A Year Out of Time - part 3

[silver_sun]

A Year Out of Time - part 3

part one
part two


After three more nights of walking, and little more than thirty miles travelled since Clevedon, it’s obvious that their original estimate of five to six days to reach Southampton is going to be more like ten to eleven days at their current speed.

Taking a car is still out of the question as they’ve seen check points on many of the roads they’ve seen as they carefully make their way across country using footpaths and farm tracks wherever possible.

The decision to travel by day is taken after Ianto trips in the dark, his foot catching in a rabbit burrow as they cross a field. There’s no damage done, but Andy knows that it had just been luck that Ianto hadn’t ended up with a sprained or broken ankle.

Travelling by day, though, has its own problems, and the amount of time they have to spend hiding from passing Toclafane or having to detour from their planned route to avoid being seen increases dramatically.

Avoiding towns and villages adds miles to their route as well, and brings with it the added problem that their supplies, which they’d packed for a journey lasting about a week, start to run low.

There are opportunities to find food though, and despite the fact that Andy would be first to admit that living off the land isn’t something that he’s remotely skilled in, abandoned allotments and fields provide fruit and vegetables that even he can identify.

They are just over halfway to Southampton, crossing from Somerset into Hampshire, when they find a deserted farm, the rusted and crumbling outbuildings suggesting that it had probably fallen out of use well before the alien invasion. The overgrown cottage garden does yield a few fresh vegetables to supplement their dwindling supplies.

There are blackberries as well, growing wild in hedge at the edge of pond by the side of one of the farm buildings. Taking off his pack and handing it to Ianto, Andy carefully makes his way around the overgrown edge of the pond.

The bank crumbles without warning, and Andy falls into to the water with a startled shout, the stagnant water rushing into in his mouth.

A moment later Ianto is dragging him out, laying him down on the bank, and rolling him into the recovery position.

Coughing and spluttering, Andy lies on the ground, trying not to be sick at the disgusting taste and stench of the fetid water in his mouth and on his clothes.

“You all right?” Ianto takes one of the bottles of water from his pack, twisting the top of before handing it to Andy.

“I think so.” Andy coughs, still feeling sick. “You really don’t want to know what it tastes like.” He suspects what he’s fallen into is probably a drain from the old cowsheds. He supposes that he should be grateful that it’s not fresh, but somehow that seems to be of little comfort.

“Good to go?” Ianto asks after Andy has swilled his mouth out a few times with the water and used the remainder to rinse his face and hands.

Scrambling back to his feet, and trying to ignore the smell and the way the fetid water in his boots has soaked through his socks, Andy nods.

“There’s a camp site in about another six miles; it should have a shower block or a water point,” Ianto says, moving to stand upwind of Andy.

Those six miles, Andy decides, can’t be covered soon enough.


* * *


It’s nearly dark by the time that they arrive at what had once been Church Farm camp site. A quick inspection of the site reveals a small portacabin office, a combined shower and toilet block and a shed with a few pieces of gardening equipment. Nothing seems to have been used for weeks, the grass across the camp site having grown too long for anybody to easily pitch a tent.

Leaving his pack in the office, Andy is pleased to find that the water in the shower block is still working. The water is cold, but being able to have a proper wash feels like absolute heaven as Andy scrubs away the grime.

It’s two am when Andy wakes up, his stomach cramping painfully, and he has to make a dash for the bushes outside.

It’s when Andy has to run outside for the third time in little over an hour that Ianto wakes up.

“Andy?” Ianto asks, getting up and moving over to him, “What’s wrong?”

Rolling onto his side and bringing his knees up as close to his chest as he can, Andy tries to ease the growing discomfort inside him. The fact that it seems to have suddenly dropped about twenty degrees, leaving him cold and shivering, is doing little to help.

Andy’s stomach cramps again, and he bites his lip, not wanting to have to explain that he’d barely made it outside without messing himself. It’s too embarrassing for words.

Kneeling down beside him, Ianto places a cool hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“I think I caught something when I fell in the water. Feels like food poisoning or something,” Andy says, wondering just what you can catch from falling into stagnant water, or if he might be better off not knowing.

“Just try to rest,” Ianto says, the hand that he’d placed on Andy’s forehead moving to smooth back hair starting to dampen with sweat. “Maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Shivering, Andy hopes that Ianto is right.

The day passes, the slow passage of time measured by increasingly unpleasant and painful trips outside, and Ianto’s frequent requests for Andy to drink more water so that he doesn’t get dehydrated.

