Fic: Lives Are For Living. (31/40)
Mar. 14th, 2014 08:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silver_sunTitle Lives Are For Living. (31/40)
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 4450(Total posted 87,600 /110,000)
Rating This part teen (adult over all) – see contains below.
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
He'd give Tom another half an hour and then he'd start looking, Andy decided looking out at the slowly brightening sky. Sunset, moon rise, moon set and then sunrise had passed and the feeling that something was wrong had grown, until he'd half convinced himself that if he were to turn on the TV or radio he heard something on the local news that would bring the life they'd made for themselves to a crashing halt.
He was being ridiculous, Andy told himself as he paced between the kitchen and the living room window as he'd done what felt like a million times before since Tom had failed to arrive home from the market. Tom had probably just ended up helping somebody out and had left Rhayader too late to get home before it was time to change. Helping somebody and losing track of time while doing it was a very Tom thing to do. In a few minutes Tom would open the door, and he'd apologise for making him worry, and then relate how he had to helped carry an old lady’s shopping for her when she missed her bus or packed up for some other stall holder who'd been called away on a family emergency. Yes, he told himself, that's what would happen. As for Tom not answering his phone, well he’d probably forgot to charge it again - it wouldn’t be the first time, he shook his head, or even the twentieth for that matter.
Tiredness dragged at him as Andy moved back to the kitchen once more. He'd not been able to sleep, the house seeming unnaturally quiet without Tom there. Not that Tom was normally noisy, it was just the silence of being on his own and the long hours before dawn the feelings of loneliness and loss had seemed like they were going to eat him alive. Even the mournful howl of the wolf that somehow also Tom had been absent, and while hearing it raised the hair on the back of his neck, not hearing it freed his own personal demons, that in the still of the night whispered that Tom was gone, left him or dead, it was all the same, he was alone. He would always be alone and that's what he deserved.
Andy closed his eyes. They felt gritty and sore, but he knew he'd not be able to sleep until he knew Tom was safe or absolute exhaustion drove him to rest. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, seven nineteen. Tom would be home soon, he told himself, hoping that if he repeated it enough that it would somehow make it true. Any minute now he'd walk in and things would be alright again.
There was a knock at the door and Andy froze, hands gripping white knuckled on the back of the chair. There was nobody who'd knock, Tom had a key. Nobody would visit so early in the morning, making the trip up the narrow, muddy track unless they had to, not even the postman did, leaving their post in the box at the end of the lane. The only people who would were the police. Andy closed his eyes again, trying to breath through the growing panic. It was too close to nightmares he'd had, terrible twisted visions of Tom dead or dying, and callous old colleagues being the ones to break the news, dismissive and cruel in the face of his misery.
If he didn't answer the door it wouldn't be real. There was another knock more insistent this time, and Andy swung the chair towards the door, as if he could frighten the bad news away. The lightweight wood splintered as it struck the solid stone of the farmhouse wall. “Go away!” Andy yelled. “Leave me alone!”
“Andy!” Tom's voice came from the other side of the door, scared and breathless like he'd been running. “What's going on in there? Are you okay?”
Relief hit like a tidal wave, and Andy stumbled, sagged against the wall, his legs feeling weak. Part of him wanted to shout at Tom for letting him spend the whole night worrying, the other screamed at him that it was his own fault for getting in a state about nothing, that he was a stupid, pathetic idiot. Tom had probably just lost his bag, that's why he'd not answered his phone and why he'd not got his key. Now he'd broken a perfectly good chair, worried Tom and let himself get in such a state he'd likely be a mess for the rest of the day. No wonder he had to live miles from anywhere, away from normal people, Andy thought bitterly, furious at himself for his own perceived failures. Why would anyone put up with somebody who went to pieces over a knock at the door?
Stress and not having slept in more than twenty four hours wasn't a good recipe for logical thought, he knew, but awareness of it didn’t seem to help in the slightest.
“Andy, will yer please open the door,” Tom called out. “I really don't wanna have to try an' break it down.”
Knowing he was still shaking, but unable to stop himself, Andy opened the door. Tom who'd been leaning against it, trying to hear what was going on, fell inside against him.
Tom was filthy, sweaty and smelt like he'd spent the night in a ditch, but Andy didn't care. Wrapping his arms about him he held him tight, only loosening his grip when Tom gave a yelp of pain. Pulling back, he looked at Tom. He was naked apart from his tatty old coat, the bare skin that he could see spattered with muck and blood, while his feet scratched and bruised from running barefoot. But it was the look in Tom's eyes that was worse, pain and fear and helplessness that made Andy's blood run cold. “What happened?”
“Vampires.” Tom's voice was muffled, as he pressed his face against Andy's shoulder, and he leant against him, taking the weight off his right leg. “They grabbed me and a couple of others and thing, I don't know what it were, an' they shoved us in a cage and...” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “But it's okay now 'cause it's all over, and I'm home, so it's okay and I'm okay.”
He wasn’t, but telling him that probably wouldn’t help. So, although he was terrified he knew the answer already, Andy asked, “What happened to the others?”
Looked up Tom and shook his head. “I don't think it were me. They kept the thing for me, but I don't know. I’m never gonna know. I don't want to have killed anyone.”
Not knowing where Tom was hurt, but certain from his earlier reaction that he was, Andy hugged him carefully. “You wouldn't have. I know you.”
