m-findlow.livejournal.com

Title: New in town
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 3,862 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 178 - New
Summary: An old foe leads to a new recruit

Ianto's feet pounded the pavement as he ran in pursuit, ignoring the water that splashed his shoes and the bottom of his trousers as he trod through puddles. It had been raining all day but had stopped as evening had fallen, yet the ground remained slick and littered with large pools of water.

It was unusual to be chasing a weevil. They weren't the sort of creatures to take off at a run when they saw someone, preferring to stand their ground, but this one was loping down the streets, forcing Ianto to give chase, whilst Jack dealt with its counterpart who'd decided to make a stand.

Normally they'd have let a running weevil go. If it decided tonight wasn't the night for tearing a chunk out of you, then that was fine by them. Usually they'd just totter off back to their nest and live to scare another day. This one however wasn't tagged. Like his companion, they were newcomers to the city, and had to be dealt with accordingly. Weevils were chipped when they were caught so that the team could monitor their movements.

It was as much a safety precaution as it was an opportunity to learn more about them, watching as they grouped together in colonies. When they strayed too far from their designated safe nesting areas, that would be when the team would step in to quietly remove them from populated areas. It was as much for the weevils safety as everyone else's. A weevil might be capable of killing or seriously injuring a person, but more than once they'd arrived to find it was the weevil who'd come off second best. Probably a run in with drunks or a gang of hoodlums, who'd decided to give it what for with broken bottles or steel crowbars. Unpleasant as weevils were, there was sympathy for those that bore the brutality of the human condition.

As he gave chase Ianto noted that it wasn't the biggest weevil he'd ever seen, but it was definitely one of the tallest, almost slender rather than their usual stocky frame. He saw it duck around a nearby corner and felt relieved. The street was nothing more than a narrow alleyway with no exit. Now all he had to do was subdue the creature, and look forward to the traditional victory sex that followed.

The weevil was at the far end of the alley. Ianto proceeded slowly down its length, holding his arms out wide, making himself look bigger. Weevils didn't like that. Size had a lot to do with their social hierarchy.

'Hello,' Ianto began slowly speaking. 'Welcome to our tour of Cardiff's finest sewers. My name's Ianto Jones and I'll be your guide for this evening.'

The weevil gave a low growl.

'Our first stop this evening will be the famous Torchwood hub. Built in 1869, it features some of the earliest examples of Victorian age plumbing.'

The weevil tensed, shifting from foot to foot as Ianto approached closer.

'After that, we'll be taking you on a tour of the streets of Cardiff, and giving you a chance to experience first hand, life in one of the city's most modernised public waste removal systems. If you have any questions along the way, please feel free to ask.'

With only a yard or two separating them now, Ianto made sure he had a firm grip on the weevil spray in his left hand, and the stun gun in his right. The weevil watched him closely, but had cowered slightly and looked ready to give in. Just as Ianto stepped close enough to administer the spray it lunged unexpectedly.

He manged to weave around the first assault, but as he spun and came face to face with the creature now with his own back to the alley wall, he lost his footing, his shoe slipping in a wide puddle, which sent him tumbling backwards. He landed hard on his back, feeling the air knocked out of him. He'd reached out his left hand to stop and break his fall, but the speed and angle were all wrong, and he heard his forearm snap as he fell on top of it.

The weevil was on top of him seconds later, deciding now that it had the upper hand, which it did. Despite not being as heavy set, it still weighed a ton as it crushed Ianto's body beneath its own. His spray had skittered a few yards away when he'd reached out to stop himself falling, but his stun gun was still clutched tightly in his right hand. He managed to free his arm from underneath the weevil and press the gun against its side, letting it take the maximum stun before it took a chunk out of his neck with its teeth.

The shock from the gun hit them both. The weevil was pressed so close to his own body, that part of the voltage was transferring straight into him. He kept going, knowing that it took a lot to down a weevil, especially one this tall. Usually the spray and the stun gun were just there to get it on the ground for a few moments, until they could administer the sedative. They weren't designed to stop a weevil on their own.

He kept his finger pressed to the trigger as long as he could, feeling it growing loose in his hand as his own body took a share of the voltage. It was only a small share, but on maximum, and at a sustained dose, it was more than enough for a human to be able to withstand. The world began to fade and he thought that if it didn't knock out the weevil, at least he wouldn't feel a thing as it tore him limb from limb.

Jack had the other weevil trussed up and ready for transport. He'd been a brute of a thing to subdue, and Jack was sporting a couple of deep slashes on his arm that were still in the process of healing. Ianto should have the other one by now, he thought. That or it had gotten away, which would have been disappointing, but not the end of the world.

