Kingdom of Air, Chapter Two: Exposure
Title: Kindom of Air, Chapter Two: Exposure
Characters: Gwen, Ianto, Owen, Tosh, OCs.
Rating: R for language.
Spoilers for: Torchwood Season One, Dr. Who episodes "Army of Ghosts," "Doomsday," "Utopia," and "The Sound of Drums."

Summary: Exposure: (n) The condition of being on high vertical rock with full consciousness that nothing exists between you and the distant ground but thin air.

Disclaimer: I own neither Torchwood nor Dr. Who.

In case you missed them, the prologue is here, and Chapter One is here.

Once again, big big thanks to my lovely beta seize, for all the good advice and gentle corrections.



23 September 2008


Ianto's taking two breaths for every step, and his lungs still burn with the need for oxygen.

He pauses for a moment, leaning on his ice ax, panting. The air is thin and unsatisfying, and the sun is pounding down mercilessly, making him sweat even though he's standing on a glacier. He's pushed himself hard lately, too hard, and his legs shake with exhaustion

Gwen trudges up behind him, lays a gloved hand on his arm. "You all right?"

"Just giving you a chance to catch up," he lies, pushing his heel down as far as he can to still his leg's trembling.

"Right." He can't see her eyes, hidden behind her climbing goggles, but he gets the feeling she doesn't quite believe him.

He looks back down the line and sees Tosh and Owen standing about twenty meters below them. Tosh's head is down, and Owen is hovering over her; they're not quite touching. After a little bit, Tosh glances up at them, raises her hand in a feeble wave. Ianto waves back.

"We should keep going," Gwen says. "We're about to lose our guide."

Sure enough, Hillary is a receding spot on the horizon, flanked by Scott and Steve in their bright red down suits. "Yeah," Ianto says, and takes another deep breath. It doesn't help anything very much. "Come on."

They trudge on, two breaths for every step.

*

He hikes the last few meters down into Base Camp and then collapses, utterly exhausted. The sun is covered over by clouds now, and a few white flakes drift down from the sky. The sherpas are already hard at work setting up the tents, and a plume of smoke is rising from the mess; the kerosene stoves have been lit. He should get a cup of tea or something.

In a minute. Not now.

Gwen staggers up next to him and flops down on her back with her arms and legs splayed like a child making a snow angel. "I'm exhausted," she announces. "Is it always this hard?"

"I suppose so," Ianto says, and doesn't tell her that he's never climbed this high in his life, and therefore wouldn't know. "It's the oxygen, or the lack of it, anyway. Your body has to work twice as hard as normal to support itself."

"Ah." She turns her head to look at him. "Your leg's still shaking."

"Disco knee." Her eyebrow goes up, and he musters a smile. "It's a technical term."

She lets out a feeble, exhausted laugh.

"I'll see if there's any tea," he says, making a half-hearted attempt to stand. Gwen's hand lands heavily on his thigh, holding him down.

"You will sit here and rest," she says. She sounds so much like his mother. "I'll get the tea. In a minute."

It's his turn to laugh, and after a second, she lets him go, and he doesn't get up. "How far back were Tosh and Owen?" he asks.

"Not too far. They should be along any minute now. So stop your fussing."

Ianto raises his eyebrow at her, but she only smiles. "Am I fussing?"

"Yes."

He pulls a bottle of water out of his pack, uncaps it, and drains half of it in one go, soothing the parched tissues of his throat before holding it out to Gwen. She sits up and takes it, drinking as thirstily as he did. "Seems a bit empty around here," Gwen notes, handing the empty bottle back to him. "I'd thought there'd be more people, other climbers, things like that."

She's right, of course. It's late in the season, but there ought to be at least one other team trying to get a summit attempt in before the snow is too heavy. "They might have blocked climbing permits until we're done," Ianto says, trying to rationalize it to himself as well as to Gwen. But there's fear, tasting like metal on his tongue, and he's not so sure anymore. He glances down at his gloved hand, but it's still. "Save us having to retcon a lot of climbers and sherpas who've seen something they oughtn't."

"I suppose." Gwen's voice is suddenly a bit strained, and Ianto looks at her, trying to read her expression behind her tinted goggles. She doesn't look entirely happy. "It just feels a bit... I don't know, like..."

