Mercury Pheonix (mercury_pheonix) wrote,
Mercury Pheonix

Served Cold | Chapter 11

Title: Served Cold
Torchwood/Doctor Who
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Children of Earth Fix-It.
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gray, Eleventh Doctor, Amy/Rory, Alonso (Some Jack/Alonso)
R – sex, rape, abuse, torture.
All series.
When the Hub explodes, and the cryogenic chambers are flung open, one of its inhabitants manages to flee the wreckage. Seeking revenge, he decides that the best way to hurt Captain Jack Harkness is through a certain Welshman. There's one problem, however – Ianto Jones is dead…

A/N: I cannot believe the response to this fic. It's completely overwhelming, and I literally cannot believe it. Thank you so much. I know it has been a long, hard road so far in this fic, but I can assure you that the first length is nearly over - many reviewers have commented that they can hardly bear any more Ianto torture, and that particular journey is nearly ended. The biggest journey begins after that. But first, thank you for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment. I am also trying to write a short story for the Sex, Wales and Anarchy competition, first prize being your story read out by Gareth David-Lloyd at the event, so that's the reason for the long intervals recently.

Thank you so much, and I hope I meet your expectations.

Chapter 10 | Masterlist | Chapter 12

Served Cold

Chapter 11

Jack ran a hand through his hair and tugged the sheet further up his waist. He wasn't usually one for modesty, but he wasn't feeling particularly good about himself at that precise moment. He cast a quick glance upwards as he clutched the sheet to his chest, taking in the sight of the young man currently pulling on his clothes at the end of the bed.

He shifted uncomfortably, the movement causing his young companion to turn, their eyes meeting briefly before fluttering away. Jack took a breath, his fingers twisting into the bed-sheets nervously.

"Look…" he tried, his tongue running over his lips as he tried to force the words from his brain. "I didn't mean it to be…"

"I know," the young man…no, Alonso, that was his name…tugged his shirt over his shoulders, fingers fumbling ever so slightly as he attempted to fasten the buttons. "I'm not naïve. I travel around a lot; I don't expect much anymore."

Jack sighed.

"I'm sorry; I don't usually…" he bit his lip. "Well, I've been around and I make a point of avoiding that happening. It's not happened before."

A sad smile spread across Alonso's

"Must have been someone special."

"No…I mean…it's complicated..."

Alonso stood up, hauling his trousers to his hips as he met Jack's eyes searchingly.

"Complicated?" he raised an eyebrow, the look in his eyes forbidding Jack from skimming over the question. The immortal tried to tear his eyes away, but that was something swimming in those irises that was incredibly familiar to him, so similar to a look he had seen before. A dull ache ignited in his chest, finally allowing him to lower his head and focus his gaze on the sheets twisting angrily in between his fingers.

"He…" Jack swallowed hard. "He died."

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't know him, so don't be."

"I'm sorry for you."

Jack looked up.

"You are?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

A shrug lifted Jack's shoulders as he continued to finger the cotton of the sheets, his cheeks tugging upwards into a small smile.

"You don't know me."

A sigh ricocheted through the room, startling Jack away from his fixation with the sheets. Alonso stepped forward, settling the collar of his shirt before shucking himself down on the bed, inching upwards so that he could look Jack square in the eye.

"You don't have to know someone to see that they're hurting."

"Didn't realise I was that obvious," a look of disappointment and surprise clouded Jack's features, despite the smile that rested deceptively on his lips. Alonso snorted, a derisive sound that wasn't quite as cutting or sardonic as the man he emulated in other ways – something that sparked a wave of relief to flow over Jack.

"You emit 'my life is broken and meaningless' vibes from a mile off."

"I do?"


"Well, damn," Jack ran a hand through his hair and smiled, leaning back against the pillows. "D'you always go for the dark and depressing type then?"

"I think you'll find it was you going for me."

The smile dropped from Jack's face so quickly it was as if he had been punched in the gut.

"Oh…right…" pushing back the sheet, Jack swung out of bed, suddenly uncaring as to the whether the younger man felt uncomfortable (which to his credit, Jack noted in some subconscious part of his mind, he didn't). Padding quietly to where he'd thrown his clothes haphazardly, he began to sort through them, quickly finding his shirt and trousers and pulling them on as hastily as possible.

Alonso eyed him suspiciously, his fingers clenched at the edge of the bed. Jack shot him a sharp glance.