“You don't know the wolf. It destroys,” Tom said, voice cracking. “I always told myself that if I did it, if it happened, if I killed, that'd be it. You can't let a mad dog...”
“No,” Andy snapped, holding him tightly again. “Don't you dare even think it. Just don't. None of this is your fault. None of it.”
Tom gave a muted noise of pain, then his shoulders started to shake and Andy felt the warm, wet spread of tears soaking into his t-shirt. Andy had always been a firm believer in that violence solved nothing, but at the that moment, if he could have found the vampires that done this, he knew he’d have been tempted to do more than arrest them. Not that he could arrest them, he realised, he couldn’t do that anymore, and even if he could, could you actually arrest somebody who was undead?
Tom shifted uncomfortably in his arms, trying to take the weight off one leg, but didn't otherwise make a sound.
“You’re hurt, aren’t you? How bad is it?” Andy said, trying to look down without letting go of him and assess what might be hidden by the coat. “Do you need a doctor?”
“Nah, I just put me foot in a rabbit hole running up here, well that there’s a few scratches,” Tom said still sounding shaken. “There'd be too many questions if we did. I just need some water an' some disinfectant and I'll give it a clean. It'll be alright, me dad showed me how, and then Nina told me how to do it properly.”
“You should probably still sit down.” Not entirely convinced, that Tom was telling him the truth, Andy helped him limp over to the sofa. “Right, I'll just some water and then I'll find first aid box. I think there's some antiseptic cream in there that's still in date.”
Tom nodded, tired but grateful to be off his feet.
“We really need to get that shower put in,” Andy said, trying to focus on something ordinary, as he filled a bowl with warm water. If he did that, if he concentrated on the small stuff, he’d be okay, he told himself. Turning back to Tom he almost dropped the bowl.
Scratches really hadn’t done anything to prepare him for what he saw now that the coat was off. Three bloody gouges were cut into Tom’s skin from his right hip to just above his knee. Two looked relatively shallow, but the third was deeper, bleeding sluggishly again were the scabs had split as Tom had take off his coat. Just as well I’ve not had any breakfast, Andy thought as he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The claw marks, for what else could they be? brought back memories to a room in the police station where so many officers had been reduced to tattered, bloody flesh.
“I can do it by myself,” Tom said, sounding worried, as he got up and limped over to him. “You’re not gonna faint, are yer?”
“No.” Andy opened his eyes.
“No, your not?, or no you don’t know?”
“No,” Andy replied more irritably than he’d meant to. “I’m not that pathetic yet.”
“I weren’t trying to be funny. You’re shaking worse ‘an I am,” Tom said taking the bowl from him and putting it on the coffee table. “What were going on in here?” He nodded towards the broken chair.
Embarrassed at what he saw as his own stupid overreaction, Andy said quietly, “Me thinking too much. When you didn’t come home…”
“You thought I’d run off and left yer?” Tom interrupted, sounding hurt. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“I course I didn’t. I thought you were hurt or dead, and I’d never see you again.” Andy picked up a cloth out of the bowl he’d got to help clean the cuts on Tom’s leg. “When you knocked, I thought you were the police, that they’d come to tell me that you…” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “That you were…”
“It weren’t.” Tom took hold of his hand. “And I’m okay” He looked down at his leg. “Well mostly. You know what? I could really do with is a cuppa. Why don’t you go make us one?”
Torn between the that that looking too closely at the claw marks made him feel ill, but leaving Tom to deal with it by himself made him feel like the worse person in the world. Somedays he felt like his old self and on others there seemed to be nothing left but mind numbing doubts and the overwhelming feeling that people would be so much better if he wasn’t around. Since Tom had arrive there had been less of the bad days, but in the last couple of months, since finding out his secret there had been more again.
“I mean it,” Tom said when Andy hadn’t replied. “I ain’t had anything since last night, and you always make better tea ‘an me. So could yer?”
Andy nodded, grateful beyond words that Tom was so understanding. He still felt sick, cold and wobbly, but able for now to function. Just breathe and don’t think, Andy told himself, just get through the next few minutes. Live on the good days and survive the bad ones, and try if you could, although sometimes climbing Everest would have been easier, to remember that the good ones would eventually come again.
“Do want anything to eat?” Andy asked, carefully not looking at his leg.
“Not really, but I should I ‘spose. I didn’t eat last night.” Tom shivered. “Just as well an’ all, being all there was were...well it were nothing I’d wanna eat.”
"I'll do sandwiches," Andy said, reasonably sure that they were easy enough that he couldn't mess then up, but would occupy him enough that he could avoid thinking about anything more complex than why resealable packets of cheese rarely worked like they were supposed to.
Andy turned back to Tom, who seemingly given up on his leg which looked no cleaner than it had before and was now trying to wipe the grime off the rest of him. See two, small round burns on his chest, Andy swallowed hard, trying not to imagine them being made with a cigarette.
Seeing that he was staring, Tom said, sounding angry rather than upset, “It were a taser, that’s how they got me. I were going to buy us fish and chips and then call you to pick me up, and then they showed up. She said bunch of stuff, about how I were a dog, then they tasered me and shoved me in a van, and took me out some old farm." He shook his head, hands balling into fists. "They'd got these cages an' stuff, an a mircophone and seats and stuff.They’d bin doing it for months, taking people and werewolves or them things and making them fight. Making then them kill each other for fun. An’ they’ll keep doin’ it and people’ll keep dyin’. I shouldn't have run after they’d done with me. I should stayed an’ stopped them. It’s what me dad would have done. He would have staked ‘em all, and...”