Footsteps crunch in the snow behind them, and there's a muffled sound of coughing. Gwen is up in a flash, nervously brushing the front of her down suit. "That'll be Owen and Tosh, then."

Ianto turns and follows as she makes her way to them; they're staggering a bit, close but not touching. Owen's coughing into his closed fist, and Tosh is stooped slightly, her feet dragging. "I'm fine," Owen grumbles, not even looking up at them. "'S all the bloody smoke, campfires and that. Gets in my lungs. Whose idea was it to use yak dung as fuel, anyway?"

"Probably a yak herder's," Ianto says, and almost puts an arm around Owen's back to hold him up before thinking better of it. "They've already got the mess tent set up. We'll get you into the warm, get you a cup of tea."

Owen coughs, trudging along to the mess tent.


24 September 2008


Ianto jerks awake, gasping desperately for air, the feeling of suffocation still heavy in his chest. It's minutes before he finally relaxes back into his sleeping bag, his lungs satisfied, for now.

He's lost track of how many times he's woken up like this. It seems he can't doze for more than half an hour without his body forgetting how to breathe this new, thin air. It's early morning - he knows that without looking at his watch - and he is exhausted, but he knows he cannot sleep.

He closes his eyes, and tries anyway.

In the sleeping bag next to his, Owen twitches and stirs, every bit as restless as he is.

*

"The sat phone is staying down here," Hill says, arms folded. "If we need to get in touch with London or wherever else, we'll radio down to Toshie and she'll do it for us."

Steve glares at Toshiko, expression mutinous, and Ianto takes a protective step towards her. "But what if --"

"Hillary's right," Ianto says, and tries to keep his voice gentle, even, level. "Mr. Saxon knows that we're on the mountain now; he knows it's going to take a bit of time to get up there. He'll wait. This is important to him. And if the artifact's as large as you say, we'll need all hands to get it down. We can't have that and the satellite phone as well."

The glare is turned on him; it's the first time they've spoken since Steve tried to bribe him into abandoning their guide, and it's obvious the resentment has only gotten worse. Ianto thinks, briefly, of the man he met in Pokhara, the man he shared that hideous bus ride with. He hadn't liked Steve very much then, but at least he'd been human. He doesn't seem so human anymore. "Mr. Saxon will hear about this," Steve says, and turns away, stomping off towards the tent that holds all their communications equipment.

"Of course he will," Tosh mutters, glaring at Steve's retreating back.

"It's not..." Scott holds his hand out, pleadingly. "Look, he's stressed, he hasn't done a lot of field work; he's taking this too seriously. I'll talk to him, I'll..."

Ianto looks at the man, his face sunburned in spots, pale in others, pinched with pain. "Maybe you should go visit Owen first, let him have a look at you," he says.

Scott shakes his head, then winces as if the movement hurts him. "It's nothing, just a headache. I'll... I'll go get Steve a cuppa, that'll sort him out, I think. He doesn't mean it. He really doesn't." And before Ianto can protest further, Scott too is gone, his steps slower, almost staggering.

Hillary studies Tosh, his brow furrowed. "You'll be all right, won't you, Toshie? I'll leave Anj Dorje and a couple of the other boys with you; you'll be well-looked after. And we'll keep in contact, I promise you. You'll know everything that happens."

Tosh manages to smile. "It's fine, really. Honestly, I've never been very good with heights. I'd just as soon stay down here where it's safe."

"That's my girl." Hillary's smile is touched by strain. "But you, my lad," he says, clapping Ianto on the shoulder, "are coming with me. I need a voice of reason. Besides, you're a damned good climber. Damned good."

"Thank you, sir," Ianto says, ducking his head a little bit.

Hillary chuckles. "Sir. I like that." His eyes drift back towards the mountain, his face a bit wistful. "Shame your Mr. Saxon's in such a hurry. It'd be nice to make a try for the summit; maybe not everyone, but you and I, lad, we could do it. Get your first eight-thousander."

For just a moment, Ianto allows himself to dream of it. If it weren't for Harold Saxon, if he didn't have his team to think about, if he could just try for it, even if he didn't make it... "It's a shame, sir."