Andy wants to argue, to tell Ianto that drinking anything is making him feel worse, but he knows that Ianto is right.

The fact that Ianto is right doesn’t change the fact that water seems to go right through him, that no sooner has he drunk it than it already seems to be leaving him. And it hurts; from his stomach all the way down to his arse feels like it’s writhing and cramping. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this sick or miserable in his entire life.

As the day, or at least Ianto informs him that it has only been a day, draws to a close, Andy wonders if he’ll actually still be there to see the next.

Andy manages to get moments of sleep, his head resting on Ianto’s knee, the rough fabric of Ianto’s jeans somehow soothing against his hot skin. He’s sure that once he would have felt awkward lying with his head on another man’s knee. But it has gone past embarrassment now, past any thought of how undignified it is, down to just pure need for somebody to comfort him and tell him he’s not about to die.

Lying on the floor, every inch of him aching and his stomach feeling like it’s being twisted and tied in knots, Andy watches as Ianto contacts Tosh and then does their nightly scan of radio frequencies.

Morning eventually arrives after a night of uncomfortable and broken sleep that makes Andy feel like he hasn’t had a proper rest in days.

Opening his eyes, Andy sees Ianto emptying one of their backpacks and putting on his jacket.

There’s only one explanation that Andy can think of: Ianto is leaving him. It makes his stomach lurch in a way that has nothing to do with the sickness still plaguing him.

“You’re leaving,” Andy says accusingly, surprised at how weak and hoarse his voice sounds. It’s an effort to sit up, but Andy knows he can’t just let Ianto leave without a word.

“Not for long,” Ianto says, putting on the backpack and walking over to him. “We passed a town not far from here; there’ll be a chemists there.”

“I can’t…” Andy stops and closes his eyes, not wanting to disappoint Ianto, but he knows that there’s no way he’ll manage to get to the edge of the camp site, never mind walking across miles of open countryside.

“I know,” Ianto says, as he kneels down beside Andy. “I’m going to see what they’ve got. There must be something there that can help.”

Andy nods, and then wishes he hadn’t as the room seems to spin.

“I’m going to come back.” Taking Andy’s hand in his own, Ianto gives it a quick squeeze. “You’re going to be all right. Now try to get some rest.”

As soon as Ianto has left, Andy gets unsteadily to his feet and staggers the few feet to the door. Leaning against it, Andy watches Ianto go, the countryside seeming to blur in and out of focus the longer he looks.

Feeling sick and dizzy from the blurred and twisting landscape, Andy finally stops watching and stumbles back over to his sleeping bag. Collapsing onto it, his mouth and skin feeling dry and tight, Andy tries to ignore the headache that seems to be trying to rival the pain in his guts with its intensity.

Whether it’s sleep or unconsciousness that finally claims him he doesn’t know or care; either way it’s a welcome relief.

Andy’s not sure how much time has passed when he feels Ianto’s hands against his back, helping him to sit up. His throat feels parched, lips and tongue too dry to express the relief that Ianto’s kept his word.

“Just drink,” Ianto says quietly, holding a cup to his lips.

The liquid is salt and sweet and has that odd chemical fruit taste that pharmaceutical companies add to medicines designed for children. It makes Andy gag slightly, but he manages to drink about half of it, while Ianto talks quiet encouragement to him, reassuring him that he’s doing well and that he’s going to be all right.

Andy’s not entirely sure he believes it, but he’s too tired to argue. Lying back down, Andy is aware that Ianto still has a hand resting on his shoulder, until he falls asleep again.

Slowly the cramps and pounding headache recede, leaving Andy feeling weak and completely washed out, but thankfully not like he’s about to keel over and die any more.


* * *


They stay at the camp site three more days before Ianto decides that they should probably try and continue towards Southampton.

If their pace had been slow before, Andy knows that it’s now worse. Even though Ianto has taken the heavier pack, Andy finds that he has stop frequently to rest.

The fact that Ianto isn’t annoyed with him for slowing them down somehow makes it worse. There’s nowhere for Andy’s frustration at his own apparent uselessness to be directed apart from back at himself, which he finds just makes him feel even worse about it.


* * *


Leaning against the wall of the building where they’ve stopped for the night, Andy can see Southampton in the distance, the city and port still active if the moving lights of traffic and shipping are any indication.

It seems amazing that they are finally so close, that after days of travelling tomorrow they’ll reach their destination. It’s taken them far longer than their original estimate of five or six days, but between frequently having to detour miles out of their way to avoid military patrols and Toclafane, his own sickness and their slow progress afterwards, Andy is impressed that they’ve made it at all.

