Different Kind of Magic -- Plus One
Title: Different Kind of Magic
Chapter Nineteen: Plus One
Date Written: 12/23/09
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 2,989
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Ianto/Jack, Sister Hame (DW), Bilis Manger (TW), Ross/Harriet (DW)
Spoilers: Doctor Who up through Season 04, Torchwood up through 02, Different Sort of Science and To Days To Come.
Warnings: AU like whoa, language and massive shock.
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my gorgeous betas totally4ryo and katestamps, who are my sounding boards, my muses, and all-around fantastic girls. Strap in, kids, this fic's about to take off.
Previous chapters found here.
Book cover by et_muse
"Someone tried to move the Earth once before. Long time ago... Can't be."
-- The Doctor, The Stolen Earth
"A ritualistic washing? I had no idea you were so devout, Mr. Jones."
Ianto looked up towards the voice, catching a glimpse of a veiled, white-robed figure in the doorway. "Not so much devout as practical, I'm afraid," he replied, smiling and setting the rag he was using back in the washbowl. The young Mage dried his hands on the hips of his pants carelessly as he crossed the floor to the newcomer. "I know that voice," he teased.
A quiet laugh came from underneath the veil as he lifted it to see the owner's face. Slanted, exotic-looking blue eyes met his and Ianto chuckled. "Sister Hame," he greeted, hugging her close for a moment. "I'd hoped that it would be you."
The priestess hugged him back, patting his shoulders affectionately. "Of course I was going to come," she replied. "Your Mr. Hopper requested me specifically."
"Only because you charmed the House when you did my niece's Dedication ceremony," Ianto replied, pulling back to look at her properly. Hame smiled back, her deeply-tanned and freckled face split with a brilliant stripe of white teeth. Ianto took a deep breath, reveling momentarily in the reverent peace that seemed to follow the Sisters of Plenitude. "It is good to see you, Sister," he repeated. "Even under these unfortunate circumstances."
"I wasn't told much," Hame said as Ianto released her. "Just that poor Mr. Manger has found his peace. But I did see your Jack outside, looking none too pleased."
"It's a bit more complicated than that," the Mage said, leading the woman over to the bed where Manger's body lay. "And more gruesome, which is why I'd hoped for you. It would be easier to explain to a familiar face."
"Oh my Goddess!" the Sister exclaimed when she finally got a look at Bilis Manger's corpse, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. After her initial shock passed, she reached out with the same hand and faintly traced one of the many long-branded designs with one long fingernail. "Who did this to the poor man?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Ianto had to clear his throat before answering her. Here was a woman who'd maybe met Manger once, but she was showing more emotion over his death than Ianto himself. It made his own mind whirl with unpleasant personal opinions and he squashed them down before he got lost in them. "Um, we're... We're not sure, to be honest. He never made mention of them, and many look to be self-inflicted. Over many years."
"Do they have some special sort of significance?" the priestess asked, pulling the veil off of her head and revealing a shock of caramel-colored hair.
Ianto blinked at seeing a priestess completely unveiled for the first time. after a moment, though, he answered. "I'm sure they meant the world to him," the dark-haired man replied. "But we're lost on what most of them mean. We're sketching them," he said, walking around the bed to pick up a stack of parchment, "and hopefully we'll figure out what it all means."
"This looks much more recent," Hame said neutrally, running her fingers through the ashen markings on Manger's body. Ianto watched the priestess' fingers erase a capital B in the name "Bilis".
The Mage flinched, despite the non-judging tone of voice. "It's a poor excuse, but Jack has been... stretched thin as of late. Manger almost killed Rhys, and threatened to kill everyone else. Jack just... He just lost it. Torchwood House and everyone in it is his family."
"So he wrote his name over and over in fireplace ashes?" the Sister asked, looking up at him and raising curious eyebrows.