“Stop,” Andy said, worried by how worked up Tom was getting. “If they’re as dangerous as you say they then they could have kill you.”
“Not if I’d bin smart about it and got them one at a time like he taught me.”
“They could still have got lucky, they have only needed to do it once.” Andy shivered, thankful that Tom had run, put his own life first for what seemed like the first time. “It’s not your job to stop them, there must be…”
“What some super secret organisation that go round dealing’ with weird stuff? What makes yer think they wouldn’t have thought werewolves weren't just as bad? No, there ain't nobody else gonna do it,” Tom said, sounding more bitter than Andy had ever heard him. “Why’d yer think me and me dad did it all those years? It weren’t for fun, were it? Me dad knew what being a cage like that were like, he were in one more ‘an once. He said it changed you.”
Andy's blood ran cold. “It could happen again?”
“The vampires know I’m here, well they know I go in to Rhayader work and shop and stuff. They were waiting for me, it weren't just chance. So either I run and hide until the next time they find me, or I stop them or...well they stop me,” Tom said, not looking at him.
Shouting and raging at the unfairness of it all wouldn't help, but for a moment that was all Andy wanted to do. Perhaps they could both run together, they could keep moving, then they wouldn't be found. Yet that would be dragging Tom back to his childhood life of never staying anywhere long enough to settle down and really start to live. He couldn't do that to him. But how could they fight vampires and things with claws? They needed help and there really was only one place that might be be able to help with vampires. Torchwood.
Maybe the thing really was a weevil, Andy thought miserably. That would be just his luck that it would be his past that had come back rip into the life they’d made together to shreds. He closed his eyes. He remembered standing on a cold, windy rooftop, with Rhys wondering where the hordes of creatures had gone. Maybe this all came back to being his fault somehow, he should have made sure that they really were gone. Uncertain whether he wanted to know the answer or not Andy said, “Tell me about the thing.”
“Whatdya want to know about that for?” Tom said, confused. “It were horrible, and I ain’t seen nothing like it before. An’ I don’t want to again.”
“I think I might know what it is.”
“There ain't much to tell, it had teeth an’ claws, and this long wrinkly face, and it had on a stinky old overall, boiler suit thing.” Tom paused, and Andy could almost heard him frown. “That’s about it. It really did stink though, like it’d been stuck down the bog or something.”
“It’s called a weevil,” Andy said wishing now that he hadn't asked. “We had them in Cardiff. I saw them, a couple of years ago, dozens of them. They killed...um...well, some people, police officers, I knew some of them. Not like really good friends, but still. I saw what they could do.”
Tom took hold of his hand, holding it tight like he was never planning on letting it go. “I’m sorry.”
Andy nodded, fighting to stay calm and knowing it was likely to a losing battle. “But it means there’s somebody we can call. She used to work with me, but then she went to work for this organisation, doing secret bloody weird stuff, catching aliens. She could help us.”
“Aliens?” Tom looked at him wide eyed with something almost like excitement. “What like that Men in Black film with cockroach man and talking dog.”
“I told you Cardiff was weird,” Andy replied. “But no cockroach men or talking dogs, just this big black 4x4 and this American, well I think he was anyway, who used to flirt with everybody, seemed to think he could do what he like.”
“How much do you trust them?” Tom asked, sound less than happy with what he had just heard. "'cause there’s no way of doing this without letting them know what I am.”
“It’s not really a them anymore,” Andy said, remembering the last time he’d seen them all together. It seemed so long ago now. “It’s only Gwen now, but she knows other people and I’m sure she could get them to do something without them having to know the whole story.”
Tom looked at him scared and hopeful at the same time. “You really sure about this?”
Andy worried his lip between his teeth, not seeing any other viable options open to them."As sure as I can be.”
“Are you gonna call her now?” Tom said abandoning his attempt at cleaning himself up in favour of drinking his tea.
“Yes, sooner we do something the better, right?” Picking up his phone Andy paused. What was he going to say? 'Hi, Gwen. You know I'm with Tom. Well he's a werewolf, but don't worry he's really sweet once you get to know him, only he can seem a bit strange sometimes on account of him being raised in the woods by the man who killed his parents.' Yeah, that would go down well. Not.
He ran a his hand through his hair, knowing that if he thought about it much more he'd end up talking himself out of it. “Hi, Gwen. It’s Andy, are you somewhere you can talk?”
There was a brief pause and then Gwen asked, “What’s happened? You sound awful.”
“Are you somewhere you can talk?” Andy asked again.
“It’s ten past eight on a Sunday morning, I’m at home,” Gwen replied sounding worried. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, sort of, mostly. Tom was grabbed by…” he stopped, knowing that he’d reached the point where it was either tell her the truth or bottle the attempt entirely.
“Andy are you still there? Is he alright? Are you?” Gwen asked. “Seriously whatever you need I’m here. Have you called the police?”
“No, I can’t. Because it’s weevils and vampires and...and you've got to promise me you won’t do anything to Tom if I tell you anything else. Gwen, please.”
“What did he do? If he’s hurt a weevil or something, I’m not going to blame him. I know what those things can do.”
“And you think I don’t?” Andy said angrily, although he knew Gwen hadn’t meant it badly. “Look just promise you won’t do anything to him or oh I don’t know, just forget I called.”