"That it is, lad." Hillary sighs. "Christ, I'll be glad to be up there." He starts tapping on his thigh. Rat-a-tat-tat! Ianto's eyes meet Tosh's, and despite the situation, he feels a sudden wave of relief at the look on her face. He isn't the only one who's noticed. "You'll be all right, though, Toshie?" Hill asks again, and she smiles, quick and bright and fake.

"Of course I will. You worry about yourselves, up there." She gives Ianto a significant look, and he nods a reassurance to her.

Hillary catches it, and grins. "No worries, Toshie. Ianto will look after all of us." One last pat on Ianto's shoulder, and it's his turn to stride away, meeting up with the leader of their climbing sherpas, Tenzing, halfway to the tents.

Tosh folds her arms and shivers, and Ianto rests one hand on her back as they return to their own little corner of the vast campsite. "I don't like this," she says, quietly. "I don't like any of it, but I can't put my finger on why."

"It's just... wrong." Ianto stares up at the sky -- flat white clouds, and a few flakes still drifting down. The snows are early this year. "Are you sure you're all right with this, Tosh? Splitting us up like this? Scott or Steve could stay with the communications equipment, they could..."

"No." She shakes her head, her face grim. "I don't... there's something funny going on with them. It isn't safe. The way Steve goes on, Harold Saxon this and that... And Scott's all right, I suppose, but we can't have him on the phone to his fiancee when we need the line for other things. That's our link to the outside world. It needs to be in safe hands."

"If you're sure."

Tosh stops in her tracks, turns back to look at the mountain. This close, Dhaulagiri is overwhelming; you can't get all of it in view, no matter how hard you try. It's an immensity of snow and ice and black, unforgiving rock, rough and jagged slopes, sheer expanses of ice wall. "Just bring them back down," she says, and he doesn't need to ask who "they" are. Gwen and Owen are the only ones he can protect. "That's all I ask."

"I promise, Tosh," he says, his hand resting in the middle of her back. "I promise."

*

He wakes up gasping for air, over and over again.


25 September 2008


Two of the sherpas are ill with what they insist is food poisoning. Owen is convinced it's altitude sickness. "They're not leaving this bloody tent, and that's final," he snaps, folding his arms and scowling.

Tenzing doesn't appear to be very impressed. "We need them. We need to fix ropes."

"Great. Fantastic." Ianto can't help but feel a little sorry for Tenzing. Their sirdar is stubborn, but he's got nothing on Owen when there are patients to protect. "Take someone else."

"There is no one else," Tenzing insists.

"Then it'll keep a day until I know they're out of danger."

Tenzing flushes. "Your Mr. Saxon --"

"He's not my anything!" Owen coughs, a sudden spasm, and Ianto fights the urge to hold him up.

"I'll go," he says, instead, and manages to meet Tenzing's speculative gaze. "I want to get a feel for the route anyway, and we do need those ropes."

Tenzing looks him up and down, nods slightly. "I lead. You follow. No higher than Camp One."

Ianto nods back. "Agreed."

"Fine." Tenzing gives Owen one last, hard stare, then turns and stalks out of the tent.

It's Ianto's turn to suffer Owen's glare, and he meets it as steadily as he can. "You heard Tenzing," Ianto says, quietly. "I'm not haring up there doing anything heroic. I'll follow him up, and I'll follow him down again. I just want to get a feel for the climb."

"Fine." Owen turns back to his reluctant patients, and, knowing a dismissal when he sees it, Ianto goes to leave. Owen's voice stops him when he reaches the tent flap. "You made Tosh a promise. Remember that."

Ianto turns back, meets Owen's eyes. "Don't worry. I keep my promises."

Owen touches his left shoulder, where Ianto once sent a bullet through him, and almost smiles. "Maybe you do. Just don't do anything stupid."

"I won't," Ianto says, giving a final nod to Owen before he turns to go.

He diverts to his own tent, just to grab his gear, and then hurries to meet Tenzing at the base of the path. There's another sherpa standing there, eyeing him with amusement. Ianto ignores them both, sits down to buckle on his crampons, checking to make sure there's no snow lodged in the points. Gwen rushes up to him, her eyes worried. "You're going up already?" she asks.