"Your own doctrine, Sister," Ianto replied. "The Void is where we go to forget our actions in this life and be reborn. Jack figured that marking Bilis with his name would make him remember longer." Hame look horrified at the very idea, so he quickly added, "He almost used a knife. I had to physically take his blades. I figured ash would be easy enough to wash away," he added, setting down the pages and picking up the washcloth again. He wrung the excess water out, drops of dirty gray splashing into the bowl. "Jack needed to let out a touch of vindictiveness, get a bit of betrayal. And when he feels bad later, after his anger has abated, I can let him know that the body was washed."
Hame cocked her head to the side. "You're always watching after him, aren't you?"
"Of course," Ianto replied instantly, running the wet cloth over cold skin, leaving just white unblemished and red scar skin in its wake. "I watch after all of them. It's my job as Second."
"Even Mr. Manger," she pointed out, holding out her hand for her own cloth.
Ianto shook his head, handing over a wet cloth. "I reckon he's got enough to remember."
-----
Ianto smiled softly to himself as his fingers moved steadily through the loom with an ease born of long practice. He could hear Harriet putting Ellie down for an afternoon nap just down the hall, the little girl babbling away happily, her words just on the edge of actually making sense.
"Glad to see that you remember what to do," Ross's voice teased from the doorway.
The young Mage grinned and didn't look up. "I could still probably do this in my sleep."
"Good!" Ross clapped him on the shoulders, leaning over to talk in his ear. "Come home when it gets dark, and we'll put you to good use!"
Ianto rolled his eyes but grinned fondly. Ross pulled up a chair next to him, the two brothers sitting quietly in the almost-silence of the room. After a few minutes, Ross asked the question that had been looming since Ianto stepped through the door.
"How's the House?"
Ianto shook his head. "Reeling. All of us. They keep pulling together to support each other but..."
Ross followed the lost line of thought. "But you needed to put some space in between yourself and their grief?" When Ianto nodded and ducked his head guiltily, his brother leaned over and ruffled his hair affectionately. "With your Primary, no one will fault you. And you know you're always welcome here."
The younger Jones brother chuckled and nodded. "Just as you are always welcome at the House."
"Good to know. The next time Harriet and I have a row, I'll come bunk with you lot."
"Sounds like a good plan," Ianto agreed. The quiet clicking noise of the loom filled the room as the two lapsed into a friendly silence, occasionally broken by the quiet shlick of Ross using sewing shears. The two were still silently working when Harriet appeared in the room, bearing three mugs of sweet wine on a little serving tray. She kissed Ianto fondly on the forehead as she set his glass by his chair before moving to the spinning wheel.
Harriet didn't much like working quietly, but her chatter about customers and her own kin and gossip reported to her from talkative friends was pleasant enough. Ianto answered her with appropriate answers at appropriate places, but chuckled when she admitted to being a little scared when Lumic had driven through town on his way to Capitol.
"He's nice enough, honestly," Ianto insisted. "A little... odd I'll admit, but he's come a long way."
"It wasn't the man that upset me!" she insisted, her voice raised to talk over the clacking of the wheel. "It was that..." She shuddered. "That thing that was driving it. What was it?"
"Well, the official name for it is homunculus, but it's really just a little harmless, soulless mud doll. It needs a suit of armor to be contained, for crying out loud."
"Harmless, Pythia's tit," Harriet snorted.
"Goddess, woman!" both men exclaimed at the uncharacteristic swear, two dark heads snapping up from their work.
"You didn't see it, Ross," she insisted. "It had eyes. It looked at me."
"She's been having nightmares over it," the older Jones told his brother. His face told Ianto that Ross was clearly trying to resist rolling his eyes. "Is there something you can do?"
Even without his Primary in full effect, he would have done what Ross asked. Calming herbs and droughts flew through his mind. "I can figure something out to help you sleep better for now," he reassured his sister-in-law, "and I'll ask Owen about something for the nightmares." He gave her a teasing grin. "They're unfounded, Hair. You're just prejudiced because Lumic's hard on your son at the House."
John Lumic, when he wasn't studying alchemy with Toshiko and Idris, was teaching archery and swordplay along with Jack and Ianto, who often had House duties and no time to teach. Lumic was a strict, almost bordering on unfair instructor -- and little Ross was a Jones through and through. The trained soldier in Lumic didn't much like the free spirit that was Ianto's nephew and tried to get the boy to toe the line.