“You know I can’ do that. I worry about about you. Look as long as he’s not hurt you, then alright I promise.”
“He’d never hurt me,” Andy said shocked that she could think such a thing. “Just remember he’s a nice bloke, the best and I love him.”
“Andy, just tell me.”
“He’s a werewolf. And there are vampires too and they catch werewolves, just grab them off the street and people too and they lock them in cage and make the fight. And they made Tom fight a weevil and he’s hurt, but he got away and I don’t know what to do, and I just want it all to stop, so we can be happy again.” Andy stopped breathless and wondering whether anything that he’d said had been intelligible.
There was silence at the other end of the phone and Andy’s heart sank. They had money, he told himself, they could leave the farm behind, they could find somewhere that both the vampires and Torchwood couldn't find them.
“And I thought my life was weird,” Gwen said eventually. “Look if you trust Tom, then I guess I’ll have to too. As for the rest we can talk about it when I get there. Just give me the direction and I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Rhys is taking Ceri over to visiting his parents in an hour or so, I don’t think Brenda will mind too much if I don’t come.” Gwen sounded relieved rather than disappointed at not getting to spend Sunday lunch with her mother-in-law. After a pause she said, “How are you and Tom? Really, I mean?”
“I love him,” Andy replied, knowing that Tom could hear every word he said. “None of this weird stuff changes that.”
“I meant about him being grabbed. You said he was hurt, were you there? Are you alright?”
“I wasn't there,” Andy replied, wondering if perhaps he had been whether the vampires wouldn't have taken Tom or whether they would have just got both of them and tried to feed them to a weevil. “Tom got clawed by the weevil. Not too deep, he says he’d fine. It’s a bit of mess, but we've done the best we can. He said they tasered him as well.”
“You should really get him to go to a doctor and get him to give him some antibiotics or something, you never know where the weevil has been. Although the sewer is pretty good guess.”
“And how do we explain it?” Andy said, “Tell them he accidentally annoyed a lion while getting the morning paper?"
“I suppose there is that,” Gwen replied. “Look I’ll call somebody I know, she’s a doctor. I’ll get her to send a prescription through to your nearest chemist with Sunday opening.”
“You can do that?” Andy thought for a moment then said. “Actually why am I surprised Torchwood always did whatever they liked. Nothing's changed there then.”
“Hey, don’t you get snappy with me,” Gwen said, sounding more concerned than annoyed. “You called me for help remember - who else are you going to call for bloody weird stuff like this otherwise?”
Andy sighed. “I know. I’m just…”
“Totally freaked out?” Gwen said sympathetically. “When Rhys found out what we did and he got shot-”
“Bloody hell, is he okay?”
“Yes, it was months, years ago, back before we got married. What I’m trying to say is don’t be too hard on yourself. What you can deal with when it’s work and a stranger is different than when it’s somebody you love. It’s hard, so don’t make it any worse by blaming yourself.”
Easier said than done, Andy thought, certain that he wasn't going to be able to manage it. “Right, so I’ll email you the direction from Rhayader, you should be able to find there okay.”
“I mean it,” Gwen said. “If you go blaming yourself you’ll end up feeling so bad that you’ll be no use to anyone."
"Not like I am anyway," Andy replied before he could stop himself.
"I'll be there as as soon as I can," Gwen said, sounding like she wished she could get there immediately. "So look after yourself and that man of yours, and we'll sort this out. I promise."
“I’ll see you soon then,” Andy said ending the call.
From behind him on the sofa Tom asked, "So now what do we do?"
Crawl into bed and hide from the world, Andy thought, turning back to face him. That would solve nothing though. He’d be letting everybody down if he did. He just had to hold it all together a bit long. He picked up his own mug of tea. “We should eat and then get you cleaned up.”
Just over an hour and a half later, there was the rumble of a high powered engine outside and Andy looked out of the window to see a sleek, new black range rover pull up at the edge of the farmyard.
"Is that her?" Tom asked, trying to look without getting up.
Wishing that Tom were rather more dressed than just wearing underwear and a bandage round his thigh, Andy nodded and went to open the door.
Standing behind Gwen was Jack and... Andy stared at Ianto for a moment, mind rebelling at the fact that a person who he knew to be dead was now standing in front of him looking like he’d just come out of a business meeting, all smart suit and holding a high end laptop. Then he sighed and shook his head. “You know what? I've given up on being surprised by anything anymore. Do any of you want a cup of tea.”
Part 32 http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/230732.html
Fandoms Torchwood/Being Human crossover fic.
Characters/pairings Andy Davidson/Tom McNair. Other Torchwood and Being Human characters will appear later on.
Word count: This part 4450(Total posted 87,600 /110,000)
Rating This part teen (adult over all) – see contains below.
Contains Mentions of depression/anxiety. Mentions of past canon major character death. Mention of minor character death – not canon. In later parts canon level violence, graphic sex, Andy's homophobic mother. Spoilers for Being Human (UK version) up to series 5 episode 3, and for Torchwood up to Children of Earth.
A/N: Crossover with Being Human. Technically a CoE fix it as it's set in the same 'verse as Finding Ways To Smile Again (although that isn't apparent until about 2/3 the way through the story). Follows on from Break and Breakaway from Tom McNair's POV – which is where it breaks from Being Human canon.
Summary
After being pushed out of the police force following the events of Children of Earth, Andy Davidson tries to build a new life for himself in the deep in the Welsh countryside.