The distance they’ve travelled, Andy knows, pales in comparison with the hundreds of miles that Tosh and Owen have covered in the same amount of time. They’d listened on the radio while Tosh had described the port at Shanghai, and Owen complained about crossing the East China Sea, telling them he’d never complain about the countryside again as long as he never has to step foot on another boat, and finally as they’d reached the small harbour near Akune, Tosh’s excitement at being back in Japan after so many years away.

Andy wishes that Gwen hadn’t left Tosh and Owen at Shanghai, going south with a small group of resistance fighters to Vietnam in search of Martha. With no way of contacting her Andy wonders if he’ll ever hear from her again.

Andy’s not sure what to make of the stories about Martha that have been passed to them by Tosh. Stories of a young woman who is travelling around the world collecting pieces of a weapon that can kill the Master. It all sounds a bit Hollywood, but given their current situation, Andy thinks it wouldn’t be the strangest thing to have happened.

Looking again at Southampton, the city only really visible now as a collection of lights as night draws in, Andy knows that finding the small resistance group amid the city and its suburbs will be difficult. Especially as they need to do it without alerting the Toclafane to either their presence or that of the people they are trying to find.

They’ve beaten the odds so far though, Andy tells himself as he goes back inside, and this won’t be any exception.

Ianto is already on the radio as Andy starts to make their evening meal. It’s not that Ianto can’t cook, if heating through cans of stew or beans can really be called cooking, it’s just that Andy likes having this one thing that he knows he’s better at.
The fact that Ianto appreciates it, usually accepting the food with a smile or a murmured thank you, has come to mean more to Andy than he can easily explain.

With the food ready, Andy is about to ask Ianto if he’s going to be much longer on the radio, when he sees Ianto rip off the radio headphones, and throw them aside.

“What is it?” Andy asks hurrying over and crouching down beside him, food forgotten. He’s not entirely sure he wants to know as he sees tears start to course down Ianto’s cheeks. “Ianto, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Tosh. She’s…” Ianto gives him a look of utter misery, his shoulders starting to shake with sobs he can’t keep inside. “She’s dead. I heard her die. The Toclafane…”

Once, Andy thinks, he would have felt more awkward in the face of such overwhelming grief, especially from another man. But there is no hesitation as he puts an arm around Ianto, letting him slump forwards to sob against his shoulder.

It’s not the first time that Andy’s had to reassure somebody who’s distraught at losing somebody they care about. You didn’t spend years on the police force without seeing and having to deal with situations like that. This is the first time, though, that he’s been close to that person and able to comfort them like this.

It startles Andy a little to realise how comfortable he is holding Ianto like this, feeling Ianto’s arms wrap around him, one of Ianto’s hands warm against Andy’s back where his t-shirt has ridden up.

Andy’s not had anybody hold him since before the Toclafane, and he suspects that it’s been even longer for Ianto. It’s more comforting than Andy ever remembers it being, the simple act of being held, and knowing that he’s not alone.

Although Andy doesn’t know Tosh as any more than a voice on the radio, she has been part of his life for the past two months, and the grief at her loss is still keen. With Ianto weeping against his shoulder, Andy feels able to shed tears of his own for the brave, brilliant woman who’d helped so many people by bringing them hope and information.

Ianto’s tears only stop when he falls into an exhausted sleep still huddled against Andy. Andy’s own tears have stopped, although the weariness and grief remain, obliterating all of his earlier excitement at having nearly reached Southampton.

Andy wonders if Ianto would mind if they stayed where they are tonight, just holding each other, and if maybe it could lead to other nights where they can fall asleep together.

It’s thoughts like this that have been occurring more and more often, and he doesn’t know what to do about them. All Andy knows is that right now, with Ianto hurting and vulnerable from the loss of his friend, would be a truly terrible time for him to choose to tell Ianto that he’s starting to have feelings for him.

Slowly, so that he doesn’t wake Ianto, Andy frees himself from Ianto’s grasp, needing to get away and try to understand what he’s feeling. Bundling up his coat and placing it under Ianto’s head as a pillow, Andy goes to sit on one of the boxes strewn about the office.

Andy knows that he’s started to think about Ianto differently. He’s not quite sure when it started to happen, just that it’s been going on for long enough that it seems part of him now. It’s still confusing; Ianto is a friend, the only person he’s got to turn to for anything right now, but Andy knows what he’s feeling is fast becoming more than friendship.