"I am not -- well, okay, maybe a little," she admitted, giving a little bit of a laugh. It was high and a touch nervous, but she picked up her spinning again. "I'm just saying that you two didn't see the way that Lumic man was looking at that armor gauntlet he was holding."
-----
Lumic was gone for two whole weeks. Ianto almost felt bad for being grateful that they were down one demanding Mage.
The House was still in disarray with the death of Bilis Manger, who, when he wasn't off being a complete and utter madman, some managed the day-to-day intricacies of running the House practically by himself. Ianto, as Second, oversaw Manger's work, but Manger did it all. He broke up arguments between maids. He got lazy servants to do a good day's work. He dictated how everything was to be arranged, from the bedding to the menu for dinner to the way the napkins were folded.
It really was brilliant, Ianto had to admit. He'd made himself indispensable and without him they were lost. It was his final revenge.
After the first panicked half day, Ianto had ordered everyone to do what they'd normally done -- what Manger told them to do every day -- and did damage control amongst the staff morale. It worked out well enough at first, but by the end of the second week it was becoming glaringly obvious that they needed another House manager. Ianto couldn't do that and his duties as Second.
Jack sighed and put his head on his desk with a loud thonk when Ianto announced this at teatime. "I can't think of anyone," the young Mage admitted, looking at the crown of his lover's head. "Do you have any ideas?"
Jack's head rolled from side to side in negative.
"Can we just cry uncle and make the Doctor and Donna come back?" Ianto joked.
Jack chuckled. "That's who we need! Call my overbearing aunt back here. She'll whip everyone into shape. I'll even deal with her bitching."
Ianto grinned, but then remembered something. "Hey. I have an overbearing aunt."
"Oh?" Jack lifted his head, a slight red mark on his forehead. "Is she as pretty as mine?"
The Second lifted a mock scolding eyebrow. "She's not really my aunt, she's Ross'. Harriet's got a sister, Rhiannon."
"Is she a shrew?" the Time Lord asked.
Ianto knew he didn't mean it as an insult. They needed a hard ass to come in and whip everyone into shape, like how Martha had pulled Donna out of her funk. "She can be. You should hear her order her children about."
The Head of Torchwood House nodded a little bit. Ianto could practically see the pitching being worked out in his lover's head. "Do you trust her?"
The question made the young Mage pause. It was a prudent question to task. "Her, yes. She and Harriet are a lot alike."
"Like how you and Ross are a lot alike?" Jack teased a little. The Doctor had asked if they were twins after seeing the two Jones brothers together for five minutes.
"More so," Ianto replied back easily, grinning. "Her, I trust. Her husband, not so much."
Jack nodded. "What's he like?"
"A drunken bastard," the Second replied honestly.
"Violent?"
Ianto shook his head. "Ross would kill him if he was," he admitted. "That's our sister. He's just lazy and spends almost all their money on alcohol."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Well, maybe some time without his wife and kids will change his tune. And if not... then she'll be better off."
Ianto leaned over the desk and kissed Jack's forehead. "Have I mentioned lately how much I love the way you think?"
The older man tilted his face up, silently asking for a proper kiss. "Not lately."
"Well, I do," the young Mage said with a fond chuckle, pressing his mouth softly against Jack's.
The crafty man immediately grabbed at the front of his lover's shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. "Why don't you show me how much you love the way I think?"
"Oooh, naughty boy," Ianto chastised, grinning at the way Jack shivered against him when his voice dropped an octave. "Suggesting such a thing while the door's unlocked. Anyone could burst in here."
As if summoned, the door flew open and Owen burst into the room. He paused for a moment when he saw the two lovers. "Oh, please, lock the bloody door next time."
"Excuse you," Jack replied. "Learn to knock."
"Get a room!"
"This is my room," the immortal argued back. "In fact, this entire estate is mine and if I want to molest my lover, I will do so. And leave the door unlocked if I so choose!"