He tapped his comms. 'Ianto, any joy with Arnie?'

He'd already named them Arnie and Danny, because one was ridiculously tall, and the other short and stocky, which reminded him of a movie he'd seen in the eighties.

When he didn't get a response, he immediately began tracking the signal to Ianto's location, hoping it was just a case of having his hands full and being too busy to reply. When he came to the mouth of the alley and saw the pair of them lying there, he ran. He feared the worst when he got closer and saw the weevil on top of him, Ianto's arm hanging limply at his side, his gun just inches away, where it had fallen from his grip. He hauled the weevil off of him, finding it alive but unconscious, quickly injecting a sedative before turning to his lover. He choked back a sob of relief when he saw his chest rising and falling, cupping a hand to his cheek and checking over his body for other injuries.

Ianto groaned as he finally came to.

'You okay?' Jack asked.

'Mmm,' Ianto hummed, thanking his lucky stars he was still in one piece. Jack helped him to sit up and as he did, he cried out, his left arm which had been pinned underneath his body, screaming with pain.

'What's wrong?' Jack said, looking worried.

'Think I broke my arm when I fell,' he replied, trying to cradle the painful limb.

Jack carefully inspected it, seeing how the lower section hung limp and at an odd angle, rather that straight and sure.

'I'm no doctor, but I think you're right.'

Jack left Ianto in the alley with Arnie whilst he went and fetched the SUV, which was several blocks away, parking it at the top of the alley, so that he only had to drag the tall weevil a few dozen yards before loading it inside.

Ianto grabbed some painkillers from the medical kit in the back of the car, whilst Jack fetched a triangular bandage and another roll of bandage.

'What are you doing with that spanner?' Ianto asked, looking oddly at Jack as he approached Ianto, who was sitting on the edge of the back seat, cradling his arm against his body.

'Only thing I could find for a splint,' he replied gently pressing it along the length of his forearm, and wrapping the bandage around it near his elbow and at his wrist. He finished off by tying a sling around Ianto's neck so that he could rest the limb comfortably inside.

'Nice job,' Ianto said, feeling secure with his arm wrapped up.

'I'll drop you off at the hospital on the way so that they can patch you up properly.'

Great, Ianto thought, realising that he was going to be stuck with a broken arm for several weeks now.

Twenty minutes later Jack was pulled up outside the A & E entrance, though it looked more like a car park, with ambulances and vehicles everywhere.

'I'll come back once I've got these two moved into their new home,' Jack said.

'Don't bother,' Ianto replied. 'It'll take you a few hours to get them tagged and logged in our system, and longer to drop them off on your own. I'll meet you at home. Don't wait up.'

'Okay, well if you're sure.'

'I'm sure.'

Walking into A & E was like stepping into a war zone. Everywhere he looked there were people crammed in: patients, relatives, police and paramedics, doctors and nurses. If they thought they had it tough, working for Torchwood, it was nothing compared to the utter bedlam in here.

He stood at the counter in a queue for about half an hour until he finally reached the desk, and the frazzled looking nurse on duty. She took down his details and consulted the screen in front of her.

'No medical history for the past five years,' she said.

'Don't get sick much,' he replied.

All of his medical history was tucked away in a database back at the hub. It was a lengthy and colorful record, too. Had anyone at the hospital seen it, they might well have called in the police, or at least insisted on a psychiatric consultation. No one in their right mind sustained that many injuries without either being mentally deranged or suicidal.

The nurse came out from behind the desk to quickly check over his arm, and satisfied that it was suitably supported for now, she indicated for him to take a seat in the waiting area, knowing that he'd have to wait his turn.

'Saturday nights are always the worst,' she said.

He sat and watched as the chaos continued around him. This was the place where every incidence of violence of pain congregated, and it surprised him just how much could happen in a single night in this one tiny little city. He hated to imagine what the emergency departments in London must look like.

There was every kind of injury and incident imaginable walking through the doors: drunken hooligans, burns, asthma attack, two guys who'd been glassed in the face during a brawl, a baby drowning in a bathtub, drug overdoses, homeless folk suffering hypothermia and probably a dozen other ailments, concussions, sprains, fevers, allergies. You name it, it came in through those doors, on two feet, two wheels or four. No sooner had paramedics rolled in one emergency patient, then they were hurrying out the door and back in their vans on the next call out, their radios constantly chattering with incidents that required them.