Andy is sure that he’s never really thought about men like this before, not seriously anyway. When he and the lads back at the station got changed in the locker rooms after a shift, he’d never really felt the need to watch all that naked flesh all that closely. Ianto is different though, and it shocks Andy that he wants to see Ianto naked, that he wants to touch him, kiss him, and to have Ianto kiss him back. It shocks him because he can’t remember ever having wanted anyone so badly before.

Andy wants to put it down to the fact that there aren’t any women available, that it’s because he’s spending so much time around Ianto, that it’s somehow just a situational thing. But even while Andy is trying to convince himself of this, part of him already knows that he’s lying.


* * *


After four days of trying without any success to find any trace of the resistance group, Andy wonders if perhaps they’ve been a bit naïve over the whole thing.

As evening falls Andy and Ianto decide to halt the search for the day, and restock on food from one of the out of town supermarkets on the edge of Southampton.

A lot of the food and other useful supplies have already been looted, but there’s still enough left, Andy decides, to stop them going hungry for a while.

Bending down to pick up some canned fish that has been knocked off of one of the shelves, Andy doesn’t realise that he’s not alone until there is the faint but unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked behind him.

“Turn around slowly, and keep your hands where I can see them.”

Putting down the tin, Andy does as he’s asked, his heart hammering as he expects to see a UNIT soldier behind him.

Holding the gun is a man in his late forties. The battered waxed jacket, untidy blond hair starting to go grey, combined with a strong Yorkshire accent gives Andy the impression of a farmer come to chase trespassers off his land.

The hope that Ianto has some how managed to hide or to escape is short lived as he walks slowly out from behind one of the shelves, followed by a woman with slate grey hair, a pink cardigan and a semi-automatic. It makes Andy think combat granny, and somehow, despite their situation, it’s still funny.

The woman gestures with her gun for Ianto to stand next to Andy, before she glances over at the man, saying, “What you think, Alex? You reckon UNIT sent them?”

Alex looks at them for a moment then smiles, shaking his head, “If this is what UNIT are sending then we’ve done a lot more damage than I thought.”

“We’re not UNIT,” Ianto says, giving Andy a look that says let me handle this, before stepping towards Alex.

“So who are you, and what are you doing here?” Alex moves his gun to point at Ianto.

“Ianto Jones,” Ianto says moving closer, still ignoring the gun that’s aimed at him, “and I’m here because I’m looking for you.”

“Are you now?” Alex asks cautiously, as he considers Ianto for a moment, before adding, “And how do you know who I am?”

“Yes. We,” Ianto glances round at Andy, “heard about you from Tosh. We’ve come to join you, to fight back.”

Alex lowers her gun. “We haven’t picked up any broadcasts from her for nearly a week.”

“You won’t, she’s gone,” Ianto says hollowly, eyes reddening as he holds back tears. “She was in Japan.”

“When it burnt,” Alex finishes sadly. “We’d hoped she’d got out.”

Ianto shakes his head. “I was talking to her when…” he swallows hard, “when it happened.”

It’s only the presence of the guns that stops Andy from going to Ianto and putting an arm round him. He knows that Ianto has been struggling since Tosh’s death, eating and sleeping less, the little rest that he does take is disturbed by nightmares.

“That’s rough.” Alex steps forward and puts and hand on Ianto’s arm. “She’ll be missed. She did a lot of good work, helped a lot of people.”

Ianto nods, “She was a good friend.”

“You knew her?” Alex sounds surprised,

“We worked together, a security company in Newport.”

Andy hasn’t until this point considered what they’re going to tell people about what they did before the Master and the Toclafane took over. It’s easier for him, he supposes; being in the police force is hardly an unusual job. Ianto though, Andy realises, can hardly say he worked for Torchwood, and explain what they did. The fact that Torchwood was supposed to help protect the UK from aliens and had failed to do so wouldn’t be looked on kindly.

Apparently satisfied with Ianto’s answers, Alex holsters his gun, before turning to Andy, asking, “And what about you?”

“Andy Davidson, I’m with…was with Cardiff police.” It feels strange to say was, like somehow by admitting it he’s confirming that his life as he once knew it is over. It’s not a feeling that Andy finds he’s remotely comfortable with.

“Takes some getting used to, don’t it?” Alex shakes Andy’s hand, saying, “I’m Alex Roberts, by the way, and this is Sue Jenkins.”

Sue frowns, finally lowering her gun, asking, “You trust them then?”

“Aye, I do.” Alex smiles, “They can come back to the farm with us, tell us what they know about what’s going on.”

