i'm in this mood because of scorn, i'm in a mood for total war - locked;
Days after the world has gone back to normal, most of humanity back at their daily routines with no memory of events, Ianto Jones has not forgotten or forgiven. He's hardly slowed down since - there are people to retcon, official explanations to be given, aliens to deal with, and he has family to take care of. Dafydd and Fred both get retconned; ( Read more... )
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The Master says nothing when the Director of Torchwood One comes to retrieve him from his cell; he knows this pathetic little human, remembers him from his brother's easily broken mind and the horrible way he'd taken care of that Jones problem, but it's of little consequence or comfort (more like a bruise to the ego) now that the paradox is snapped. He does not speak when the restraints are put on, doesn't bother straining against the cold metal, and walks with surprising cooperation wherever the pair of guards at the Director's discretion are taking him.
Surprisingly, though he opts for decided non-reaction, the Master finds himself staring at his rival's shamble of a Type 40 and, once unlocked, the somewhat sinister state the interior was left in after its cannibalization.
He does not speak until he hears the lock turned over behind him. "Do you think using a stolen key doesn't make this breaking and entering? Where's the Doctor?"
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The interior of the ship looks little like Ianto might have imagined - and after fifteen months without seeing Jack, he'd considered a few times what the TARDIS might be like - although he knows from information gleaned from other sources that this is not its natural state. He steps up to the console with a contemplative look, pushing aside an amalgamation of wires to find the precise set of switches, knobs, and buttons that he's looking for. It's only after that is done, confidence inspired and a breath drawn, that he turns to look at the Master. It's almost painful to see the alien he'd desired oh so many times to kill, painful to resist the urge, but he won't allow his cool exterior to crack.
"The Doctor isn't here," he replies curtly, "and I'm hardly concerned with breaking and entering." Ianto isn't particularly interested in talking, either, he finds. His attention moves back to the controls, and thinking back to Martha's words he flips the first sequence of three switches with decisive snaps.
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His eyes narrow, attention snapping easily to the series of switches Jones flips. Oh, the Doctor's Type 40 is a mess - it was a mess even before the Master got hold of it, to be sure - but underneath the layers of bubblegum and prayer that holds the TARDIS together, the Time Lord recognizes the controls being handled. He knows what they're for.
"Coward," he says simply, tone making the word almost elegant despite the level of animosity in his voice. "Don't have the stones to just kill me?"
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Coward. Ianto turns that word over in his mind a few times, an almost mad smile quirking at the corners of his mouth. Coward, indeed. He's only a human, after all - a human who has, somehow, lived through worse than this Time Lord appears capable of handing out. He doesn't dignify the words with a response, not just yet - he quickly presses the button sequence Martha indicated, twists a knob that reminds him bizarrely and inappropriately of his family's TV set when he was eight, and turns in time to see the helmet-like device lowering from above.
"I could kill you," he argues cheerfully. "I could kill you a few times, watch you regenerate, and I don't think it would ever grow old." Ianto steps forward, his expression growing considerably more serious, darker. He drops his voice to barely above a whisper. "But I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to take away everything that makes you who and what you are. I want you to understand that. I want you to know, as you become one of us pitiful humans, that everything is slipping ( ... )
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