Different Sort of Science -- The Tailor's Son
Title: Different Sort of Science
Chapter One: The Tailor's Son
Date Written: 8/16/08
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 1,550
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Ianto, Jack, Adam Smith (TW), Suzie Costello (mentioned, TW), Clive Finch (DW), unnamed OCs
Spoilers: Sort of for TW 02 & DW 04, mostly 4th wall references
Warnings: AU like whoa
Author's Notes: No idea where this one came from... and no idea how long it's going to end up being. So bear with, okay?
Book cover by et_muse
"But there's no such thing as magic!"
"Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."
--Martha Jones and the Doctor, The Shakespeare Code
It's the simple things, the little moments that can completely throw your life off the course it's firmly been set on.
For Ianto Jones, it had been something as simple as offering help with a stubborn horse.
His day had started normally enough, the way it had for the past twenty-two years of his life. He was up with the sun and out in the stable, feeding and caring for the family's horses. Once he'd taken care of those chores he'd gone in for breakfast with his parents and younger sister. His brother came in shortly after they'd cleared the table, wife and baby in tow. Ianto and his sister had made faces at the baby, making him laugh until their mother scolded them to get on with their work.
He helped his father and brother open the family's shop, then split his time between helping clients in the front and helping his mother and sisters with the spinning and the weaving and the care of his now-walking nephew. He'd been showing the boy how to use the spinning wheel, guiding pudgy baby fingers through the soft wool when his father came into the workroom, habitually smoothing his mustache with his fingers. "Ianto, I need you to go down to the cobbler's for the Costello shoes. Then you need to go fetch some more of those silver buttons we bought last week from Finchy. Apparently, some of those folks up in the Torchwood House like them, so now everyone wants them."
He gave his younger son a bag of gold pieces and sent him on his way. Myfanwy, the horse he'd raised from a colt, had been very happy to see him, full of restless impatience as Ianto had saddled her up and tugged the reins, leading her to the cobbler's first.
The cobbler's was only a few shops down from the tailor shop his family ran, but he stopped there first. The cobbler himself was a kindly older man (although he didn't speak much), but his apprentice Adam unnerved Ianto for some reason he couldn't quite suss out. Most people got unnerved by his yellowish-red hair, but for Ianto it was his eyes, far too cold and calculating for a cobbler. He smiled politely when Adam handed over the shoes his father had commissioned for Miss Costello, but didn't linger the way he would have if it had been his master.
Finchy, the trader his family worked with, actually worked in the next town over, a good half-hour's ride. Myfanwy had thoroughly enjoyed the ride, running nearly flat out and making it to the shop in record time. The trader's name was really Clive Finch, and he was a jolly man always so full of fantastic stories that never failed to make Ianto laugh.
"You watch out for those lads up in that Torchwood House," he warned when Ianto had told him why they needed more buttons. "You know what I think about those folk."
"Yes sir," Ianto intoned, rolling his eyes. Finchy had great, wonderful, fantastic stories, but most of them were completely mad. Most of them involved some sort of grand scheme from the Torchwood House to take over the world.
Finchy talked him into staying for lunch, so he got off a bit later than he'd wanted. Myfanwy was in the mood for a more leisurely stroll back home and Ianto indulged her. The day was nice and warm, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun tingled on his face and arms. He was reluctant to go back, to spending the rest of the day cooped up with dark fabric hanging on walls and the clicking sound of spinning wheels and weaving looms.
A voice pulled his attention away from his introspective. Ianto looked up, finally noticing a man standing in the middle of the road, swearing at his horse. The mare was sullenly ignoring him, digging her hind legs in whenever her rider would tug on the reins. She tossed her head and he stumbled back, falling on his rear in the dusty road. The horse tossed her head again and let out a whinny, obviously laughing as her owner started swearing up a storm.
Ianto laughed as well, slowing Myfanwy down to a stop. The man glared up at him with blue eyes, a streak of dirt across the bridge of his nose and his long brown hair beginning to come unbound. "Sorry mate," Ianto said, swinging himself out of his saddle. "But I think you're going about things the wrong way."
