealed and the House of the Dead would, in all likelihood be destroyed as well. The other end of it might still be open though, the one that could spit him out anywhere or any when in time and space. And that, Ianto decided, was his way out.

Jack had seemed to have at least a little hope that if he'd walked with him from the House of the Dead that he'd have been alive again. There was no reason to believe that leaving the strange space that he currently occupied within the Rift via a different exit would have a different result. It was at the very least, Ianto decided, worth a try. He really didn't have much to lose by trying it.

“You are a fool.”

Ianto opened his eyes and spun round to see an old woman sat in the corner of the pub. Dressed in ragged, nondescript clothing, her long grey hair hung matted and dishevelled across her face. “You're the Siriath.”

She laughed, a wheezing, death like rattle and then stood up. “You could have been free. Now you will fade like most who come to this place.”

“Only most?” Ianto asked as he watched the door through which Jack had left start to shimmer and eventually fade back into the wall as if it had never existed.

There was a flicker of something eldritch and cunning in Siriath's eyes. “Jack left, didn't he? What else did you think I meant?”

Definitely something else, Ianto decided, wondering if he could play the Siriath at her own game and trick her into revealing what she had truly meant. “You don't seem worried that your way to Earth has just vanished into a wall or that all I need to do is press this button. Why is that?”

“Do you really think I need something so mundane as a door?” The whole of the wall where the door had once been started to shimmer, something twisting and moving in the darkness behind it, vague shapes that could as easily be people walking as trees swaying in the wind.

“If that's true then I should I press this now,” Ianto said, wondering if he was imagining that his hands felt slick with nervous sweat. Could ghosts sweat? And if they couldn't did it mean he was hallucinating it or did it mean he wasn't a ghost?

“But you won't.”

“Why shouldn't I?” Ianto countered. “I'm already dead. You said yourself I'm just going to fade away. Shutting the Rift will keep the people I love and care about safe. So tell me, why shouldn't I?”

Siriath moved closer to Ianto. “I've dwelt between the worlds for countless ages. I know the secrets of this place, of what happens to those who leave.” She held out a hand. Bony and withered, her nails claw­like on the ends of her hooked and gnarled fingers. “Give me the stones, boy, and I'll share that knowledge.”

Ianto shook his head and took another step back towards to the bar. “You've done nothing but lie since you first spoke to me. Why should I trust you now?”

“You have nothing to lose.” Siriath smiled, revealing a mouth full of jagged, blackened teeth. “I can give you power, I can give you life. I can set you free.”

“No, you can't,” Ianto replied, realising that the Siriath was just trying to buy herself enough time for the barrier between the worlds to break down. “If you could do any of that you wouldn't be sitting here waiting for the Rift.”

The Siriath clicked her tongue. “Too clever you. Those memories of what you thought your father thought of you did you no justice.”

“The man I saw here, he wasn't my father, was he?” Ianto said, realising that despite the differences that he'd had with his dad, he couldn’t bear the thought of Siriath having done anything to his ghost. “Neither was Gwen, was she?” he added, hoping that Siriath could impersonate the living as well as the dead, because he wasn't ready to contemplate having lost one of the few friends he had left.

“Constructs pulled from your own feeble mind.” She took another step forwards. “The human mind is so simple, your desires all so base. I have watched and waited in the spaces in between, I have whispered in their dreams, I am what moves in the dark. I am what comes at the last breath of you all.”

Letting the Siriath boast, Ianto glanced behind him and saw out of the corner of his eye a door to the side of the bar. He supposed that, were the House of the Dead a real pub, it would most likely lead to a beer garden, which by the décor of the place would probably be a couple of picnic tables with peeling paint and a faded, sagging parasol. But the House of the Dead wasn't real and where it lead it was impossible to say, it all depended on where the other end of Rift was at the moment.

“You think you are so clever, but you are paralysed by the mortality that has long since fled your body. You are too late,” Siriath said, turning at last to face the on­coming wall of light. “It will swallow us whole. You will fade and I will be free to feed on all those petty hopes and fears that you humans think are so important.”

“I can't let you do that,” Ianto said, knowing that he had run out of time. The door was so close behind him, but there was no way he could be sure of getting to it and stopping Siriath. So close yet so far. That was the story of his life, Ianto thought, as he took a shaky breath and then pressed the detonator.

As explosions went the one from the charge in the box was totally underwhelming. It reminded him of indoor fireworks. Things that had names like Ultimate Super Volcano and which fizzed for a few seconds, gave a pop and then went out.

The dust drifted towards the shimmering wall of light that had now advanced across most of the pub and then seemed to settle on its surface. For a moment nothing happened and Ianto felt his heart sink. Maybe Jack had been wrong or perhaps he'd not been close enough or had left it too late. Then the shimmering froze, the ripples of light and energy seeming to crystallise, before holes started to appear in it. Siriath shrieked in rage as she watched it start to collapse in on itself, everything tumbling back into darkness.

There was a sudden build­up of pressure in the room that made Ianto's ears ache, but there was no time to try to understand what was happening as a wave of energy hit them. Silent and powerful, it hurled them both backwards, Siriath colliding with the solid, wooden bar, while Ianto was lifted off his feet and thrown against the door at the side of it. The ancient wood shattered and with a cry of pain and surprise Ianto tumbled backwards out of the House of the Dead and into the unknown.

Part 2: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/248126.html


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