James Goss - Almost Perfect

‘Fire escape,’ said Gwen.

‘Ah,’ said Jon. ‘It’s just that we’ve got psychic shielding up.’

‘Is that so?’ said Gwen. ‘Only we’re Torchwood.’

‘Jack’s friends.’ Jon smiled at Jack. ‘Well, it’s sweet that you tried a rescue, but it’s not going too well. And I don’t believe that you got through our shields without help.’ He turned to look at Ianto. ‘And you – you’ve been touched by the machine. You’re wearing Christine.’ He ran a finger across Ianto’s hair, and Ianto tried not to flinch. ‘She suits you. Lovely work. It’s not lost its touch. Where is it?’

Ianto had recognised their voices. These were the balls of fire. Those cruel, sing-song voices. They’d torn apart that boat in their fury, they’d wrecked lives looking for that machine, and they’d thrown up this unholy horror around them, all to show off their dreadful power. And now one of them was staring him in the eye and smiling slowly.

Bren looked up, tapping ash out. ‘Have you brought us back the machine?’

‘Would it actually help?’ asked Ianto.

‘It’d stop all this,’ Brendan waved his cigarette around the room.

‘Really? Could it make all these people better?’

‘Oh probably. It can do all that, and make us gods again, and give you back Captain Jack. Lovely.’ Brendan considered. ‘And maybe that’s the right thing. Or maybe this is our wake-up call.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Jon.

‘Why should the party stop? With the machine, we could expand again.’ Brendan had stood up, spreading out his hands. ‘Gods need room to breathe.’ He started to glow.

‘I think you should stop,’ said Ianto, very quietly.

‘What?’

‘Just once, wouldn’t it be nice to just go back to how things were? Everything’s changed. But what about a bit more of the same?’

‘I agree with the skirt,’ shouted out Jack. ‘I think you’re both in danger of doing something very, very stupid.’

Jon shot him a glance. ‘Looking like that, you manage that sentence?’

‘I am not without a sense of irony,’ muttered Jack.

Brendan advanced towards Ianto. ‘Give us back the machine.’

‘No,’ said Ianto. ‘I don’t think it’s safe in your hands any more.’

‘Really?’

‘No.’

Jon reached out a hand and, barely moving, he gently picked up Gwen and threw her screaming into the wall. She stuck fast, half in, half out, her hair sucked and pulled back. She screamed and struggled and only succeeded in vanishing further in.

Jack screamed back at Gwen. Ianto ran from the room.

Behind him he could hear the Perfection laughing.

Ianto sat on the fire escape, sobbing to get his breath back. He opened up his handbag, and took out the bag with the alien device inside.

‘Oh, you,’ he thought. ‘You’ve caused so much trouble. What the hell do I do now?’

He opened the bag, and tipped the device into his hand.

Captain Jack Harkness, at your service! Boomed a very familiar voice in his head.

‘Why are you doing that?’

I’m the voice of who you most admire, Ianto Jones. Great shoes, by the way .

‘Thanks. But I wish you wouldn’t do him.’

Oh, come on, Ianto. It’s just a bit of fun. Puts you at ease, doesn’t it? Admit it. Just a little?

‘It’s comforting, yes. But it’s not right. You shouldn’t sound like him. Not when I’m trying to work out what to… do…’

It’s really easy .

‘Is it? Can you make everything right? Can you? Jack and that room and me?’

Yes. Trust me, Ianto .

‘I’m not sure I can. I’ve seen what those creatures did looking for you.’

But Ianto – all the people I’ve helped. I helped so many on that boat .

‘But so many people died. And look at me.’

I can fix you. And Jack. I can fix him too .

‘NO!’

You love him. He doesn’t love you. You saw him in there. But I can change all that, Ianto Jones .

‘How can I trust you? Those creatures in there. They relied on you, and you-’

That’s different. They were boring .

‘What?’

I got bored. I always did. A few thousand years of perfection, and I’d make them move on. You know how it is. You cure war, famine, plague and pestilence and then… you know… it’s the small stuff. I’m better off moving on. Like that Littlest Hobo doggy. Who doesn’t love a dog?

‘Again, what?’

I got bored. I made them come here. I thought it’d be a change. And I just wanted to move among you. When Ross and Christine stole me, I went willingly. And the Rift’s made me so powerful. It’s been brilliant. Mending lives – you people are so broken. I’ve lived on worlds where people had far less, led simpler lives and were so much happier. But look at you – you’ve got warm, dry homes, food, shops with Lego. And you’re all miserable. I don’t want to go back .

‘I’m not sure you’ve got a choice,’ said Ianto.

The machine sighed.

‘Can you do what I want you to?’

Yes . There was a petulant note.

‘It’s asking a lot.’

Trust me, it’ll be pretty spectacular. It’ll be like the Bonfire Night and New Year’s Eve all rolled into one .

‘I love a show, me.’

Ianto climbed back inside, and strode down that horrifying corridor to the door. He could sense the entire house breathing around him.

It’s not too late, you know. Would Jack do this? Ask yourself that .

‘I don’t care about that.’ He shook his head. ‘I am Ianto Jones and this is how I roll.’

He straightened his skirt, reached for his gun and kicked open the door.

‘Oh come off it,’ snapped Brendan, clearly unimpressed by the gun. ‘You barge back in here in your little black dress and expect us to be amazed.’

‘Yes,’ said Ianto.

‘Do you know what we can do?’ sneered Jon, stretching out an arm.

Ianto suddenly smelt burning hair and shuddered.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘And I don’t care. I would like you to stop all this. And I would like Jack back.’

An outraged shriek.

‘Oh, and Gwen too, please.’

Brendan laughed. ‘We’re too late for this. Jon, honey, we’re getting old when we’re being menaced by a little girl with a gun. Just give us the machine, dear.’

‘We can do this the easy way, or the hard way,’ said Ianto, quietly.

‘Given the look of you, easy.’

‘Seriously. Last chance. Dismantle this room.’

Jon shook his head, almost sadly. ‘We can’t. It’s the machine – it’s taking so much power. We have to feed it.’

‘And that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it?’ said Ianto. ‘All those years, all those believers – it’s all just fuel for that machine. You’ve become enslaved by it.’

‘Yes,’ said Brendan quietly. ‘I suppose we have.’

Jack started to laugh. ‘You told me you were gods. Well, now we know what gods worship.’

‘Yes,’ snapped Jon. ‘Perfection. And we had it when we had the device. Now look at it – we simply did this to try and make everything right. We were acting in the best interests.’

‘Even gods lie to themselves,’ said Jack sourly.

Ianto spoke quietly. ‘I’ve talked to the machine.’

Brendan marched towards him.

‘You’ve got it? You’ve got it on you? You silly bitch. You’re not leaving the room with it.’ He raised a glowing hand to strike Ianto.

Ianto fired and Brendan fell back, whimpering.

Ianto turned to Jon. ‘I’m sorry. Would you also like to come and have a go? Are you feeling lucky? I am. I have your god on my side.’