Tom McNair walked out off his old life after realising it wasn't what he needed.
A chance meeting would take their lives in directions that they had never expected and bring them love that they'd not thought they'd find.
Starts here: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/214504.html
He'd give Tom another half an hour and then he'd start looking, Andy decided looking out at the slowly brightening sky. Sunset, moon rise, moon set and then sunrise had passed and the feeling that something was wrong had grown, until he'd half convinced himself that if he were to turn on the TV or radio he heard something on the local news that would bring the life they'd made for themselves to a crashing halt.
He was being ridiculous, Andy told himself as he paced between the kitchen and the living room window as he'd done what felt like a million times before since Tom had failed to arrive home from the market. Tom had probably just ended up helping somebody out and had left Rhayader too late to get home before it was time to change. Helping somebody and losing track of time while doing it was a very Tom thing to do. In a few minutes Tom would open the door, and he'd apologise for making him worry, and then relate how he had to helped carry an old lady’s shopping for her when she missed her bus or packed up for some other stall holder who'd been called away on a family emergency. Yes, he told himself, that's what would happen. As for Tom not answering his phone, well he’d probably forgot to charge it again - it wouldn’t be the first time, he shook his head, or even the twentieth for that matter.
Tiredness dragged at him as Andy moved back to the kitchen once more. He'd not been able to sleep, the house seeming unnaturally quiet without Tom there. Not that Tom was normally noisy, it was just the silence of being on his own and the long hours before dawn the feelings of loneliness and loss had seemed like they were going to eat him alive. Even the mournful howl of the wolf that somehow also Tom had been absent, and while hearing it raised the hair on the back of his neck, not hearing it freed his own personal demons, that in the still of the night whispered that Tom was gone, left him or dead, it was all the same, he was alone. He would always be alone and that's what he deserved.
Andy closed his eyes. They felt gritty and sore, but he knew he'd not be able to sleep until he knew Tom was safe or absolute exhaustion drove him to rest. He opened his eyes and looked at the clock on the kitchen wall, seven nineteen. Tom would be home soon, he told himself, hoping that if he repeated it enough that it would somehow make it true. Any minute now he'd walk in and things would be alright again.
There was a knock at the door and Andy froze, hands gripping white knuckled on the back of the chair. There was nobody who'd knock, Tom had a key. Nobody would visit so early in the morning, making the trip up the narrow, muddy track unless they had to, not even the postman did, leaving their post in the box at the end of the lane. The only people who would were the police. Andy closed his eyes again, trying to breath through the growing panic. It was too close to nightmares he'd had, terrible twisted visions of Tom dead or dying, and callous old colleagues being the ones to break the news, dismissive and cruel in the face of his misery.
If he didn't answer the door it wouldn't be real. There was another knock more insistent this time, and Andy swung the chair towards the door, as if he could frighten the bad news away. The lightweight wood splintered as it struck the solid stone of the farmhouse wall. “Go away!” Andy yelled. “Leave me alone!”
“Andy!” Tom's voice came from the other side of the door, scared and breathless like he'd been running. “What's going on in there? Are you okay?”
Relief hit like a tidal wave, and Andy stumbled, sagged against the wall, his legs feeling weak. Part of him wanted to shout at Tom for letting him spend the whole night worrying, the other screamed at him that it was his own fault for getting in a state about nothing, that he was a stupid, pathetic idiot. Tom had probably just lost his bag, that's why he'd not answered his phone and why he'd not got his key. Now he'd broken a perfectly good chair, worried Tom and let himself get in such a state he'd likely be a mess for the rest of the day. No wonder he had to live miles from anywhere, away from normal people, Andy thought bitterly, furious at himself for his own perceived failures. Why would anyone put up with somebody who went to pieces over a knock at the door?
Stress and not having slept in more than twenty four hours wasn't a good recipe for logical thought, he knew, but awareness of it didn’t seem to help in the slightest.
“Andy, will yer please open the door,” Tom called out. “I really don't wanna have to try an' break it down.”
Knowing he was still shaking, but unable to stop himself, Andy opened the door. Tom who'd been leaning against it, trying to hear what was going on, fell inside against him.
Tom was filthy, sweaty and smelt like he'd spent the night in a ditch, but Andy didn't care. Wrapping his arms about him he held him tight, only loosening his grip when Tom gave a yelp of pain. Pulling back, he looked at Tom. He was naked apart from his tatty old coat, the bare skin that he could see spattered with muck and blood, while his feet scratched and bruised from running barefoot. But it was the look in Tom's eyes that was worse, pain and fear and helplessness that made Andy's blood run cold. “What happened?”
“Vampires.” Tom's voice was muffled, as he pressed his face against Andy's shoulder, and he leant against him, taking the weight off his right leg. “They grabbed me and a couple of others and thing, I don't know what it were, an' they shoved us in a cage and...” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “But it's okay now 'cause it's all over, and I'm home, so it's okay and I'm okay.”
He wasn’t, but telling him that probably wouldn’t help. So, although he was terrified he knew the answer already, Andy asked, “What happened to the others?”
Looked up Tom and shook his head. “I don't think it were me. They kept the thing for me, but I don't know. I’m never gonna know. I don't want to have killed anyone.”
Not knowing where Tom was hurt, but certain from his earlier reaction that he was, Andy hugged him carefully. “You wouldn't have. I know you.”
