Fic: The Doctor's Son (8/10 plus Interludes & Epilogue)
Rating: R - NC17, Adult
Summary: Ianto Jones is the Doctor's son. While travelling with the Doctor and Rose, he meets an American RAF captain in London, 1941 - this is thier story.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Doctor(10)/Rose (implied), Doctor (10)/Martha (implied)
Warnings: AU, violence, language, m/m, Character death (sort of)
Spoilers: Story takes place from DW S1 - The Empty Child through TW S2 - Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang - anything set during that timeframe is fair game.
A/N - Thank you to my wonderful beta's - cazmalfoy , cjharknessgirl , faithharkness and teachwriteslash - certain characters in this chapter were being uncooperative until Teach gave me a way to deal with him.
Begin story here
Ian Jackson sat up in bed with a gasp. Another nightmare. For as long as he could remember, he’d had the strangest dreams. Dreams of travelling through time and space and having adventures. Some left him happy and smiling; others left him hard and aching, covered in sweat. Then there were the nightmares.
All of the dreams, and some of the nightmares, had one common element - a man with ocean blue eyes and a thousand watt smile. Ian had no idea who the man was, but he swore that if he ever saw him, he would drag him to the nearest bed and keep him there for a week. Tied up, if necessary. The things his dream-lover could do with his tongue...
Realising that he wasn’t going to be getting any more sleep, Ian pushed himself out of bed and padded naked into the en-suite. Turning on the tap in the sink, he cupped his hands under the cool water and leant down to splash it on his face.
Standing back up, he shut the tap off and studied his reflection in the mirror. He saw shaggy blonde hair sticking up every which way, except where the ends had gotten wet; thick eyebrows arched questioningly over blood-shot green eyes shadowed with exhaustion and lingering horror.
Shaking off the remnants of the nightmare, Ian stepped into the bathing cubicle and instructed the voice-activated controls to run the morning shower program. While he was standing under the stinging spray of hot water, he ran over the mental checklist of things he needed to get done before meeting his associate.
Ian had crossed paths with the rogue Time Agent when they were both trying to track down a woman rumoured to have an Arcadian diamond. Someone else had found her first and ended up blown to bits for the effort. Ian and John celebrated their lucky escape over a few Hypervodka martinis.
Hart was a shameless flirt and had tried several times to get Ian into bed. He shrugged off Ian’s continued rejection with a breezy, “You’ll give in someday, Eye Candy.”
Rolling his eyes at the remembered comment, Ian got out of the shower and stood in front of the air dryers. The warm air caressed his body, drying him from all sides. When the sensors registered that the excess moisture on his skin was gone, the air turned off. Ian walked back into the sleeping area and quickly dressed before going to make some coffee.
He was meeting John at the club where they’d first met. Not his favourite place to spend time, but Hart seemed to enjoy it and they wouldn’t be there very long anyway.
Ian hoped John’s partner from the Time Agency didn’t call again. They’d been in the middle of a con when Hart had received a message on his wrist strap and taken off. He’d had to do a lot of fast talking to salvage the deal they’d been working on together.
Still, Ian had to admit that he’d like to meet John’s partner. Anyone that could exert that much control over John Hart was someone Ian thought it would be interesting to know.
Finishing his coffee, Ian made sure he had everything he needed - communicator, identification, jacket. He absently grabbed his pocket watch, shrugged into his jacket and left the building.
**********
Ian walked into the pub and paused, looking around. He spotted John immediately. The red coat the man invariably wore stood out like a sore thumb amongst the darker colours everyone else was wearing.
Hart appeared to be in the middle of a particularly outrageous tale, if the wild gesticulations and facial expressions were anything to go by. Ian found himself wondering if all Time Agents were as flamboyant as John Hart. He made his way to where the man was holding court.
“...and that’s when she said, ‘Oh, didn’t I tell you I was part of the emperor’s royal harem?’” Hart finished his story amid peals of laughter and exclamations of disbelief. Spotting Ian, he called, “Eye Candy! Just in time for the next round. C’mon, then, what’s your poison?”
Ian rolled his eyes at the stupid nickname and replied, “I’ll have an Argolin whiskey.”
“Such expensive tastes, Eye Candy,” Hart scolded. “Still, you’re worth it. Someday I hope to find out just how worth it you are.”
“They do say that hope springs eternal, Hart,” Ian retorted, settling into a chair.
“You wound me, Ian,” John said, theatrically clasping his hands against his heart and slumping into his seat.
“Wanker,” Ian muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
“Only because you refuse to succumb to my not inconsiderable charms.” Hart straightened up in his chair, a serious look crossing his face. He abruptly dismissed his fawning entourage and turned toward Ian. “My end is all set up. Do you have everything ready on your side?”
“Yep. The energy blasters are at the warehouse. They’ve all been disabled except for the top layer in each crate,” Ian replied. “Your contacts can test a weapon from any crate and it will work.”
Hart nodded. “Good.” A cunning look crossed his face. “So, how did you disable the weapons? Will they be able to make them work again?”
“Not without these,” Ian replied, smirking. He held out a small, round disc.
Hart inspected the disc, turning it this way and that, before handing it back to Ian. “What is it?”
“The energy cell,” Ian answered. “They can’t be duplicated and the only plans on how to make them aren’t available outside of a top secret factory that produces them.”
“Did you destroy the cells you removed?”
Ian scoffed, “No. They can’t be destroyed without detonating. The blast radius of just one of these would be roughly the size of the city. Destroying all of them would probably take out the planet.”