Ianto manages a reassuring smile. "We're just putting up new ropes, so we'll have something to hang on to while we're climbing. Easier for everyone. I won't be long, I promise."

"But... and why isn't Hillary..."

"He has important phone call." Tenzing doesn't sound happy. "Didn't want us to wait."

Gwen's face falls, and she looks nervously to Ianto. "Do you want me... I could come..."

"It's all right, Gwen." He says it as gently as he can; he refuses to make her feel worthless. "Actually, I need you to help Tosh out. She's going to see if she can get some of the equipment working, run some scans, try to get an energy signature off that device. She could use a spare set of hands. And someone to keep Steve from bothering her too much."

Gwen gives him a rueful grin. "Fair enough. Be careful up there, Ianto."

"I will."

She walks away, but turns back a few seconds later, her smile broader and more genuine. "I'll make sure there's a cup of coffee waiting when you get back."

Surprised, Ianto can do nothing but laugh. He feels a bit better as he gets his crampons buckled to his plastic mountaineering boots. It's his turn to be the one in the field, he supposes.

He follows Tenzing's path exactly; he feeds him rope when he needs it; he does exactly what he is told, when he is told to do it. It's something he's very good at. And as he's doing all that, he looks at his surroundings, committing each landmark to memory. He needs to be able to make this route exhausted, sick, at night. He's promised Tosh that he'll get them down safely. He will keep his promise.


26 September 2008


This time, he lets Gwen come along.

She and Tosh spent all yesterday trying and failing to get some sort of energy signature off the alien device. They know that it's there - when the sun peeks through the clouds, there's a glint of gold, the light reflecting off... something, and probably something quite large, given the distances involved. But no readings. Nothing at all.

It all seems so familiar, but Ianto still couldn't say why.

At any rate, Steve insisted that they take some of the equipment up to Camp One, to see if increased proximity would help. And there was no way Ianto was letting Scott and Steve up on their own. And then there was no way Gwen was going to leave Ianto alone with the Londoners. So. He lets her come along.

It'll be good for her to get some experience on the mountain, anyway.

Tenzing and his crew of sherpas (including the two with "gastric," who have recovered enough to be let out of Owen's sight) take the lead, with Scott and Steve behind them. Scott moves slowly; he doesn't seem any healthier today, and Ianto's starting to wonder what it'll take to get him to finally visit the team's doctor. Steve, however, seems to think he's on great form. He keeps unclipping his harness from the rope, trying to get around the pack of sherpas, only to be forced back by Tenzing. Ianto feels a sharp stab of worry as he watches them; he can't tell who's going to get into trouble first.

But he can't worry about it now. He has Gwen to think about.

Fortunately, she's easy to work with. When he tells her to do something, she does it. He keeps the pace slow and steady and she never argues. There's a giddy sort of surrealism about it; here he is, the youngest member of the team, with the least field experience, and he's in charge.

The thought stops him in his tracks, slipping like ice down his spine. I'm in charge.

Gwen looks at him, puzzled. "All right?" she asks.

He smiles back at her, because it's what Jack would do, and Jack isn't there. He's in charge now. "Perfectly."

It isn't too much longer before they're hauling themselves up to the shelf that will serve them as Camp One. Ianto and Gwen sit on the edge for a moment, legs dangling into empty space, Base Camp small below them. It's probably for the best that Tosh isn't going to ever come up here. She wouldn't like it very much.

"It's a bit brilliant, though, isn't it?" Gwen asks, staring out into the horizon. "I mean, I can't catch my breath and my feet are absolutely killing me and I don't think I've ever been this tired in my whole life, but... it's brilliant, just the same." He tries to push his smile back, and she nudges him with her elbow, laughing lightly. "Admit it, Ianto, you're enjoying it too, sometimes. When you're not babysitting the rest of us."

"Maybe that's the bit I like best," he says, with a shrug.

"Always taking care of us, that's Ianto."

He smiles at her. "Somebody's got to." He's in charge now. "Rest a bit. I'll see if Steve's managed to get any sort of a reading." He pushes up to his feet and walks over to where Steve is standing, staring up at the mountain.