“You don't know the wolf. It destroys,” Tom said, voice cracking. “I always told myself that if I did it, if it happened, if I killed, that'd be it. You can't let a mad dog...”
“No,” Andy snapped, holding him tightly again. “Don't you dare even think it. Just don't. None of this is your fault. None of it.”
Tom gave a muted noise of pain, then his shoulders started to shake and Andy felt the warm, wet spread of tears soaking into his t-shirt. Andy had always been a firm believer in that violence solved nothing, but at the that moment, if he could have found the vampires that done this, he knew he’d have been tempted to do more than arrest them. Not that he could arrest them, he realised, he couldn’t do that anymore, and even if he could, could you actually arrest somebody who was undead?
Tom shifted uncomfortably in his arms, trying to take the weight off one leg, but didn't otherwise make a sound.
“You’re hurt, aren’t you? How bad is it?” Andy said, trying to look down without letting go of him and assess what might be hidden by the coat. “Do you need a doctor?”
“Nah, I just put me foot in a rabbit hole running up here, well that there’s a few scratches,” Tom said still sounding shaken. “There'd be too many questions if we did. I just need some water an' some disinfectant and I'll give it a clean. It'll be alright, me dad showed me how, and then Nina told me how to do it properly.”
“You should probably still sit down.” Not entirely convinced, that Tom was telling him the truth, Andy helped him limp over to the sofa. “Right, I'll just some water and then I'll find first aid box. I think there's some antiseptic cream in there that's still in date.”
Tom nodded, tired but grateful to be off his feet.
“We really need to get that shower put in,” Andy said, trying to focus on something ordinary, as he filled a bowl with warm water. If he did that, if he concentrated on the small stuff, he’d be okay, he told himself. Turning back to Tom he almost dropped the bowl.
Scratches really hadn’t done anything to prepare him for what he saw now that the coat was off. Three bloody gouges were cut into Tom’s skin from his right hip to just above his knee. Two looked relatively shallow, but the third was deeper, bleeding sluggishly again were the scabs had split as Tom had take off his coat. Just as well I’ve not had any breakfast, Andy thought as he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The claw marks, for what else could they be? brought back memories to a room in the police station where so many officers had been reduced to tattered, bloody flesh.
“I can do it by myself,” Tom said, sounding worried, as he got up and limped over to him. “You’re not gonna faint, are yer?”
“No.” Andy opened his eyes.
“No, your not?, or no you don’t know?”
“No,” Andy replied more irritably than he’d meant to. “I’m not that pathetic yet.”
“I weren’t trying to be funny. You’re shaking worse ‘an I am,” Tom said taking the bowl from him and putting it on the coffee table. “What were going on in here?” He nodded towards the broken chair.
Embarrassed at what he saw as his own stupid overreaction, Andy said quietly, “Me thinking too much. When you didn’t come home…”
“You thought I’d run off and left yer?” Tom interrupted, sounding hurt. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“I course I didn’t. I thought you were hurt or dead, and I’d never see you again.” Andy picked up a cloth out of the bowl he’d got to help clean the cuts on Tom’s leg. “When you knocked, I thought you were the police, that they’d come to tell me that you…” He stopped and took a shaky breath. “That you were…”
“It weren’t.” Tom took hold of his hand. “And I’m okay” He looked down at his leg. “Well mostly. You know what? I could really do with is a cuppa. Why don’t you go make us one?”
Torn between the that that looking too closely at the claw marks made him feel ill, but leaving Tom to deal with it by himself made him feel like the worse person in the world. Somedays he felt like his old self and on others there seemed to be nothing left but mind numbing doubts and the overwhelming feeling that people would be so much better if he wasn’t around. Since Tom had arrive there had been less of the bad days, but in the last couple of months, since finding out his secret there had been more again.
“I mean it,” Tom said when Andy hadn’t replied. “I ain’t had anything since last night, and you always make better tea ‘an me. So could yer?”
Andy nodded, grateful beyond words that Tom was so understanding. He still felt sick, cold and wobbly, but able for now to function. Just breathe and don’t think, Andy told himself, just get through the next few minutes. Live on the good days and survive the bad ones, and try if you could, although sometimes climbing Everest would have been easier, to remember that the good ones would eventually come again.
“Do want anything to eat?” Andy asked, carefully not looking at his leg.
“Not really, but I should I ‘spose. I didn’t eat last night.” Tom shivered. “Just as well an’ all, being all there was were...well it were nothing I’d wanna eat.”
"I'll do sandwiches," Andy said, reasonably sure that they were easy enough that he couldn't mess then up, but would occupy him enough that he could avoid thinking about anything more complex than why resealable packets of cheese rarely worked like they were supposed to.
Andy turned back to Tom, who seemingly given up on his leg which looked no cleaner than it had before and was now trying to wipe the grime off the rest of him. See two, small round burns on his chest, Andy swallowed hard, trying not to imagine them being made with a cigarette.
Seeing that he was staring, Tom said, sounding angry rather than upset, “It were a taser, that’s how they got me. I were going to buy us fish and chips and then call you to pick me up, and then they showed up. She said bunch of stuff, about how I were a dog, then they tasered me and shoved me in a van, and took me out some old farm." He shook his head, hands balling into fists. "They'd got these cages an' stuff, an a mircophone and seats and stuff.They’d bin doing it for months, taking people and werewolves or them things and making them fight. Making then them kill each other for fun. An’ they’ll keep doin’ it and people’ll keep dyin’. I shouldn't have run after they’d done with me. I should stayed an’ stopped them. It’s what me dad would have done. He would have staked ‘em all, and...”
