The Hunt

Disclaimer: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones and PC Andy Davidson do not belong to me, but to Russell T Davies, their fantastic writers, the BBC, and also to John Barrowman, Gareth David-Lloyd and Tom Price for being brilliant! I have only borrowed them, and now must reluctantly let them go. I make no money from this. Please don’t sue me.

Chapter Fifteen

It was hardly surprising that he was daydreaming at work lately. Ianto and Jack gave him so much to daydream about that it was almost unmanageable. Would be, if he didn’t get to see them near enough every day. It was good to be a beat officer just recently, because walking around the streets for some portion of his shift gave him plenty of opportunity for daydreaming.

Currently, he was recalling the pleasant way he’d woken up with Ianto, and the good-natured banter that had followed. He couldn’t wait to get back to it, although that would be to work. There was still the list, but it was comprehensive and lengthy now. He’d also managed to put Laura’s name to it. That had been important to him.

As promised, he had come to know Jack quite well, and even so, he couldn’t quite fathom how he’d ended up as part of this bizarre triangle. It was perfect, really, but things we’re going to have to move onwards. Something had to change. They’d have to let Gwen know, for a start. Andy wasn’t sure whether to look forward to that moment or not, but it was true that he’d become less careful about where he left his car, and what time he showed up. Amazing that they hadn’t been discovered already, really. They’d been lucky.

Just a few more hours and he would be off his shift. It was getting towards early evening – still light and pleasantly warm. He actually whistled to himself as he walked around a corner, finally becoming aware of the loud barking that had been going on for a few seconds. There was a weakened, reedy voice explaining about something, and Andy came to a halt when he came across an elderly woman being led to sit down on a bench.

A man held her hand, while the other hand clutched onto a dog’s leash. Andy followed the lead to the end, and then drew in a quick breath. The dog was big. In fact, the dog was bloody enormous. One of those St. Bernards. Beautiful, really. It stared at Andy, sat down with the calm and placid assurance only big dogs truly have, and then barked at him once. The man looked up from where he had knelt in front of the elderly woman.

He was at least twenty years younger, but probably still old enough to be a pensioner. “Someone just attacked her,” he said to Andy in shock, obviously relieved to see a policeman. “Went that way,” he continued, and pointed down the street to an alleyway between two older buildings. “You could still catch him.”

“Did you see its face? Horrible!” the elderly woman asked the man, her voice shaky with delayed terror, not having noticed Andy. And that made his mind up for him. The hunt was on, and it was his!

“Wait here,” he said, and set off at a run, pulling the baton he carried from his belt as he did. He didn’t really have any sure idea of what he was going to do, and then as he ran his mind seemed to become crystal clear. It was out for blood, and he had to stop it before it found someone it could hurt. Put it out of action.

He thundered down the alley, adrenaline flooding into his system quickly because he was chasing something so terribly dangerous. He alone knew what it was that lurched away around the corner at the other end of the narrow alley, and he gave chase, not even bothering to shout out a warning to his quarry.

That was how he caught up to it, because it was lumbering awkwardly and therefore slower than he was. How could they have evolved to be so inefficient at moving around? Still, that was to his advantage, and he launched himself at it in a kind of tackle, sending them both crashing to the hard street. There wasn’t a fraction of an instant to spare as it turned around beneath him, and he saw it snarl. Hesitate and he would be hurt, because he knew that he wasn’t superhuman. They were vicious killers, and when cornered they must be even worse. He lifted the baton above his head, ready straight away to bring it smashing down into the weevil’s face. And because he was human, he averted his eyes at the last second.

The cat was green. He blinked, and stared at something on the creature’s hooded sweater. Since when had weevils worn hooded sweaters? There was a miniature logo, some silliness, a green panther or puma, and everything changed. His hand wavered on the verge of a crime so hideous that something in his mind splintered just for an instant, and he put all of the physical violence into the roar of his voice as he stared down at it.

It wasn’t what it appeared to be. The figure beneath him wasn’t snarling and fighting. It was struggling. “Andy!” it called out, its voice muffled beneath the cheap mask it wore as it lifted an arm to protect its face. Andy dropped the baton as if it had burnt him, almost threw it away, and the plastic coated aluminium made a hollow ringing sound on the pavement as it rolled away from them both.

There was hardly any weight or substance to the thin, reedy body he was holding down to the pavement, something he hadn’t really noticed until now. The figure reached up to pull the mask away, and something in Andy suddenly hurt.

“Ieuan!” he said in astonished reflex, recognising the boy, but only just. He’d lost weight – so much in such a short space of time – and really that should make the features of his face stand out, but even his cheekbones were sunken in, making him appear deathly ill.