Ianto didn't even try to resist rolling his eyes. "Yes, Owen? What is it?"
The Healer met Ianto's eye roll with one of his own. "John Lumic's back from Capitol."
Jack sighed and stood. "With a message for me, no doubt."
"Yeah. And a friend."
Both Ianto and Jack paused. "He's got a plus one?" the Head of Torchwood House looked over at his Second. "Did we give him that power?"
"He claimed that you wouldn't mind," Owen said. "His friend's an Alchemist as well."
"That makes him one of us," Ianto surmised.
"Which means we don't mind," Jack admitted. "Well, let's go meet this mystery guest of ours."
Owen pulled Ianto back a little as the three of them headed towards the main hall. "We'll need a ground level room, preferably one by my quarters or by the infirmary," the brown-haired Healer informed the Second.
"Okay." Ianto began wracking his brains, trying to remember what was avaliable and who could move the easiest if asked. "Is he sickly?"
"Old," Owen corrected. "We'll have to make him another one of those wheeled chair things that Lumic uses, although I don't know if he could even push the thing about."
"Old people will surprise you," Jack said over his shoulder, pushing the doors open. Brilliant daylight spilled down over them, temporarily blinding Ianto. He paused and put his hand up over his eyes, waiting for his vision to adjust.
"He would know," Owen muttered, stopping as well and blinking owlishly against the light. The off-the-cuff statement made Ianto snort in amusement. "I don't know what to make of our strange new man," he continued. "He doesn't seem to be all that fond of me."
"Well, he can't be all that bad, then," Ianto teased, lowering his hand. He could finally make out the shape that Idris was carefully lowering into a spare wheelchair that they kept for Lumic.
Owen had missed the mark when he described the man as old -- he was closer to ancient. His face was so heavily lined that Ianto could barely make out basic facial features, and his eyes so sunken it almost looked like he didn't have any at all, just empty, all-seeing sockets. He folded gnarled, stiff hands in his lap as he was settled into his chair. Hostility flowed out from him like a dark wave, cloaking him in even more shadow. Making him look even older, if that was possible.
Jack leaned over and touched the man's shoulder, and Ianto had to force down a sudden strange urge to lash out when he saw the man flinch. He rubbed at his eyes and looked again, and suddenly, it was gone. The pure malice that had been surrounding this man had just... vanished.
This was silly. He had to be tired. That must be it. He was tired and stressed and taking it out on a poor man that had no idea what was going on, another person to figure out what to do with. Jack just hadn't been as gentle as he thought he'd been on the fragile form.
His lover was carefully wheeling the man across the lawn, leaving Tosh and Idris behind to help Lumic out of the carriage. Ianto put on his best smile as Jack eased the chair up the low ramp to the front doors. "And this is Ianto Jones, our Second," Jack introduced. "You already know Healer Harper."
Ianto dipped his head in greeting, bowing down just a little to get down on their newest guest's eye level. He held out a hand. "I hope your trip here wasn't too taxing, Mister ... " He let the sentence trail off so the man could introduce himself.
The hand that gripped his was far stronger than he'd expected from someone so ancient; the skeletal grip was almost like a death grasp. Ianto was sure that something must have showed in his face, because the wrinkles in the aged face shifted into what had to be a smile.
"You can call me Davros, Mage," he wheezed, his voice dusty from disuse. "Just Davros."
Chapter Nineteen: Plus One
Date Written: 12/23/09
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 2,989
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Ianto/Jack, Sister Hame (DW), Bilis Manger (TW), Ross/Harriet (DW)
Spoilers: Doctor Who up through Season 04, Torchwood up through 02, Different Sort of Science and To Days To Come.
Warnings: AU like whoa, language and massive shock.
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my gorgeous betas totally4ryo and katestamps, who are my sounding boards, my muses, and all-around fantastic girls. Strap in, kids, this fic's about to take off.
Previous chapters found here.
Book cover by et_muse
"Someone tried to move the Earth once before. Long time ago... Can't be."
-- The Doctor, The Stolen Earth
"A ritualistic washing? I had no idea you were so devout, Mr. Jones."
