another trauma i've outrun before another's begun -- narrative; closed
Hear me ...
Eyes narrowed, Ianto looks in the direction of his desk drawer. He must be going mad, he decides; he could swear he heard voices. But his office is empty, save himself and the dog curled at his feet. It's not possible, and so he goes back to his paperwork.
Find me ...
Again. Ianto pauses, eyes lingering on the drawer, then he reaches for his key and unlocks it. He has it open, hand halfway inside, then changes his mind. This is ridiculous.
HEAR ME!
No. Definitely a voice that time. And not just a voice, the Doctor's voice. He inhales sharply and reaches for the watch. Impossible. He's going mad. The guilt is getting to him ...
Pick me up, the watch commands.
So he does. He immediately regrets it, as a sudden flash of memory sounds off in his mind--the crinkle of plastic, smell of blood and steel and screams of the dying and the terrible, terrible whir of a saw ... Ianto almost drops the watch, hand shaking, when the horror-play dissipates into something else entirely. A blonde girl--Rose, he knows, even though he doesn't recognize her--and a hand with a brown sleeve flailing out in front. He's seeing it through the Doctor's eyes--Canary Wharf, all over again. And he watches like some kind of strange voyeur as the Doctor confronts cybermen (giving a shudder to see them, so real), argues with Yvonne, faces Daleks ... watches, sharing the Doctor's pain, as Rose is swept away. Ianto remembers Jack speaking of Rose Tyler, of having been in love with her; now he comes close to understanding why.
Then it ends, abruptly, and there's ... Jack. So many memories concerning Jack--and not the Captain Jack Harkness that Ianto knows. This one's happy. Laughing, carefree, quirky. Then he dies, shot down by Daleks; the Doctor's regret over leaving him is tangible. The end of the universe--and the Jack he's used to. Looking for a cure, and there's no cure to be found; the Doctor regrets that, too.
Ianto twitches in surprise as the Doctor shares a memory with him in it, with the distinct knowledge attached that this is the way Jack thinks of him, feels about him: everything that Jack has shared with the Doctor. That he's wonderful, resilient, everything that Ianto doesn't think he deserves to be.
"Stop."
You can't stand to see what he thinks of you?
"What do you want?" Ianto breathes out, once the memories and the vicarious feelings attached ebb away. He no longer feels ridiculous, talking to a watch.
I love him, too.
"You left him."
Not this time. What did you tell him? He must have asked.
"That you were gone."
That's the worst possible thing you could have told him! the watch rages.
Ianto flinches. "I'm sorry. You got in the way."
You can't allow it to stay like this. The Doctor's voice, inside his mind, is calmer now. Please. I can help ... I can help Jack.
"I think you've done enough." Involuntarily, Ianto glances in the drawer at the other watch. "I can't allow you to release the Master. He's the one--it's his fault Jack is like this."
We're not meant to be like this. You know that. Let me out ... I can make things right. Jack doesn't have to know--I won't tell him what you did. He loves you, time knows why.
Ianto clutches fingers around the watch and closes his eyes. "I can't."
Canary Wharf--I tried to help. I tried. You know that. I only ever try to help.
He shakes his head and begins to put the watch back into the drawer.
Please. Please--
Closing the drawer quiets the voice in the watch, but not his own guilty conscience.