“I haven’t done anything!” Ieuan asserted in a kind of muggy defiance, as though even his own name were an accusation. Andy shook his head, seeing the telltale glaze to his eyes and the hatred. It may as well be a demon in there. The demon drug – heroin.

He knew Ieuan – had known him for a couple of years as a kid growing up on one of the city’s rougher estates. But lately the others said he’d found new friends. Yeah, and he’d known what that meant, but this was the first time he’d seen Ieuan since. Andy hadn’t caught sight of him in months. Wherever he’d been, it’d been a good hiding place.

The stumbling, lurching motion of his flight made Andy almost groan, and he knew without looking. Probably a femoral injection that had gone wrong and collapsed a vein, wasted the muscle in one of his legs. He’d seen that once or twice, and it wasn’t pretty. Oh, he was too young! They all were too young to be lost to this, Ieuan wasn’t the first, and he felt the helpless rage so strongly that for a second he was silent.

“What d’you do that for?” Ieuan demanded contemptuously into the quiet, completely unaware of how close he had come to being murdered. “Fucking wanker!”

That brought him round a bit from his premature grief for the boy that was. That had been, because this wasn’t him. This monster wasn’t Ieuan Ritchie. It just had his name, and walked around inside his body taunting them all, advertising his coming death as if the addiction wasn’t cruel enough. Probably his parents felt it the most. Andy wasn’t sure if he’d rather it had been a weevil. There were things that couldn’t be hunted down, and this was one.

“Get out of here,” Andy said, his voice tight as he got to his feet, feeling a kind of instinctive hatred for the thing that was staring out at him from Ieuan’s eyes. It couldn’t be reasoned with or made to feel anything except self-pity. It was impossible to let him go free without taking him in, and it only happened because of how shaken Andy was by what he’d nearly done. Ieuan seemed to realise that there was something unusual because he quietly pulled himself to his feet, arms and legs looking too thin and spindly to be capable of supporting him. Why hadn’t he seen it earlier?

“I used to like you,” the kid said, still with the same horrible self-important attitude. Andy just looked back at him steadily as Ieuan backed away.

He cleared his throat loudly before Ieuan could run off. “Forgetting something?” he said pointedly, dropping his gaze to the bag, and Ieuan did too. Well – it was a little too old-fashioned and feminine to be his, even if he had anything left to carry around in a bag.

“God!” Ieuan said in pure disgust, as if he’d been expecting not just to be let go, but to be let go with the goods as well. It would have been comical if it wasn’t so sad. Later, it would be comical. It would have to be. Ieuan threw the bag on the floor angrily and then ran off down the alley.

For a moment, Andy stood there. Then, he gathered up the bag, the discarded mask and his baton, putting the latter back into his belt after collapsing it. He considered what had happened. Why hadn’t he seen it earlier? Was he so taken with the list that he couldn’t remain objective in any situation? What if he hadn’t come around in time?

A chilling and realistic image of himself in the alley with a bloodied Ieuan beneath him made him take in a deep, steadying breath. It would have been far too late then to see the truth. It didn’t take Andy long to realise that he’d just been incredibly, miraculously lucky. They both had.

He thought about it for a few moments longer before returning to the elderly woman and her rescuer. Once he’d returned the stolen property, he called through to Chris on his radio, and asked for the biggest favour he’d ever needed. He said it was a family emergency, and Chris seemed happy to take that for an explanation when he drew up with the car to take the two witnesses in to make a statement. Andy handed over the “evidence” to him and said that it was all he’d managed to get before the suspect made a clean escape. He lied.

Something had to change.

Then, for the first time in his career, Andy turned off his radio and walked away from the job. He needed to see Jack, because he’d been lucky. Next time, it could all go differently. There couldn’t be a next time. It couldn’t be allowed to happen again.

It was six-thirty by the time he turned up at the Tourist Office, and he used that time to think, instead of daydreaming. Ianto let him in, flustered because he was still supposed to be at work and he’d just missed Gwen and Toshiko. Again, lucky.

He didn’t explain right away, and contrary to all of his more sensible thoughts he spent a few minutes in the Tourist Office, with Ianto, stealing time for them to enjoy each other. Well, he was early. The day wasn’t ending how it began – not at all – and he wanted to forget that, just for a minute.

Ianto took him seriously when he said they needed to talk – all three of them – and before long they were all in the Boardroom, looking at each other. Jack was the first one to speak.

“So, what’s this about?” he asked, appearing nonchalant, but he couldn’t hide from either Ianto or Andy. Funny, he’d never really seen Jack nervous before. It made him hopeful, because he’d already asked for a favour from Chris. Now he was about to ask for another one.