“Stop,” Andy said, worried by how worked up Tom was getting. “If they’re as dangerous as you say they then they could have kill you.”
“Not if I’d bin smart about it and got them one at a time like he taught me.”
“They could still have got lucky, they have only needed to do it once.” Andy shivered, thankful that Tom had run, put his own life first for what seemed like the first time. “It’s not your job to stop them, there must be…”
“What some super secret organisation that go round dealing’ with weird stuff? What makes yer think they wouldn’t have thought werewolves weren't just as bad? No, there ain't nobody else gonna do it,” Tom said, sounding more bitter than Andy had ever heard him. “Why’d yer think me and me dad did it all those years? It weren’t for fun, were it? Me dad knew what being a cage like that were like, he were in one more ‘an once. He said it changed you.”
Andy's blood ran cold. “It could happen again?”
“The vampires know I’m here, well they know I go in to Rhayader work and shop and stuff. They were waiting for me, it weren't just chance. So either I run and hide until the next time they find me, or I stop them or...well they stop me,” Tom said, not looking at him.
Shouting and raging at the unfairness of it all wouldn't help, but for a moment that was all Andy wanted to do. Perhaps they could both run together, they could keep moving, then they wouldn't be found. Yet that would be dragging Tom back to his childhood life of never staying anywhere long enough to settle down and really start to live. He couldn't do that to him. But how could they fight vampires and things with claws? They needed help and there really was only one place that might be be able to help with vampires. Torchwood.
Maybe the thing really was a weevil, Andy thought miserably. That would be just his luck that it would be his past that had come back rip into the life they’d made together to shreds. He closed his eyes. He remembered standing on a cold, windy rooftop, with Rhys wondering where the hordes of creatures had gone. Maybe this all came back to being his fault somehow, he should have made sure that they really were gone. Uncertain whether he wanted to know the answer or not Andy said, “Tell me about the thing.”
“Whatdya want to know about that for?” Tom said, confused. “It were horrible, and I ain’t seen nothing like it before. An’ I don’t want to again.”
“I think I might know what it is.”
“There ain't much to tell, it had teeth an’ claws, and this long wrinkly face, and it had on a stinky old overall, boiler suit thing.” Tom paused, and Andy could almost heard him frown. “That’s about it. It really did stink though, like it’d been stuck down the bog or something.”
“It’s called a weevil,” Andy said wishing now that he hadn't asked. “We had them in Cardiff. I saw them, a couple of years ago, dozens of them. They killed...um...well, some people, police officers, I knew some of them. Not like really good friends, but still. I saw what they could do.”
Tom took hold of his hand, holding it tight like he was never planning on letting it go. “I’m sorry.”
Andy nodded, fighting to stay calm and knowing it was likely to a losing battle. “But it means there’s somebody we can call. She used to work with me, but then she went to work for this organisation, doing secret bloody weird stuff, catching aliens. She could help us.”
“Aliens?” Tom looked at him wide eyed with something almost like excitement. “What like that Men in Black film with cockroach man and talking dog.”
“I told you Cardiff was weird,” Andy replied. “But no cockroach men or talking dogs, just this big black 4x4 and this American, well I think he was anyway, who used to flirt with everybody, seemed to think he could do what he like.”
“How much do you trust them?” Tom asked, sound less than happy with what he had just heard. "'cause there’s no way of doing this without letting them know what I am.”
“It’s not really a them anymore,” Andy said, remembering the last time he’d seen them all together. It seemed so long ago now. “It’s only Gwen now, but she knows other people and I’m sure she could get them to do something without them having to know the whole story.”
Tom looked at him scared and hopeful at the same time. “You really sure about this?”
Andy worried his lip between his teeth, not seeing any other viable options open to them."As sure as I can be.”
“Are you gonna call her now?” Tom said abandoning his attempt at cleaning himself up in favour of drinking his tea.
“Yes, sooner we do something the better, right?” Picking up his phone Andy paused. What was he going to say? 'Hi, Gwen. You know I'm with Tom. Well he's a werewolf, but don't worry he's really sweet once you get to know him, only he can seem a bit strange sometimes on account of him being raised in the woods by the man who killed his parents.' Yeah, that would go down well. Not.
He ran a his hand through his hair, knowing that if he thought about it much more he'd end up talking himself out of it. “Hi, Gwen. It’s Andy, are you somewhere you can talk?”
There was a brief pause and then Gwen asked, “What’s happened? You sound awful.”
“Are you somewhere you can talk?” Andy asked again.
“It’s ten past eight on a Sunday morning, I’m at home,” Gwen replied sounding worried. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, sort of, mostly. Tom was grabbed by…” he stopped, knowing that he’d reached the point where it was either tell her the truth or bottle the attempt entirely.
“Andy are you still there? Is he alright? Are you?” Gwen asked. “Seriously whatever you need I’m here. Have you called the police?”
“No, I can’t. Because it’s weevils and vampires and...and you've got to promise me you won’t do anything to Tom if I tell you anything else. Gwen, please.”
“What did he do? If he’s hurt a weevil or something, I’m not going to blame him. I know what those things can do.”