"Oh, nothing."

Jack hooked his thumbs beneath his braces, hauling them over his shoulders and wincing slightly as they snapped into place.

"Oh nothing, really?"

Alonso shrugged.

"You just seem in an awful hurry to leave all of sudden," a frown creased his features. "What did I say? You were cruising me – and not too well, I'll add."

"I just…" Jack grabbed for his coat, missing it and having to grasp the chair to steady himself. "I have people waiting for me, I need to get back to them."

"Oh. Nice for you."

"Yeah," Jack eventually succeeded in putting on his coat, shoving his hands in his pockets and wrapping the thick, blue material around himself. "You?"

Alonso stood up so that they were basically the same height, leaning on the doorframe of the poky room that they'd managed to stumble into. They could hear the hustle and bustle of the bar below them, joining the creaking of the floorboards and the disconcerting rustle that seemed to emanate from every corner of the…suite.

"I'm tracking for the Penumbra Corps," he nodded his head towards the door, as if somehow that explained everything. "Got called in by the Chulaains to trace a stolen ship."

"Ah," Jack grinned. "A lone wolf – always had a soft spot for you guys at the Penumbra"

"I see that."

"What are you tracking?"

"Well, that's classified, really," Alonso crossed his arms and leant back further against the doorframe, the smirk ever so slightly forced. Jack smiled again, sidling further towards him.

"Which just makes it more exciting…"

The artificial smirk dropped from Alonso's face, and he coughed, lowering his gaze.

"Oh, so now we're not so eager to leave?" he sighed, shuffling his feet slightly uncomfortably on the floor. Jack took the hint and stepped back, widening the gap between them.

"Sorry, I won't…"

"No, don't worry. It's nothing important anyway," he sniffed, his hand reaching out to grip the door handle. "Some nutcase nicked a Chula Ambulance – still can't work out why the hell that is, but they want me to find it. I should probably get going, if I don't want to lose them. I'm quite close, just stopped here to refuel the tanks, so I think I'll…"

He turned to leave, yanking the door towards him and stepping over the threshold. Before he could start down the stairs towards the bar area, however, he felt a strong hand gripping his sleeve, yanking him back through the door. He stumbled against Jack's solid bulk, tensing defensively.

"What the fuck are you…?"

"What did you say?"

"I said, what the fuck are you…?"

"No, before that."

There was a fire burning in Jack's eyes, flames licking along the depths of his irises with such ferocity that Alonso felt himself stumbling back, as far as he could with the fierce grip on his arm.

"I don't…"

"The ambulance!" Jack was shouting now, rearing up to his full height like an angry cobra, spit flying from his lips. "What did you say about the ambulance?"

The young man flinched as the grip tightened, fingernails digging painfully into his flesh.

"I…the Chula Ambulance…they…ouch!...they said it was stolen from them a few months ago. They want me to…ah!...find it for them; they contacted the Penumbra, wanted them to send an agent so they sent me…Jesus, let go!"

He yanked his arm away from Jack's grasping fingers, falling backwards against the wall and cradling his sore bicep to his chest. The older man stumbled back, his eyes boring into the floor as a thousand thoughts flickered through his mind. His eyelids fluttered ever so slightly as he raised his gaze to meet Alonso's indignant, slightly fearful expression.

"I'm sorry…I was just…"

"Nah, I get it," Alonso rubbed his arm. "You pick up a random guy in a bar, fuck him and then assault him. Nice."

"No…I need you to come with me."

Alonso's eyes flashed, a snort of disbelief forcing its way from his windpipe.

"Please," Jack stepped forward, hands up placatingly. "You don't understand, I need you to…"

"Okay, I'll come with you."

Jack's eyes brightened.


"Of course I bloody won't!"

"Okay," Jack breathed in and out again deeply, closing his eyes briefly. "Can I at least explain myself? Please? Just listen to me?"

Alonso folded his arms, eyeing Jack cautiously before nodding his head.

"Alright then. Let's hear it."



The golden clouds had disappeared, but Ianto knew that they were still there. He couldn't see them anymore, but he could feel them buzzing in his ears. Sometimes, it was like they were singing to him, and he would feel his head lolling onto his chest, a smile spreading across his face as they lulled him into unconsciousness. He didn't know how he'd cope without them, how he'd stay together if they hadn't been there, small and unspeaking yet large and loud at the same time.