He watched as the doctors and nurses raced about in a neat fashion, never looking panicked,  but always on the move. He tried to imagine a younger version of Owen following them around, sharpening his claws in the toughest part of any hospital. He understood now why Owen had been the gruff, no nonsense medical officer he had been. Around here, there wasn't time for compassion and hand holding. There was an endless stream of people who needed to be treated. It wasn't that they didn't care, they just didn't have time. Time spent mollycoddling one patient, meant three more didn't get seen. He admired their work and their ceaseless endeavour. The NHS might have been the pride of Britain, but they were vastly underfunded and underresourced, thanks to selfish politicians in Whitehall.

He'd probably never thanked Owen enough for the job he did. Just like his own job, it always felt like the others didn't really appreciate just how much work was involved. It was the whole reason he was here in the first place. Had Owen still been around, he'd have gone straight back to the hub, been x-rayed and his arm reset in plaster within an hour.

Without a medical officer anymore, they were left to treat their own injuries. Basic first aid was easy and they could all deal with minor cuts and bruises, but anything more serious was outside of their experience. Even conducting alien autopsies they managed, but Ianto wasn't sure that they were getting the full picture. There must have been dozens of things they'd missed, simply because physiology and a background in chemistry was what made doctors good at what they did. Even Jack's vast experience didn't help them much more. He insisted he could perform basic emergency medicine, could put in an IV line, administer basic medications and the like, but neither of them would let him stitch up their cuts after his first attempt. He'd even earned himself the title Butcher of Boeshane.

Ianto continued to sit there, in those atrociously uncomfortable plastic chairs. He had no idea how long it had been until he pulled out his phone to check the time, his watch now bandaged and covered. He'd come in around nine pm and now it was well after midnight.

A couple of elderly volunteer ladies came around in wide blue aprons and offered tea and coffee to those waiting. He politely declined them the first time, and an hour and a half later, he gratefully accepted the weak, lukewarm tea, just to give him something to pass the time.

An hour after that, despite the raucous, he found himself nodding off in the chair, only to be woken by the visceral screams of the next patient who rolled through the doors, restrained on the gurney by no less than three police officers and four paramedics trying to control him.

Ianto knew his injury had been prioritised based on severity, but the longer he sat there, the more emergency cases came in through the doors, shunting him further and further down the list. He was grateful for the painkillers he'd taken earlier, but they'd worn off hours ago, and no one had bothered to offer him any more.

By five am, he'd had enough. He was tired and in pain and just wanted to go home. He staggered over to the front counter and asked them how much longer they thought it might be.

'Day shift comes on at seven,' the nurse replied. 'They should be able to clear the backlog within the first three hours. Things always calm down on Sunday afternoons.'

At the prospect of being stuck waiting at least another four or five hours, plus whatever time it took them to send him for x-rays, he canceled his admission chart and took a taxi home.

He padded quietly into the house, headed for the bathroom and the medicine cabinet, taking a handful of painkillers like they were candy. He spared a glance into their bedroom and saw Jack fast asleep. He'd probably only gotten home a few hours ago himself. Weevil relocation was a two man job at a minimum, but Jack was the stubborn kind who wouldn't lock them up in cells for the night until he had a spare hand to help him settle them in their new home. It was easier on the weevils too if they woke up surrounded by their own, rather than being locked up in a cage, then having to be sedated once more before being transported.

He grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and settled himself on the sofa in their living room,  not wanting to wake Jack. Seconds later, he was asleep.

Jack was surprised to find Ianto not in bed when he woke up. The thought that he hadn't yet come home was answered by the sight of his wallet and keys on the bedside table. If they were here, Ianto couldn't be far away. Perhaps he'd snuck into bed and risen early without Jack noticing.

He padded out to the kitchen to put the kettle on and spied the end of the blanket hanging off the arm of the sofa. He shook his head. Only Ianto would willingly sleep on the sofa when there was perfectly good bed, with a perfectly good looking man already in it. He went to pull the blanket up over him properly when he noticed that the sling on Ianto's arm was the same one from last night. Closer examination showed him it hadn't been cast at all, and that his fingertips were bluish and cold to the touch.

Jack shook him gently awake and received a muffled response.

'Ianto. Why isn't your arm set?'

'Got tired of waiting,' he replied sleepily. 'Thought I'd go back in later.'

Jack touched his fingers and hand again, and Ianto winced in pain.

'You need to get this fixed. Your hand is turning blue.'

Jack drove Ianto back down to the hospital and fronted him back at the counter for the new nurse on shift.