As Ianto gets closer, he realizes that Steve's not only pushed his goggles up onto his head, but he's taken off his gloves, and the skin of his hands is pale, almost bleached with the cold. "You know," Ianto says, trying to keep his voice light, "it's a bit difficult to climb when you've got frostbite."

"Nothing," Steve says, as though talking to himself, as though Ianto isn't even there. "Nothing. I don't understand it." There's an edge of fear in his voice. "I need to get a reading. I need something."

"It's there," Ianto says, his voice louder now, trying to get through. "We can see it, can't we? There's nothing to worry about; when we get higher, it'll show up on the scanners."

Steve's hands, still ungloved, tremble around the device he's holding. "Nothing. How can there be nothing? I don't understand. Mr. Saxon said..."

Ianto contemplates shaking him, decides against it. They're standing precariously close to the edge of this little shelf, and he's not sure what Steve will do if he's surprised. "It's got some cloaking technology, probably," he says. It's like talking to a sleepwalker. "If it is that powerful, whoever created it doesn't want us getting too close."

"Close." Steve's eyes leave the scanner, track up the mountain. "Closer. I need to be closer." Without warning, he starts scrambling upwards, still with no gloves on, hands slapping in the snow for support.

Without thinking twice, Ianto lunges forward, grabs him by the back of his down suit and pulls him back. Steve struggles, and it's all Ianto can do to keep both of them away from the edge as Steve twists in his grip, shoving him backwards. Ianto can feel the void just behind him; he bends his knees for leverage and pushes forward, back towards the safety of the mountain's face. They stumble together, almost falling, but he manages to force Steve to take a step backwards, then another.

"Ianto," Gwen cries, her boots crunching on the snow.

"Steve!" Scott's voice. His steps join Gwen's, but they're awkward, lurching, and there's a soft thump as someone falls.

Ianto can't look to see who it was; his eyes are locked on Steve's. The other man's gaze is sharp, furious, brown eyes blazing. "Fuck you! Get off me! Get off!" He digs his feet in, tries to shove Ianto away again; Ianto pushes back just as hard, refusing to fall.

Finally, Ianto manages to pin Steve's arms to his side, pushing him against the rock face and holding him there. "Listen to me," he says, very quietly. Steve flails, almost gets free, and Ianto slams him back so hard that his head bounces off the mountain with a sickening crack. "Listen to me!"

"That's enough, Ianto," Gwen says, her hand on his arm, her voice trembling.

Ianto doesn't look at her. He keeps his eyes locked straight on Steve's. "If Harold Saxon had wanted you to get that artifact by yourself, he would have sent you here by yourself. He didn't. He gave you a guide, and he selected a team, and he did it for a reason. He knew that if you went after the artifact by yourself, you would fail. Is that really what you want? Do you want him to see you as a failure?"

Steve gives one convulsive shudder, and sags against the rock. For a moment, Ianto is certain that he's gone too far, pushed the man past his breaking point. He loosens his grip, on the verge of apologizing. Then the rage is back in Steve's eyes; he scowls, and tears himself free of Ianto's hands. As he stalks away, he passes Scott, struggling to his feet with help from one of the sherpas. He doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at the man who's supposed to be his partner. Ianto shivers.

Tenzing catches Steve by the shoulder, his face set as stone. "You will go down now," he says, in a voice that brooks no argument. Steve shrugs free of Tenzing as well, and clips onto the fixed rope without a word or a look to anyone.

Ianto catches Tenzing's eye, and nods. "We'll go," he says. "Just... just give me a minute."

"You should be more careful, Mr. Jones," Tenzing says, and Ianto gets the distinct impression that he's not talking about climbing.

Scott is being led off towards the ropes now, the sherpas surprisingly gentle with him. Ianto slumps against the wall and sighs. Gwen looks up at him, her eyes wide, terrified. "What was that, Ianto? What just happened?"

Ianto can only shake his head. "I don't really know, Gwen. Nothing good, I'm afraid." He glances up at the mountain again, its threatening bulk. "Come on. We'd better get back down to Base Camp and tell the others."

Tenzing is still watching them with that stone face as they swing off the ledge, moving back towards safety.