Ianto looked up towards the voice, catching a glimpse of a veiled, white-robed figure in the doorway. "Not so much devout as practical, I'm afraid," he replied, smiling and setting the rag he was using back in the washbowl. The young Mage dried his hands on the hips of his pants carelessly as he crossed the floor to the newcomer. "I know that voice," he teased.
A quiet laugh came from underneath the veil as he lifted it to see the owner's face. Slanted, exotic-looking blue eyes met his and Ianto chuckled. "Sister Hame," he greeted, hugging her close for a moment. "I'd hoped that it would be you."
The priestess hugged him back, patting his shoulders affectionately. "Of course I was going to come," she replied. "Your Mr. Hopper requested me specifically."
"Only because you charmed the House when you did my niece's Dedication ceremony," Ianto replied, pulling back to look at her properly. Hame smiled back, her deeply-tanned and freckled face split with a brilliant stripe of white teeth. Ianto took a deep breath, reveling momentarily in the reverent peace that seemed to follow the Sisters of Plenitude. "It is good to see you, Sister," he repeated. "Even under these unfortunate circumstances."
"I wasn't told much," Hame said as Ianto released her. "Just that poor Mr. Manger has found his peace. But I did see your Jack outside, looking none too pleased."
"It's a bit more complicated than that," the Mage said, leading the woman over to the bed where Manger's body lay. "And more gruesome, which is why I'd hoped for you. It would be easier to explain to a familiar face."
"Oh my Goddess!" the Sister exclaimed when she finally got a look at Bilis Manger's corpse, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. After her initial shock passed, she reached out with the same hand and faintly traced one of the many long-branded designs with one long fingernail. "Who did this to the poor man?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Ianto had to clear his throat before answering her. Here was a woman who'd maybe met Manger once, but she was showing more emotion over his death than Ianto himself. It made his own mind whirl with unpleasant personal opinions and he squashed them down before he got lost in them. "Um, we're... We're not sure, to be honest. He never made mention of them, and many look to be self-inflicted. Over many years."
"Do they have some special sort of significance?" the priestess asked, pulling the veil off of her head and revealing a shock of caramel-colored hair.
Ianto blinked at seeing a priestess completely unveiled for the first time. after a moment, though, he answered. "I'm sure they meant the world to him," the dark-haired man replied. "But we're lost on what most of them mean. We're sketching them," he said, walking around the bed to pick up a stack of parchment, "and hopefully we'll figure out what it all means."
"This looks much more recent," Hame said neutrally, running her fingers through the ashen markings on Manger's body. Ianto watched the priestess' fingers erase a capital B in the name "Bilis".
The Mage flinched, despite the non-judging tone of voice. "It's a poor excuse, but Jack has been... stretched thin as of late. Manger almost killed Rhys, and threatened to kill everyone else. Jack just... He just lost it. Torchwood House and everyone in it is his family."
"So he wrote his name over and over in fireplace ashes?" the Sister asked, looking up at him and raising curious eyebrows.
"Your own doctrine, Sister," Ianto replied. "The Void is where we go to forget our actions in this life and be reborn. Jack figured that marking Bilis with his name would make him remember longer." Hame look horrified at the very idea, so he quickly added, "He almost used a knife. I had to physically take his blades. I figured ash would be easy enough to wash away," he added, setting down the pages and picking up the washcloth again. He wrung the excess water out, drops of dirty gray splashing into the bowl. "Jack needed to let out a touch of vindictiveness, get a bit of betrayal. And when he feels bad later, after his anger has abated, I can let him know that the body was washed."
Hame cocked her head to the side. "You're always watching after him, aren't you?"
"Of course," Ianto replied instantly, running the wet cloth over cold skin, leaving just white unblemished and red scar skin in its wake. "I watch after all of them. It's my job as Second."
"Even Mr. Manger," she pointed out, holding out her hand for her own cloth.
Ianto shook his head, handing over a wet cloth. "I reckon he's got enough to remember."