"Oh, by all means," the man replied, sarcasm heavy in his words. The other's voice was smooth and oddly accented. Ianto noted it, tried to place it briefly before dismissing it. Wales was a haven for all sorts, and the impression he got from the stranger was one of annoyance but not of danger.
Ianto spared a glance at Myfanwy, who was busily contenting herself with a quick chew of the grass growing off the side of the road before turning to the other horse. The horse turned to regard him. "Now, why are you being so mean?" Ianto admonished, wagging a finger at him the same way he'd done to his nephew earlier in the day when he'd upset a basket of yarn. "I'm sure you have somewhere else you'd rather be."
He stepped forward cautiously, grabbing her reins in a loose hold. When she didn't react, he took another step closer, put a hand on her nose. "Now, Janet, that's a good girl." He rubbed her nose with a thumb, running a hand up between her wide-spaced eyes. "Don't you want to go home? I'm sure you have a nice brush waiting, maybe something to eat?" he coaxed. Something else in her demeanor changed. She was considering it. "Sounds like a good idea, yeah? Now, let's be a good girl." He leaned in and kissed her nose before turning to the other man.
"There. Sorted."
He'd picked himself up off the ground and brushed the dirt off his dark blue riding coat, staring at him in amazement and looking terribly familiar. It took Ianto another moment to realize he'd been in the shop about two weeks previously. "How'd you do that?" he asked.
Ianto shrugged, trying to put a name with a face and momentarily lost. "Always had a knack with animals." And children, it turned out, since he was one of three people who his nephew actually obeyed. He handed the reins over. "She'll listen to you now."
"Huh." The man crossed his arms across his chest and the name appeared like magic. Jack Harkness. He'd personally sewn the jacket the man was wearing, the measurements flicking through his head. "Where do I know you from?"
"You were at my father's shop recently, Mr. Harkness," Ianto said, giving a polite smile. Oh, his father would be pleased to hear about this. He'd inadvertently given the shop's reputation a boost.
"Oh, so you're one of the sons in Jones and Sons then?" Harkness smiled and Ianto found himself smiling back. "Yan-toe, right?"
"Close enough, sir."
"Jack, please."
Ianto nodded his head. "Jack."
"So. Tell me one more thing, Yan-toe." He patted Janet's neck affectionately, fixing him with a probing look. "How'd you know her name?"
Ianto looked at the horse, then to Harkness -- Jack. "You must have mentioned it."
Jack's smile widened and he shook his head. "I didn't."
Ianto looked back at the horse, putting a hand on her flank. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Barbara just doesn't seem right."
He threw his head back and laughed, and Ianto liked that laugh. It was loud and brash and filled the entire sky. And infectious, and Ianto found himself chuckling along.
"You need to come back with me," Jack said once their laughter died down. "You deserve some sort of compensation. For your help."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," Ianto replied, shaking his head. The idea was enticing and polite, but he just couldn't. "It's just a little help, I'm sure you would have done the same."
"For you I would have turned around," Jack replied.
Ianto surprised himself by flushing.
"Come with me," Jack insisted.
"I have to be getting back," Ianto replied. "I'm expected."
"I don't think they'll mind if you're only a little tardy," he persisted, leaning in close to Ianto, in his personal space. "Besides, what if she goes off on her own again?" he asked, tone far-too innocent. "I may never get home."
"In the interest of getting you home safe," Ianto said, faking a tone of reluctance in his voice. Jack's mouth twitched up a little in amusement and Ianto knew he'd been found out.
"Well then." Jack swung himself up onto Janet and patting her neck. "Gonna behave now?"
Ianto whistled for Myfanwy, laughing when she nuzzled his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps. He kissed her nose before hoisting himself up. "Lead the way, sir."
"Jack!" the other man ordered with a laugh, clicking his tongue at Janet and bouncing a little as she started moving.
"Where is home for you, Jack?" Ianto asked, flicking the reins and urging Myfanwy to follow.
Jack turned to look at him over his shoulder. "Torchwood House."