Now that there aren’t any guns being pointed at them, Andy walks over to Ianto, putting a hand on his arm, needing make sure that he’s all right. He wants to tell Ianto that it was a bloody stupid thing to do, walking forward when Alex had been pointing a gun at him, that anything could have happened. It’s only the relief that it hasn’t which stops him.

“You okay?” Andy asks quietly, still a little wary of Alex and Sue.

“Yeah.” Ianto smiles tiredly, putting his hand over Andy’s.

Picking up his pack, Alex gives them a curious look and asks, “You two together?”

Andy feels his face flush slightly as he wonders if his feelings towards Ianto are so obvious, and if they are, why Ianto hasn’t said anything to him about it.

“Not like that. We just travel together,” Ianto says before Andy can answer, taking his hand off of Andy’s.

It’s the truth, Andy knows, but hearing Ianto say it makes his chest feel tight. It feels like rejection, a casual dismissal of everything that he’s feeling about Ianto.

“Don’t matter to me if you are,” Alex says, going over to the door and checking that their route is clear. “I just wanted to know if you want to bunk together, only we ain’t got much space back at the farm.”

Feeling more alone that he has since this started, Andy follows Alex, Ianto and Sue out of the supermarket.


* * *


The walk to the farm takes a couple of hours, although Andy suspects that is due in part to the fact that Alex has taken them there by a less than direct route.

The farm is set well back from any roads, the building itself mostly hidden amongst a group of tall evergreen trees. Even up close to the farm it still appears to be deserted, the only signs of life being a few chickens that scatter as they approach.

Inside there’s little at first to say that the house is occupied, although the more Andy looks, the more small things that indicate that it is become apparent. It’s the lack of dust on the floors, the way all the curtains have been secured closed so that nobody can look in, and the faint smell of cooking that should, if the house had been abandoned since the Toclafane attack, have faded by now.

Walking though the house, Alex stops in the kitchen and knocks on one of the doors.

After few moments there’s the sound of bolts being drawn back and the door is opened by a young woman wearing a scruffy green hoodie. She looks at Andy and Ianto for a moment, before shaking her head and saying to Alex, “They giving away free men at the supermarket now? I knew I shouldn’t have traded days with you.”

“You win some, you lose some, sweetheart,” Alex says, winking at her as she moves aside to let them down the steps into the cellar.

She laughs, swatting Alex on the arm. “You get worse, you really do.”

It’s so normal, light-hearted banter between friends, which Andy can almost imagine that he’s back in the canteen at the station listening to some of the PCs wind each other up after a long shift.

The cellars under the farmhouse, which Andy suspects would once would have been home to maturing cheeses and bottles of wine, have been turned in a busy but cramped living space.

Looking around, Andy can see that the cellar is home to more than the three people he’s already met, although how many actually live there he’s not certain. Although he knows that it must be at least six, as there are three people, two men and a woman, down here in addition to the three people he’s already met.

Curtains have been hung from the beams in the ceiling to offer the illusion of privacy, dividing off the living and working areas from those for sleeping.

Andy can feel everybody looking at him and Ianto as Alex walks with them down to the far end of the cellar, showing them to a small area of clear floor space.

“It ain’t much, but get your gear stowed and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team,” Alex says before going over to talk to the rest of the people.

It isn't so much an introduction, Andy decides, as everybody is asking them questions all at once, trying to find out what they know and if the rest of the country is in a better state than Southampton.
The fact that he can't provide any answers for them makes Andy feel like he has let them down somehow, although he knows that’s not the case.

After nearly three months of it just being the two of them, it seems strange to be surrounded by so many people again. Not that before all this started Andy would have called eight people a lot; now, though, it is.

That the group already has an established routine helps, although for the first couple of weeks Andy finds it hard to fit back into what feels like normal life. It makes him wonder just when he’d begun to think of checking for alien activity, foraging for food, and practising how to shoot to kill, normal life.

Evenings, once all other tasks are done but no one is yet ready to sleep, are spent talking or reading or playing cards in the dim lamplight.

Andy soon finds that nearly everybody seems to have their own horror stories of the attack. Alex and Sue, who'd both on board the same train, had seen the massacre of many of the other passengers. Mark, who'd fled the city after soldiers on the order of the Master, had started to round people up, taking any deemed to have useful skills and shooting the rest. Or Ted and Ruby, who'd hidden in the cellar of the pub they'd run together, too terrified to open the door and let in those being killed outside.