“Interesting,” Hart mused. “So what did you do with them?”
Ian gave him a suspicious look. “Why do you want to know?”
“Just curious,” Hart grinned. “I want to make sure that if anything goes wrong tonight, we won’t blow up the planet accidentally.”
“Hmm, they’re safe.” Ian didn’t entirely trust Hart’s offhand reply.
“Okay, I think we’re ready then.” Hart stood up and clapped Ian’s shoulder. “I’m off to meet my contact. We’ll see you at the warehouse in an hour.”
“Right. See you then,” Ian agreed, finishing his drink.
He watched as Hart left the pub, an odd feeling of danger permeating his being. Ian shook the feeling off. So long as Hart kept his end of the bargain, everything would go as planned and they’d both be rich men by the end of the night.
*********
“So much for well-laid plans,” Ian said, gasping in pain.
Hart puched him in the gut again and laughed. “You were an easy mark, Eye Candy. The perfect patsy to get me out of the Time Agency.”
Shaking his head to clear the haze of pain, Ian focused on the man standing in front of him. “Patsy? You’re leaving the Agency?”
“I’ve wanted to get out of that bureaucratic hell-hole for years,” Hart sneered. “And away from that arrogant, overbearing partner they stuck me with.”
Ian frowned in confusion. “I thought you two were involved?”
“Hastings is a good fuck, sure,” Hart granted. “He’s a by-the-book kind of guy, though. He never lets me have any fun. It’ll be a relief to be rid of him and all the Agency restrictions.”
“I don’t know much about the Time Agency, but I doubt they’ll just let you go,” Ian replied.
“Ah, but you don’t see the whole picture, Eye Candy.” Hart patted him on the cheek, condescension dripping from every word. “By the time the Agency notices that I’m missing, they’ll track me here. Where they’ll find your dead body and enough evidence to implicate you as the mastermind behind this little operation.”
Hart pulled out an antique hand gun and trailed the barrel down Ian’s cheek. Ian struggled against the mercenary holding him captive, but the man just laughed and held his arms tighter.
“They’ll see my Vortex Manipulator on the floor.” Hart removed the wrist strap and dropped it carelessly. “It’s already programmed to show them that I was tracking you, hoping to stop the deal from going down. They’ll assume that I was taken hostage by my friends here and executed someplace else. Very sad. A loyal Agent killed in the line of duty,” he grinned. “I may even get a commendation out of this. Posthumously, of course.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“We're a cosmic joke, Eye Candy, an accident of chemicals and evolution. The jokes, the sex,” Hart stroked Ian’s face with the barrel of his gun again. “It all just covers the fact that nothing means anything. And the only consolation is - money.”
“You’re insane,” Ian spat. “A complete nutter.”
Hart threw back his head and laughed loudly. “That is quite probably true, Eye Candy. But I still managed to out-con you.”
He stepped back and jerked his head at the man holding Ian. The mercenary let him go, but before Ian could move, Hart pulled the trigger, shooting him in the stomach.
“Enjoy the last few minutes of your life, Eye Candy,” Hart taunted. “I’d say see you around, but...”
**********
Ian lay gasping on the floor of the warehouse, pain wracking his body. Hart had left with the mercenaries, taking the weapons with them. They were probably going to ransack his flat and find the energy cells for the blasters, as well.
He smiled at the thought of how upset the mercenaries would be with Hart when they found out the cells had been disabled, too. He’d had a feeling that Hart couldn’t be trusted, so he’d lied about the cells detonating if anyone tried to destroy them.
Shrugging out of his jacket, Ian tried to use it as a compress to slow the bleeding. His pocket watch fell out and the dim light of the warehouse gleamed dully on the gold surface.
‘Lord of Time...’
Ian stared at the metal sphere lying on the ground in front of him.
‘...can feel the turn of the universe...’
‘A trick of cheating death...’
The voice was coming from the watch. Ian reached out to grasp it, wondering what was happening.
‘Regeneration...’
He released the catch, opening the ancient timepiece. A bright light swirled out and entered him; entered his mind. Gasping at the cascade of memories invading his head and the pain invading his body, Ianto Jones struggled to his feet.
A tingling ran along his nerve endings. He stretched his arms out and threw back his head, closing his eyes against the brilliant light surging out of his body. A yell was forced out of his throat. He could feel the energy racing through his body, healing it - changing it at a cellular level.
The energy faded along with the light and Ianto sank to his knees, breathing heavily. He looked down at his hands, stretching his fingers wide in front of his face. They were longer and more slender than before - an artist’s hands.
Wishing for a mirror, he felt his face and hair. Jawline more square, nose slightly upturned at the end; hair shorter, with a tendancy to curl and sideburns longer than they used to be.
“Well, that was different,” he said, testing his new voice. “Still Welsh, then. That’s good.”
Ianto buried his face in his hands, trying to merge his Time Lord memories with his time as a human. Tears fell from beneath his closed eyelids. Rose. I’m sorry, so sorry. My god, Jack. His heart ached at the memories.
Hearing a door open behind him, he leapt to his feet, searching frantically for something, anything, he could use as a weapon.
“Time Agency,” a voice exclaimed. A niggle of familiarity travelled down Ianto’s spine. “Turn around slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.”
Ianto held his hands up in surrender and turned toward the source of the voice, eyes closed.
“Well, hello, there.” A leer coloured the well-known baritone. “Agent Jasyn Hastings, and who are you?”
Ianto opened his eyes and felt a jolt of desire as he stared into the bluest blue eyes he’d been longing to see again.
Jack!
Interlude 3