Sometimes he could even feel them surging around inside him, but then he'd think that maybe that was because he was going crazy.

He thought he'd fended off the craziness well up till that point. But now he wasn't so sure. Sometimes he would catch himself listening to the song of cloud, drifting off in time to the gentle patter that those now-invisible golden beings emitted, and he'd wonder just how much lucidity he had left.

The worst thing was that he could feel something in his mind thinning, could feel the strain that it took for the threads to hold themselves together. And, any day, he knew that the madman was going to turn up with a pair of scissors and sever that one final strand that was holding him together. Or it would just get too much and it would snap – he tried to hold it together, but his hands were bound together and he couldn't reach out to grab them.

He twisted his hands in his leather bonds, wrenching his wrists apart futilely, a single tear falling silently, unfeelingly down his cheek as the material cut into his wrists. Somewhere in his mind, he felt that if he could break free from the bonds then he could catch a hold of the fraying thread within his brain – if he could just break free from the straps, then he wouldn't have to worry about going crazy. He could stop it. He really could.

Eventually, the skin of his wrists sore and chafed by the biting leather, he leant back against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his hands in his lap. His chest ached as he struggled to hold himself in, panic rising from his lungs as he realised that there was nothing he could do. He'd always wanted to fight; even when he'd wanted to give up there'd been something in him that wanted to fight, but now he didn't know how to do that – how could he fight when he could hold onto his own sanity?

A sob forced its way from his lips, and a swallowed hard, biting it back. No crying.

That strand was so thin. So fucking thin, and there was nothing he could do but sit there lamely and wait for it to snap. If he cried…well, if he cried maybe those vibrations would be the thing to break it. And he wasn't ready to go, not yet, he didn't want to go.

He squeezed his eyes shut and went back, remembering anything he could, his knuckles whitening as he clutched at air, grasping at memories that could root him in the past so that he didn't get lost in the present. And it wasn't the good memories he wanted – no, he couldn't remember the good things, not now.

Memories of lying in bed with Jack after fucking, that gentle buzzing and heightened sensitivity, so very similar to the movements of the golden beings flowing through his mind. Remembering working on a case, drinking with Gwen and Tosh and Owen, the thrill of chasing a weevil, of Lisa and her soft voice ringing in his ears…

These memories lulled him, soothed him. He could feel himself sinking with each one. No! He didn't want that! He needed something else, something sharp…

He could remember the pain of a belt on his back, not used often, but enough to ring through in his memories, the physical memory as heightened as the sounds of it snapping against his skin. He held onto that, because that pain was real and it kept him grounded. It had hurt. He remembered that. He could remember Rhi encircling him in her arms, holding him to her chest, right up to those fateful months when his father had deteriorated. Little things like the way she had smelt of talcum powder against him, the way that he hair had tickled the back of his neck; he could remember the first time he had held David, the baby smell so weird and alien and the way he squirmed frightening him. He hadn't held him again for such a long time, because he'd been so damned scared.

He remembered that fear, unlike anything he'd ever felt. It felt good to remember that – like he was back there, rooting himself in his past rather than facing up his future. He wanted to be the person he was, to hold on to the things that defined him. It was a shot in the dark, and he could feel his grip slipping, but it was worth a fucking try.

It was.

His eyes opened as he heard footsteps, his fists clenching harder as he struggled to focus on the memories rather than the imminent future. He could feel the golden clouds playing out a tune in his head, weaving together and dancing across his eyelids, recreating the memories he was so desperate to hold on to. He smiled. They knew what he wanted. These things…nanogenes?...were on his side. It felt good to have a friend.

Suddenly, he decided that if this was going crazy, then he really didn't mind.



The Doctor shoved his hands in pockets, one foot propped against the console to support him as he rocked backwards and forwards. He could see Amy out of the corner of his eye, arms folded stiffly against her chest and feet clacking steadily against the metal floor as she paced. His eyes flicked to her face, sensing the tightening in her brow with the effort of containing herself. The vein in the corner of her forehead began to pulse rapidly, and the Doctor closed his eyes, preparing himself for the onslaught that would follow the dam breaking.

It didn't take long.

"For God's sake, Doctor!" Amy flung her hands into the air, eyes blazing as she rounded on the Doctor fiercely. "We have to go after him. He's been gone for hours."

The Doctor opened his eyes, fixing her with a glare that didn't welcome argument.

"We let him do what he needs to do," he said quietly, firmly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "We don't chase him – we never chase him."