And some, like Lauren and her grandfather, Dave, had seen the sky split open and the Toclafane poured out to devastate the world. The farm, Andy finds out after they've been there a few days, actually belongs to Dave. Known to everybody, as far as Andy can tell, as Rainbow Dave, he'd bought the farm a few weeks before the Master had taken over with the intention of turning it into a self-sufficient commune. Or, as Lauren calls it, the retirement home for ageing hippies, a fact that Rainbow Dave doesn't dispute.

Andy thinks that under other circumstances he'd might have fancied Lauren, her personality reminding him a lot of Gwen when he'd met her on his first day on the force. The fact that he doesn't he feel anything more than friendship towards her, while his attraction to Ianto seems to grow more every day, confuses him. Andy knows he can't fool himself any longer, that what he's feeling towards Ianto isn’t just a product of the absence of women and them spending so much time together.

What he's going to do about it, though, he has no idea. There is almost no privacy in their cramped living arrangements to be able to talk privately with Ianto, and find out if he feels the same. Not that Andy knows what he'd say if there were, especially as he has no idea if any of what he's feeling towards Ianto is mutual. So Andy says nothing, telling himself that he's just waiting until he's sure that Ianto feels the same, and that it's nothing to do with the fact that idea of telling Ianto and being rejected upsets him more than he can say.



* * *


The days slowly drift into weeks and summer becomes autumn, and all the talk of fighting back starts to seem just that: talk.

It's not that Andy particularly wants to fight, if he's honest the idea the idea of fighting, and maybe even killing someone, makes him feel ill. It's just that it feels like they are losing, that every day
more people across the world die, and the Master's control over those that remain gets stronger as those who are left become too afraid and disillusioned to fight back.

That Ianto has taken up the role of Alex's second in command without any discussion or opposition from any of the rest of them doesn't surprise Andy. Ianto is clever, competent and works harder than anybody Andy has ever known. And that, in its own way, is a problem, as finding any time to spend alone with Ianto has become almost impossible.

It’s not until Ianto is late returning from one of his scouting missions with Alex that Andy finally admits to himself what he’s feeling for Ianto. That it isn't just some passing infatuation or desire to experiment brought on by the stress of seeing the world taken over by aliens. He's fallen in love with him, and fallen hard.

The day seems to drag. Alex and Ianto should have returned shortly before dawn; however, as the day passes and the sun sets, the fear that something terrible has happened starts to set in.

The thought that he might never see Ianto again, might never know what has happened to him, seems to settle like a lump of lead in Andy’s stomach. Sleep doesn’t come at all the first night. Laying on his camp bed, Andy listens to the soft sounds of people sleeping around him, trying not to look at where Ianto’s bed is silent and empty.

The next day is worse, as the rest of the group start to voice their concerns as to where Alex and Ianto are. And when night falls once more, Andy is the last to sleep. Waiting until he’s sure that nobody is left awake to see, Andy takes one of the pillows from Ianto's bed, swapping it with one of his own.

Lying down, Andy refuses to think about why he's just done what he's done, or what he's going to do if Ianto never returns.

It’s another two days before Ianto and Alex finally get back. Ianto is limping slightly, and Alex has scratches and bruises on both his hands, but they are otherwise unharmed, and eager to tell everyone what they have found out.

After making sure that Ianto is all right, Andy quietly replaces the pillow before Ianto notices it's missing, wishing that he could find the courage to tell him how he feels.

The news that they bring back with them, that one of the Master's rocket sites is located only thirty miles from them, seems to provide everyone direction and a new sense of purpose. What the rockets are actually for, whether it's attack, defence or for shipping people off to other planets, nobody seems to know or actually care. The fact the Master has ordered their construction seems like reason enough to try to destroy them.

It makes sense, Andy thinks, as he watches Alex and Ianto studying one of the many maps spread out on the table, deciding on the best routes of attack. Destroying the rockets is symbolic as much as it's practical; it's about giving people a victory and the will to go on fighting.

The idea to blow up the rockets comes from Ruby, and is soon chosen as their course of action. That Ianto and Alex know how to make explosives Andy finds disturbing in a fascinating kind of way. That most of the explosives are made from combinations of normally harmless seeming substances, the timers just old, mechanical alarm clocks is, Andy decides, the worrying part about it.


* * *


Eventually, in late January, all the plans are in place, and the bombs and timers constructed. Only Rainbow Dave remains at the farm as the rest of them set out under the cover of darkness.

It takes them two days to reach the rocket launch site. Walking through the night and taking refuge in abandoned houses by day reminds Andy of his and Ianto’s journey to Southampton.