Chapter One: The Tailor's Son
Date Written: 8/16/08
Rating: PG/K+
Word Count: 1,550
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Ianto, Jack, Adam Smith (TW), Suzie Costello (mentioned, TW), Clive Finch (DW), unnamed OCs
Spoilers: Sort of for TW 02 & DW 04, mostly 4th wall references
Warnings: AU like whoa
Author's Notes: No idea where this one came from... and no idea how long it's going to end up being. So bear with, okay?
Book cover by et_muse
"But there's no such thing as magic!"
"Well, it's just a different sort of science. You lot, you chose mathematics. Given the right string of numbers, the right equation, you can split the atom. Carrionites use words instead."
--Martha Jones and the Doctor, The Shakespeare Code
It's the simple things, the little moments that can completely throw your life off the course it's firmly been set on.
For Ianto Jones, it had been something as simple as offering help with a stubborn horse.
His day had started normally enough, the way it had for the past twenty-two years of his life. He was up with the sun and out in the stable, feeding and caring for the family's horses. Once he'd taken care of those chores he'd gone in for breakfast with his parents and younger sister. His brother came in shortly after they'd cleared the table, wife and baby in tow. Ianto and his sister had made faces at the baby, making him laugh until their mother scolded them to get on with their work.
He helped his father and brother open the family's shop, then split his time between helping clients in the front and helping his mother and sisters with the spinning and the weaving and the care of his now-walking nephew. He'd been showing the boy how to use the spinning wheel, guiding pudgy baby fingers through the soft wool when his father came into the workroom, habitually smoothing his mustache with his fingers. "Ianto, I need you to go down to the cobbler's for the Costello shoes. Then you need to go fetch some more of those silver buttons we bought last week from Finchy. Apparently, some of those folks up in the Torchwood House like them, so now everyone wants them."
He gave his younger son a bag of gold pieces and sent him on his way. Myfanwy, the horse he'd raised from a colt, had been very happy to see him, full of restless impatience as Ianto had saddled her up and tugged the reins, leading her to the cobbler's first.
The cobbler's was only a few shops down from the tailor shop his family ran, but he stopped there first. The cobbler himself was a kindly older man (although he didn't speak much), but his apprentice Adam unnerved Ianto for some reason he couldn't quite suss out. Most people got unnerved by his yellowish-red hair, but for Ianto it was his eyes, far too cold and calculating for a cobbler. He smiled politely when Adam handed over the shoes his father had commissioned for Miss Costello, but didn't linger the way he would have if it had been his master.
Finchy, the trader his family worked with, actually worked in the next town over, a good half-hour's ride. Myfanwy had thoroughly enjoyed the ride, running nearly flat out and making it to the shop in record time. The trader's name was really Clive Finch, and he was a jolly man always so full of fantastic stories that never failed to make Ianto laugh.
"You watch out for those lads up in that Torchwood House," he warned when Ianto had told him why they needed more buttons. "You know what I think about those folk."
"Yes sir," Ianto intoned, rolling his eyes. Finchy had great, wonderful, fantastic stories, but most of them were completely mad. Most of them involved some sort of grand scheme from the Torchwood House to take over the world.
Finchy talked him into staying for lunch, so he got off a bit later than he'd wanted. Myfanwy was in the mood for a more leisurely stroll back home and Ianto indulged her. The day was nice and warm, not a cloud in the sky, and the sun tingled on his face and arms. He was reluctant to go back, to spending the rest of the day cooped up with dark fabric hanging on walls and the clicking sound of spinning wheels and weaving looms.
A voice pulled his attention away from his introspective. Ianto looked up, finally noticing a man standing in the middle of the road, swearing at his horse. The mare was sullenly ignoring him, digging her hind legs in whenever her rider would tug on the reins. She tossed her head and he stumbled back, falling on his rear in the dusty road. The horse tossed her head again and let out a whinny, obviously laughing as her owner started swearing up a storm.
Ianto laughed as well, slowing Myfanwy down to a stop. The man glared up at him with blue eyes, a streak of dirt across the bridge of his nose and his long brown hair beginning to come unbound. "Sorry mate," Ianto said, swinging himself out of his saddle. "But I think you're going about things the wrong way."