"So you're just going to let him stay out there, to let him go," Amy's bottom lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears. "Is that what you'll do? Will you leave us eventually?"


His whispered response failed to convince her and she spun around, falling into the open arms of Rory, who immediately encircled her in his warmth. The Doctor locked eyes with the young man, nodding slightly in thanks as he rubbed his hands in small circles across her back, soothing her the best he could. Rory smiled a tiny, sad smile, kissing the top of Amy's fiery head before burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

Watching the two of them, the Doctor sighed, before turning back to his propped up position on the console, eyes boring almost accusingly into the door of the Tardis. His fingers curled into a fist in his pocket as he heard Amy's sobbing subside, muffled by the warmth of Rory's coat and morphing into slow, steady breathing; she was hurting and there was nothing he could do. Just like with Jack, and everybody else, there was nothing he could do – that she had Rory was such a special thing, something that she needed, and he was so glad that they were here together.

Suddenly, the doors flung open, light filtering sharply through the doors. Amy spun away from Rory, keeping tight to his side but facing the door as the Doctor threw a hand to his eyes to shield them from the light. A heavy silence filled the room as Jack stepped through, his coat wrapped solidly around him and his eyes refusing to meet the gaze of his companions.

"Jack…" The Doctor stepped forward, stilling abruptly when he saw the quiet young man who followed Jack into the Tardis, his arms wrapped slightly nervously around his body.


The young man looked up accusingly, cautiously, catching the Doctor's eye and somehow noting the silent authority he held.

"Do I know you, sir?"

"Yes! I mean…silly me!" The Doctor whacked his palm against his forehead, grinning manically. "I'm the Doctor…I've just had…y'know, a makeover…" he circled his face with his finger, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Long time no see!"

Alonso cracked a tiny smile, catching the Doctor's hand in his own.

"Doctor? Is it really…?"

"Titanic, Christmas, flying over Buckingham Palace – your boss, Mr Capricorn, had a nasty habit of trying to kill me…and you…"

"Yeah," Alonso scratched the back of his neck shyly, notably brightening as seemed to accept that the strange, gangly man was somehow the Doctor he had once met. "That wasn't the best job I've ever had."

"So!" the Doctor clapped his hands, noting in his mind the distance between Jack and Alonso and swallowing hard. "What brings you here to my humble abode…I mean, of course, my amazing, genius, time-bending magic machine?" he stroked the railing affectionately, following the movement with his hand to distract himself from the tension crackling through the room.

"He…uh…I'm doing some tracking for the Penumbra Corps and…"

"Oh, those devils!" The Doctor clapped Alonso on the shoulder, beaming brightly. "Always had a soft spot for you lot – always pro-active."

"What's the…" Rory broke into the conversation, obviously struggling to hide the confusion that had been building within both of the humans since Jack had joined their crew some months ago. "The Penum…ah…I mean…"

"The Penumbra Corps are a breakaway branch of the Shadow Proclamation – they do the physical work that the Proclamation can't be bothered to do, the brute force and the grunt. Think the A-Team, soldiers of fortune only…not…if you know what I mean."

Amy and Rory looked blank, and the Doctor sighed, turning back to Alonso.

"Anyway…where were we?"

"We were talking about why Alonso is here," Jack grunted, motioning for Alonso to follow him as he strode purposefully towards the console. As he arrived at the centre, Alonso as close to him as he could be without infringing on any personal space, Jack pulled the screen towards him, punching in a few buttons to pull up a map.

"Is this okay for you?"

Alonso nodded.

"I can work with this, if it'll be compatible with my own technology."

"This is Timelord technology, it's compatible with virtually anything," Jack gave a hurried smile and rested an awkward hand on Alonso's shoulder, before turning back and meeting the confused faces of the Doctor and his human companions. The Doctor was the first to step forward, his eyes full of concern and questions.

"Jack, what are you…?"

"Alonso's going to help us," Jack cut in and grinned, the motion not quite meeting his tired eyes as he swept his gaze around the room.

"He's going to help us find Ianto."


Chapter 10 | Masterlist | Chapter 12

Thank you ever so much for reading - I love you all!

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Tags: alonso frame, amy pond, amy/rory, angst, coe fix-it, eleventh doctor, fanfiction, ianto is alive, ianto jones, jack harkness, jack/alonso, jack/ianto, rory williams, served cold, torchwood

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