It’s in a small woodland clearing a little over two miles from the edge of the rocket field that Alex calls a halt. Andy knows that this will be where they split up, each of them taking a gun, a bag of bombs and enough supplies to get back to the farm.

The knowledge that there’s a very real chance that not all of them will come back hangs heavy amongst them as they say their goodbyes. Andy says goodbye to Ianto last, waiting until they are the last two left, wanting to delay the moment as long as possible.

There’s so much that Andy wants to tell Ianto, especially as this could be his last chance, but as Ianto puts an arm around him, hugging him tightly, Andy finds himself too choked and emotional to get out a single word.

“Keep safe,” Ianto says quietly, releasing him, before walking into the night and leaving Andy alone.

The stars and the thin sliver of moonlight provide the barest of illumination. It’s enough, though, for Andy to find his way to the edge of the rocket field and crawls in under the fence. Andy's never really seen himself as any form of action hero, but he has to admit there is something thrilling about it. Thrilling and absolutely terrifying. Despite the fear, Andy knows that he's going to do his best. He doesn't want to disappoint Alex or let the rest of the team down, but even more than that, he wants Ianto to be proud of him.

The rocket field is immense, the rockets themselves with their red and white painted exteriors looking like something taken from a comic book, a child’s representation of what spaceships should look like.

The eight charges and timers in his pack seem barely adequate as Andy nears the first of the rockets. Yet Ianto and Alex had assured him before they set off that the charges would be sufficient, and he’s not about to start doubting them now.

The charges, their timers already connected to them, are easy to attach to the base of the rockets, the peel off glue backing holding them in place.

With the first charge set in place and the timer running, it becomes a race to set the remainder and to clear the perimeter of the rocket field before the first of the charges detonates. Eventually the last timer is planted, and without waiting to see if the first detonates, Andy quickly makes his escape.

Skirting the edge of the rocket field, Andy feels his heart pounding as he crawls through the gap in the wire fence and climbs down into a drainage gully. Following it until he’s out of sight of the rockets, he makes his way through woodland before reaching open countryside.

The sound of the first blast tears through the still night air, but Andy doesn't look back or slow down, wanting to put as much distance between him and the rockets as possible now that the Toclafane and the guards will have realised that they are under attack.

Andy stops only when he can't run any more; breathless and legs aching, he takes refuge in a barn.
The barn is small, a low single-storey structure that had once been a feed store and a refuge from the elements when shepherds stayed out on the Downs with their flocks. Now all that remains is a building that almost certainly leaks when it rain, its contents just a few mouldering bales of straw.
It provides shelter though, and much needed concealment from the Toclafane that will soon be searching the surrounding area.

The night air is cold as Andy waits, a heavy frost starting to form on the ground outside the barn. Dawn is still three hours away, yet the glow in the sky from the burning rocket site lights up the countryside.

The sound of movement outside, footsteps on the half frozen grass, startles Andy and he draws his gun. Even now after months of carrying it, the gun still feels strange in his hand, and he’s ridiculously glad that he’s never had to shoot it in anger or even self-defence.

Looking around the door, Andy sees Ianto leaning against the wall of the barn. The sight of Ianto, his face smudged with soot from the fiercely burning fires, is one of the most welcome that Andy has ever seen.

“You made it,” Andy says, putting away the gun and stepping outside.

Startled and still breathing hard from running, Ianto stares at Andy for a moment before nodding and giving him a tired smile.

Once they're both inside the barn Andy helps Ianto take off his backpack. He can feel the warmth of Ianto's skin and see the flush to his cheeks. It's the closest he's been to Ianto in weeks, and before Andy has time to think what he's doing, he kisses him.

The kiss is brief, Ianto pulling away with a surprised gasp. Looking at Andy, eyes wide and shocked, Ianto raises a hand to touch lips still moist from their kiss. “Andy?”

Turning away, Andy feels like his face is burning, the sudden fear that he’s ruined the friendship between him and Ianto almost overwhelming.

“I’m sorry. I don’t…I mean I’ve never…oh crap.” Andy slams his hand against the rickety wooden partition, frustrated at how scared and out of control he’s feeling.

“It's all right. It was just a kiss. You've done nothing tonight that you should be ashamed of,” Ianto says reassuringly as he places a hand on Andy's shoulder. “It doesn’t have to mean anything, not if you don’t want it too.”

“And what if I do want this?” Andy leans forwards, his lips almost touching Ianto’s, wanting to close the distance between them, yet afraid that Ianto will pull away again.