“And you think I don’t?” Andy said angrily, although he knew Gwen hadn’t meant it badly. “Look just promise you won’t do anything to him or oh I don’t know, just forget I called.”
“You know I can’ do that. I worry about about you. Look as long as he’s not hurt you, then alright I promise.”
“He’d never hurt me,” Andy said shocked that she could think such a thing. “Just remember he’s a nice bloke, the best and I love him.”
“Andy, just tell me.”
“He’s a werewolf. And there are vampires too and they catch werewolves, just grab them off the street and people too and they lock them in cage and make the fight. And they made Tom fight a weevil and he’s hurt, but he got away and I don’t know what to do, and I just want it all to stop, so we can be happy again.” Andy stopped breathless and wondering whether anything that he’d said had been intelligible.
There was silence at the other end of the phone and Andy’s heart sank. They had money, he told himself, they could leave the farm behind, they could find somewhere that both the vampires and Torchwood couldn't find them.
“And I thought my life was weird,” Gwen said eventually. “Look if you trust Tom, then I guess I’ll have to too. As for the rest we can talk about it when I get there. Just give me the direction and I’ll be there in a couple of hours. Rhys is taking Ceri over to visiting his parents in an hour or so, I don’t think Brenda will mind too much if I don’t come.” Gwen sounded relieved rather than disappointed at not getting to spend Sunday lunch with her mother-in-law. After a pause she said, “How are you and Tom? Really, I mean?”
“I love him,” Andy replied, knowing that Tom could hear every word he said. “None of this weird stuff changes that.”
“I meant about him being grabbed. You said he was hurt, were you there? Are you alright?”
“I wasn't there,” Andy replied, wondering if perhaps he had been whether the vampires wouldn't have taken Tom or whether they would have just got both of them and tried to feed them to a weevil. “Tom got clawed by the weevil. Not too deep, he says he’d fine. It’s a bit of mess, but we've done the best we can. He said they tasered him as well.”
“You should really get him to go to a doctor and get him to give him some antibiotics or something, you never know where the weevil has been. Although the sewer is pretty good guess.”
“And how do we explain it?” Andy said, “Tell them he accidentally annoyed a lion while getting the morning paper?"
“I suppose there is that,” Gwen replied. “Look I’ll call somebody I know, she’s a doctor. I’ll get her to send a prescription through to your nearest chemist with Sunday opening.”
“You can do that?” Andy thought for a moment then said. “Actually why am I surprised Torchwood always did whatever they liked. Nothing's changed there then.”
“Hey, don’t you get snappy with me,” Gwen said, sounding more concerned than annoyed. “You called me for help remember - who else are you going to call for bloody weird stuff like this otherwise?”
Andy sighed. “I know. I’m just…”
“Totally freaked out?” Gwen said sympathetically. “When Rhys found out what we did and he got shot-”
“Bloody hell, is he okay?”
“Yes, it was months, years ago, back before we got married. What I’m trying to say is don’t be too hard on yourself. What you can deal with when it’s work and a stranger is different than when it’s somebody you love. It’s hard, so don’t make it any worse by blaming yourself.”
Easier said than done, Andy thought, certain that he wasn't going to be able to manage it. “Right, so I’ll email you the direction from Rhayader, you should be able to find there okay.”
“I mean it,” Gwen said. “If you go blaming yourself you’ll end up feeling so bad that you’ll be no use to anyone."
"Not like I am anyway," Andy replied before he could stop himself.
"I'll be there as as soon as I can," Gwen said, sounding like she wished she could get there immediately. "So look after yourself and that man of yours, and we'll sort this out. I promise."
“I’ll see you soon then,” Andy said ending the call.
From behind him on the sofa Tom asked, "So now what do we do?"
Crawl into bed and hide from the world, Andy thought, turning back to face him. That would solve nothing though. He’d be letting everybody down if he did. He just had to hold it all together a bit long. He picked up his own mug of tea. “We should eat and then get you cleaned up.”
Just over an hour and a half later, there was the rumble of a high powered engine outside and Andy looked out of the window to see a sleek, new black range rover pull up at the edge of the farmyard.
"Is that her?" Tom asked, trying to look without getting up.
Wishing that Tom were rather more dressed than just wearing underwear and a bandage round his thigh, Andy nodded and went to open the door.
Standing behind Gwen was Jack and... Andy stared at Ianto for a moment, mind rebelling at the fact that a person who he knew to be dead was now standing in front of him looking like he’d just come out of a business meeting, all smart suit and holding a high end laptop. Then he sighed and shook his head. “You know what? I've given up on being surprised by anything anymore. Do any of you want a cup of tea.”
Part 32 http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/230732.html
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Date: 2014-03-15 11:52 am (UTC)Ah, the black Torchwoodmobile :D Yay!
Poor Andy, but this was a brilliant chapter. Good job Tom is so kickass. :D
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Date: 2014-03-15 12:33 pm (UTC)Not good times for Andy, but surviving after vampires and horrible things has been Tom's life. Looking forward to writing him talking about his vampire killing past, how blase he is about it in the next part.
Still hoping for a tomorrow posting date for it, but between using my writing time last night to write and post a short fic about Tom's dad, McNair, and the fact that I now seem to have tonsilitis again - seem to get it about one a year, every year - it might get delayed a bit, but since half of it it already written in a notebook I'm hoping just having to type up will help.
Volume 009, Issue 050
Date: 2014-03-17 05:54 pm (UTC)