"Oh, by all means," the man replied, sarcasm heavy in his words. The other's voice was smooth and oddly accented. Ianto noted it, tried to place it briefly before dismissing it. Wales was a haven for all sorts, and the impression he got from the stranger was one of annoyance but not of danger.
Ianto spared a glance at Myfanwy, who was busily contenting herself with a quick chew of the grass growing off the side of the road before turning to the other horse. The horse turned to regard him. "Now, why are you being so mean?" Ianto admonished, wagging a finger at him the same way he'd done to his nephew earlier in the day when he'd upset a basket of yarn. "I'm sure you have somewhere else you'd rather be."
He stepped forward cautiously, grabbing her reins in a loose hold. When she didn't react, he took another step closer, put a hand on her nose. "Now, Janet, that's a good girl." He rubbed her nose with a thumb, running a hand up between her wide-spaced eyes. "Don't you want to go home? I'm sure you have a nice brush waiting, maybe something to eat?" he coaxed. Something else in her demeanor changed. She was considering it. "Sounds like a good idea, yeah? Now, let's be a good girl." He leaned in and kissed her nose before turning to the other man.
"There. Sorted."
He'd picked himself up off the ground and brushed the dirt off his dark blue riding coat, staring at him in amazement and looking terribly familiar. It took Ianto another moment to realize he'd been in the shop about two weeks previously. "How'd you do that?" he asked.
Ianto shrugged, trying to put a name with a face and momentarily lost. "Always had a knack with animals." And children, it turned out, since he was one of three people who his nephew actually obeyed. He handed the reins over. "She'll listen to you now."
"Huh." The man crossed his arms across his chest and the name appeared like magic. Jack Harkness. He'd personally sewn the jacket the man was wearing, the measurements flicking through his head. "Where do I know you from?"
"You were at my father's shop recently, Mr. Harkness," Ianto said, giving a polite smile. Oh, his father would be pleased to hear about this. He'd inadvertently given the shop's reputation a boost.
"Oh, so you're one of the sons in Jones and Sons then?" Harkness smiled and Ianto found himself smiling back. "Yan-toe, right?"
"Close enough, sir."
"Jack, please."
Ianto nodded his head. "Jack."
"So. Tell me one more thing, Yan-toe." He patted Janet's neck affectionately, fixing him with a probing look. "How'd you know her name?"
Ianto looked at the horse, then to Harkness -- Jack. "You must have mentioned it."
Jack's smile widened and he shook his head. "I didn't."
Ianto looked back at the horse, putting a hand on her flank. "I don't know," he finally admitted. "Barbara just doesn't seem right."
He threw his head back and laughed, and Ianto liked that laugh. It was loud and brash and filled the entire sky. And infectious, and Ianto found himself chuckling along.
"You need to come back with me," Jack said once their laughter died down. "You deserve some sort of compensation. For your help."
"Oh, no, I couldn't," Ianto replied, shaking his head. The idea was enticing and polite, but he just couldn't. "It's just a little help, I'm sure you would have done the same."
"For you I would have turned around," Jack replied.
Ianto surprised himself by flushing.
"Come with me," Jack insisted.
"I have to be getting back," Ianto replied. "I'm expected."
"I don't think they'll mind if you're only a little tardy," he persisted, leaning in close to Ianto, in his personal space. "Besides, what if she goes off on her own again?" he asked, tone far-too innocent. "I may never get home."
"In the interest of getting you home safe," Ianto said, faking a tone of reluctance in his voice. Jack's mouth twitched up a little in amusement and Ianto knew he'd been found out.
"Well then." Jack swung himself up onto Janet and patting her neck. "Gonna behave now?"
Ianto whistled for Myfanwy, laughing when she nuzzled his shoulder hard enough to make him stumble forward a few steps. He kissed her nose before hoisting himself up. "Lead the way, sir."
"Jack!" the other man ordered with a laugh, clicking his tongue at Janet and bouncing a little as she started moving.
"Where is home for you, Jack?" Ianto asked, flicking the reins and urging Myfanwy to follow.
Jack turned to look at him over his shoulder. "Torchwood House."