Ianto smiles slowly, hand moving up from Andy's shoulder to rest against his neck. “I’m okay with that, too.”

It’s strange, Andy decides, kissing somebody of about the same height and feeling the faint scratch of stubble against his cheek. Strange, but very good.

At what point they progress from kissing to serious groping with hands inside unfastened jeans, Andy is not entirely sure, just that it feels like the best and most natural thing in the world. And by the time Ianto kneels down in front of him, his intention clear, Andy decides that any form of rational thought is probably overrated.

The wet heat of Ianto’s mouth, the cool pressure of his hands, combined with the fact that Andy hasn’t so much as jacked off in the past few weeks, mean that it’s over embarrassingly quickly. The release leaves him almost light headed and worried that Ianto will think he has no stamina.

Ianto’s mouth is red, lips swollen from their activity as he looks up at Andy. “You okay?”

Andy nods, not able to string any meaningful sentences together before pulling Ianto up for a kiss.

Ianto’s still hard and suddenly Andy’s obscenely nervous about what Ianto will want him to do. What if he wants to fuck him? Andy’s not sure he can cope with the idea of that, of having somebody inside him.

Andy remembers trying it once with Nerys, one of the barmaids at the Red Lion, but she said it hurt because he wasn’t doing it right, and they’d never tried it again. She was married to a fireman now, Darren or Derek or something like that, with twins on the way. Or at least she had been, before all this madness had descended.

“What do you…um want?”

“Just this.” Ianto takes Andy’s hand in own, guiding it down to the open front of his jeans. “If you’re okay with that?”

Andy nods. A hand job. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved or disappointed, or even what that says about him.

It’s totally alien and yet so familiar at the same time, the feeling of hard, sensitive flesh under his hand. As Ianto’s breathing becomes rapid, irregular, he places his hand over Andy’s, changing the pace, the movements becoming faster, sharper, until he comes with gasp.

The kisses are slower, slicker as they come down off the adrenaline high of the attack, and move behind one of the partitions so that they are not immediately visible to anyone looking in the barn. They are still holding each other, as tiredness catches up with them, and they fall asleep.


* * *


Morning comes far too quickly, and waking up with Ianto curled against him is a lot more disconcerting that Andy had ever thought it would be. It somehow cements what they’ve done, makes it more real and inescapable. It’s not that he regrets it. It had been good bordering on the bloody fantastic, but it’s still confusing.

Pushing Ianto’s arm off from where it’s draped around his waist, Andy gets up, shivering in the cold morning air. Picking up his jacket that he'd dropped on the floor in the course of his and Ianto's activities, Andy fastens it as tightly as he can, digging his hands into the pockets for warmth.
Cold and confused, Andy paces for a few minutes before stopping, to lean against the wall, as he tries to make sense of why, after he’s wanted this for so long, he’s still freaked out about it.

“Are you all right?”

Surprised, as he hadn't realised that Ianto was awake, Andy stares at him for moment before shaking his head. “No, the human race has been enslaved by the prime minister and a load of psychotic alien footballs, I’ve helped blow up a field full of spaceships and I’ve had sex with a man. So no, I’m not all right. I’m so far from all right you couldn’t even see it with telescope.” Andy stops as he can hear an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice and takes a shaky breath, trying to calm down.

Getting up, Ianto chews his lower lip of a moment before sighing and turning away from Andy. “We should meet up with Alex and the others.”

It certainly isn’t the reaction that Andy was hoping for, although if he’s honest, he doesn’t actually know what would be. However, Andy’s sure that complete dismissal of last night is most definitely not it. “Are we going to pretend last night never happened then?”

“Is that what you want?” Ianto asks hesitantly, turning back to Andy.

Andy shakes his head slowly. He’s still not sure what he wants, not really. But he knows what he doesn’t want; he doesn’t want last night to have never happened, and he definitely doesn’t want it to be the last time.

“I wasn't sure,” Ianto says, moving closer to him. “I mean you did just compare us, last night, to the world being taken over.”

“I didn't mean it like that. It's just...”

“Confusing. I know.” Ianto finishes for him, before smiling nervously and reaching out to take Andy’s hand in his. “I hadn't done anything like that before Jack, before last year.”

Ianto's admission that he's still relatively inexperienced in this type of relationship Andy finds somehow reassuring. He thinks it might be because Ianto understands just how difficult some of this is for him.

Andy looks down at where Ianto is holding his hand and smiles.

part four.