Neither of them says anything on the long climb back down. It's only just hit Ianto that he could have died, that Steve could have killed him. It's still not as frightening as the way Steve just brushed by Scott, his friend, for God's sake. As if nothing else existed. Just the mountain, the artifact, Harold Saxon. It's all slotting into place now, and none of it is at all reassuring.

Finally, they're down. He unclips himself from the ropes, then waits and helps Gwen when she's reached bottom. "Go fetch Owen, yeah? I'll get Tosh. Meet up at... our tent, I suppose."

"Right," Gwen says. She smiles at him, just for a moment, obviously trying to reassure. It's getting to the point, though, where there just isn't any reassurance.

Tosh rushes towards him as he approaches the tent that houses all their comms equipment. "What happened?" she demands, stopping just short of running into him. "Steve burst in, practically threw me out --"

"I'm calling a team meeting," he says, and he's trying to joke, but nothing's funny anymore, either.

Tosh catches his tone and nods, abruptly falling silent. "Right," she says, quietly. Her gloved hand rests on his arm as they walk off together.

Gwen and Owen are already sitting on Owen's sleeping bag when Ianto and Tosh come into the tent, and Gwen has somehow managed to make tea on the tiny camp stove they use as heat. "He tried to fucking kill you?" Owen snaps, half-rising before a coughing spasm stops him. Gwen urges him back down, one hand on Owen's wrist, the other on his shoulder, trying to shush him. He jerks away, his face red. "Jesus, Ianto, I thought you said you weren't going to do anything stupid!"

He takes a deep breath, keeps his composure. "Just... let me explain, Owen, please." He glances at Tosh (she's staring at him, horrified), inclines his head towards his own sleeping bag. "Please, Tosh."

She sits, but she doesn't look happy. "It was Steve, wasn't it? Ianto..."

He sits next to her, and begins tugging his boots off. "He was trying to get a reading off the artifact. Said he couldn't get anything. It was like... like he was in a trance. Then he said he needed to get closer and just... started climbing. No ropes... he didn't even have his gloves on. So I pulled him back."

"And then he tried to shove you off the mountain." Owen's tone is bitter, sharp with half-suppressed fear.

Boots off, Ianto begins to struggle out of his down suit, trying not to elbow Tosh as he does so. "I think he was just trying to get free, at first. He didn't care about me. He just wanted to get to the damned artifact."

"Well," Gwen says, with a nervous half-laugh. "That's not what it looked like to me."

"Do me a favor, Ianto," Owen says. "Next time, let him die if he bloody wants to. There's no point in the only experienced climber here getting thrown off a mountain by that lunatic."

It's clear, from the tone of Owen's voice, that he isn't joking at all. And it's a mark of just how bad things have gotten that neither Gwen nor Tosh protests his callousness. They sit there, silently, for a long time.

When Gwen does speak, she's gone into her PC Cooper mode, gathering the evidence, sorting the facts. "So," she says. "You said it was like Steve was in a trance. So how did it happen? Who put him there?"

"Harold Saxon." Tosh's voice is absolutely firm.

"But..." Gwen shakes her head. "No. Why would he? I don't..."

Her hand taps against her thigh. Rat-a-tat-tat!

"We don't know why, yet, but we know how," Ianto says. Tosh looks at him; Owen's eyes are fixed on Gwen's hand, tapping, tapping. "Remember Suzie's friend? Max? Went crazy every time he heard the word 'Torchwood?'"

"He was a bit difficult to forget," Gwen says, peevishly.

"When it happened, Jack had me go through Torchwood One's old records on something called Neuro-Linguistic Programming. We studied it in London. No one's quite sure how it works or how far it goes, but we do know that you can use it to implant subtle psychic triggers. To make someone forget something without retcon, say. Or, perhaps, to make people loyal to you, no matter what. Gwen, look at your hand."

She doesn't even hesitate; her eyes go to her hand, tapping out that rhythm. Rat-a-tat-tat! "It's not just you, Gwen," Ianto continues, quietly. "We've all been doing it. The moment you start to doubt him, or wonder what we're doing here, that rhythm comes up and washes it away." He taps on his own thigh to demonstrate. "Always the same." Rat-a-tat-tat. Rat-a-tat-tat!