'He came in last night and nobody bothered to look after him,' Jack seethed. 'He'll be on your triage records,' he added gruffly.

She began typing at her computer, avoiding Jack's annoyed glares.

Ianto rested his good arm on Jack's. 'Don't be mad at her. It's not her fault.'

'Here we go,' she said. 'Why don't you sit down over there, and I'll get the doctor to come see you as soon as possible.'

Jack wasn't happy with the response, but let Ianto drag him over to the chairs. He found two that were side by side without an arm rest between them, and leant back against Jack, who wrapped an arm around him, careful not to jostle the broken limb.

A nurse came over to inspect the injury again, noting the cold, blue colour in his fingers.

'The bone is probably cutting off some of the circulation,' she said. 'This'll probably hurt a little,' she said, grasping his arm and manipulating it slightly. He hissed as she readjusted the position of the broken bone.

'Okay, give it a minute and then I want you to try and curl your fingers for me. If it's too painful, just stop.'

Slowly he managed to curled them into a loose grip, and they began to pink up. She pressed on his fingernail, watching go white and then pink again.

'Okay, just keep moving them every so often, and if they start to feel numb, let us know.'

As uncomfortable as the chairs were, Ianto dozed against Jack while they waited, and the next thing he knew he was being woken up, the nurse ready to lead them in to be seen.

Jack stayed by his side whilst the doctor was asking him how he'd broken it, which was easy, since all he had to say was that he slipped in a puddle and landed awkwardly.

With the arm now firmly ensconced in a bright red plaster cast, Jack having insisted that Ianto get a coloured cast, they sat in the cubicle waiting for the nurse to finalise his out-patient notes.

'We need a new doctor, Jack.'

'What was wrong with the one we just had?' he asked. 'I thought he was quite cute,' referring to the young Anglo African man who'd carefully attended to Ianto's injuries. He'd even put up with Jack's harmless attempts at flirting.

'No, I mean, Torchwood needs a new doctor.'

Jack bristled slightly, and Ianto felt the tension in the air.

'I miss Owen too,' he said, 'but we can't keep doing what we do without someone who knows more than we do. Next time it might not be something as simple as a broken arm. What if next time, one of us is bleeding out, or there's a virus that needs a cure developed? We can't do that. I barely passed my biology A levels.'

'I know,' Jack said, sounding resigned. 'It just feels so soon.'

'We're not trying to replace Owen. I don't even think you could. Where would we ever find another grumpy, snarky, foul-mouthed, bad mannered, bad tempered, know it all?'

Jack had to let out a little laugh at that. It was true. Owen was definitely one of a kind in that respect. It was all of his imperfections that Jack had loved, not just the fantastic job he did.

He let out a long sigh. 'A new doctor for the team. I don't know where we'd even begin,' he said.

'Well,' Ianto said, 'we're in a hospital, in the busiest, most frantic, high-pressure department they have. Based on what I've seen here in the last twenty four hours, if we can't find someone here we won't find them anywhere.'

Jack nodded in acquiescence. 'Okay, so seen anyone so far that fits the bill?'

'Well, I wasn't here on a recruitment drive, but I'm sure there's a few.'

'They should be young,' Jack said. 'And good-looking.'

'Not too good-looking,' Ianto replied, shoving Jack playfully. 'Organised.'

'Firm, but not stubborn,' Jack added.

'Knowledgeable, without being arrogant.'

'Single, preferably.'

They continued listing off traits that their new recruit should have until the list was so exhaustive that no one would ever fit the bill.

'We'll never find anyone at this rate,' Jack moaned.

'Agreed. But,' Ianto added as a consolation, 'people seem to have a habit of finding us rather than us finding them.'

'True,' Jack conceded, thinking about Suzie, and Owen, and Gwen. Even Ianto. Serendipity had a way of bringing them all to the fore.

The young doctor pulled back the curtain, chart in his hand.

'Right, well you're all done here. We'll schedule you an appointment in six weeks to get that cast removed and you'll be good as new.'

'Thank you,' Ianto replied.

'Yes, thank you,' Jack paused, scanning the man's name tag, 'Doctor Jeremy Holton.'

'Jez. Everyone calls me Jez. And I should be thanking you. Nice to have a simple case for once. Last week I was treating this bloke who claimed he'd been mauled by a seven foot monster in a blue boiler suit.' He shook his head, smiling. 'Mad, this city is,' he said, leaving them to it.

Jack and Ianto exchanged glances, and a brief smile.

'I think we just found him,' Jack whispered.