"I think it's his voice," Tosh adds. "Because it explains so much. When we came here, we'd been bombarded by him. All over the television, calling us at least once a week. We weren't in a state to question him. But none of us have heard his voice since. Steve, however, has been in almost constant contact with him. That's why he's still so much in thrall."

Owen nods. "'Spose that explains why I agreed to come to the bloody mountains in the first place," he says, his voice quiet, almost apologetic.

Ianto manages a slight, bitter smile. "And why none of us thought it was at all odd that you'd want to go. He fooled all of us, Owen."

Gwen closes her eyes and then takes a deep breath, apparently trying to take it all in, to analyze the data. "That doesn't give us motive," she says, finally. "Why?"

"For one, he needs Britain to trust him, so he can win the election," Tosh says. "Nothing surprising there; the more power he has, the easier it'll be to do whatever he wants to do. The question is what does he want, and what does this artifact have to do with it?"

"And why did he send us to get it?" Ianto adds.

Tosh just shakes her head. "We may not be much, Ianto, but we're the only field-trained team there is. There wasn't even discussion of reopening Torchwood One until seven months ago. He can't turn to UNIT; they answer to the UN, they'd never just hand the artifact over to him. He needs us."

Ianto wants to argue, but he can't; he doesn't have a reason, just an uneasy feeling, and it's not enough, so he holds his silence.

"Which leads us back to the artifact," Gwen says. "What is it, and why does he want it?"

Owen sighs. "Well, we know that it's big, and it's gold, and it's a sphere. Also, it doesn't seem to respond to any of the equipment we have, for what that's worth."

This, Ianto may have an answer for. "We had something big and gold at Torchwood One. The Sphere, we called it. Nearly ended the world with that one. Turns out it was full of Daleks."

"Jack said your boss, Hartman, was obsessed with that thing," Owen says, quietly. "Fixated on it. Wouldn't listen when he said it could be dangerous."

"She was obsessed," Ianto says. "We dropped nearly everything else to work on that. It was all anyone talked about; the Sphere, the ghost shifts. Yvonne Hartman's masterpiece."

"If it is a void ship," Tosh says, finally, and her voice is very quiet, "God only knows what could be inside of it. If it falls into Saxon's hands..."

"It would be the end of everything," Ianto finishes, equally quiet.

Gwen thinks for a few seconds, then nods, as if coming to a decision. "We'll talk to Hillary, make him call off the climb. Whatever this thing is, it's safe here on the mountain."

"No offense, Gwen," Owen says, "but if we turn back, Saxon'll just send someone else up after it, until he gets it down. And I doubt he'll just let us go home."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Tosh says. "Hillary's been on the phone to London nearly as much as Steve. We can't trust him anymore. The only way is to make sure we take possession of it, try to figure out a way to destroy it before it can be opened."

They all look at Ianto, who clears his throat. Something still feels wrong; something is still missing. But it's obvious that Tosh and Owen are still dead-set on bringing the artifact down, and neither of them are climbers. They need him. "If we're going to make the climb up to get it," Ianto says, keeping his voice very steady, looking at each one in turn, "then we need to focus on the mountain. There's already been problems with altitude sickness, and it's only going to get worse as we get higher. Then there's the snow; we're risking getting caught out in a storm, or hit by an avalanche. There are crevasses. There are a hundred things that could go wrong, and we can't stop Harold Saxon if we've already been killed by the mountain."

"Get to the point, Ianto," Owen says, but without his usual anger.

Ianto has to take a deep breath. "The point, Owen, is this. If I say we need to turn around and go back, we turn around and go back. Even if the others push on. No arguing, no one going off on their own. We stick together, come back to Base Camp, and then sort out what to do from there."

The rest of the team exchanges glances, and he sits quietly, waiting.

Finally, Owen nods. "Right, Teaboy. This is your show."

Tosh gives his arm a squeeze, and Gwen smiles.

"All right," Ianto says. He feels a short burst of terror, but shoves it down and locks it away. He can be scared all he likes later; right now, he needs to focus on keeping his team alive.

Tents at Dhaulagiri Base Camp