-----
Ianto smiled softly to himself as his fingers moved steadily through the loom with an ease born of long practice. He could hear Harriet putting Ellie down for an afternoon nap just down the hall, the little girl babbling away happily, her words just on the edge of actually making sense.
"Glad to see that you remember what to do," Ross's voice teased from the doorway.
The young Mage grinned and didn't look up. "I could still probably do this in my sleep."
"Good!" Ross clapped him on the shoulders, leaning over to talk in his ear. "Come home when it gets dark, and we'll put you to good use!"
Ianto rolled his eyes but grinned fondly. Ross pulled up a chair next to him, the two brothers sitting quietly in the almost-silence of the room. After a few minutes, Ross asked the question that had been looming since Ianto stepped through the door.
"How's the House?"
Ianto shook his head. "Reeling. All of us. They keep pulling together to support each other but..."
Ross followed the lost line of thought. "But you needed to put some space in between yourself and their grief?" When Ianto nodded and ducked his head guiltily, his brother leaned over and ruffled his hair affectionately. "With your Primary, no one will fault you. And you know you're always welcome here."
The younger Jones brother chuckled and nodded. "Just as you are always welcome at the House."
"Good to know. The next time Harriet and I have a row, I'll come bunk with you lot."
"Sounds like a good plan," Ianto agreed. The quiet clicking noise of the loom filled the room as the two lapsed into a friendly silence, occasionally broken by the quiet shlick of Ross using sewing shears. The two were still silently working when Harriet appeared in the room, bearing three mugs of sweet wine on a little serving tray. She kissed Ianto fondly on the forehead as she set his glass by his chair before moving to the spinning wheel.
Harriet didn't much like working quietly, but her chatter about customers and her own kin and gossip reported to her from talkative friends was pleasant enough. Ianto answered her with appropriate answers at appropriate places, but chuckled when she admitted to being a little scared when Lumic had driven through town on his way to Capitol.
"He's nice enough, honestly," Ianto insisted. "A little... odd I'll admit, but he's come a long way."
"It wasn't the man that upset me!" she insisted, her voice raised to talk over the clacking of the wheel. "It was that..." She shuddered. "That thing that was driving it. What was it?"
"Well, the official name for it is homunculus, but it's really just a little harmless, soulless mud doll. It needs a suit of armor to be contained, for crying out loud."
"Harmless, Pythia's tit," Harriet snorted.
"Goddess, woman!" both men exclaimed at the uncharacteristic swear, two dark heads snapping up from their work.
"You didn't see it, Ross," she insisted. "It had eyes. It looked at me."
"She's been having nightmares over it," the older Jones told his brother. His face told Ianto that Ross was clearly trying to resist rolling his eyes. "Is there something you can do?"
Even without his Primary in full effect, he would have done what Ross asked. Calming herbs and droughts flew through his mind. "I can figure something out to help you sleep better for now," he reassured his sister-in-law, "and I'll ask Owen about something for the nightmares." He gave her a teasing grin. "They're unfounded, Hair. You're just prejudiced because Lumic's hard on your son at the House."
John Lumic, when he wasn't studying alchemy with Toshiko and Idris, was teaching archery and swordplay along with Jack and Ianto, who often had House duties and no time to teach. Lumic was a strict, almost bordering on unfair instructor -- and little Ross was a Jones through and through. The trained soldier in Lumic didn't much like the free spirit that was Ianto's nephew and tried to get the boy to toe the line.
"I am not -- well, okay, maybe a little," she admitted, giving a little bit of a laugh. It was high and a touch nervous, but she picked up her spinning again. "I'm just saying that you two didn't see the way that Lumic man was looking at that armor gauntlet he was holding."
-----
Lumic was gone for two whole weeks. Ianto almost felt bad for being grateful that they were down one demanding Mage.
The House was still in disarray with the death of Bilis Manger, who, when he wasn't off being a complete and utter madman, some managed the day-to-day intricacies of running the House practically by himself. Ianto, as Second, oversaw Manger's work, but Manger did it all. He broke up arguments between maids. He got lazy servants to do a good day's work. He dictated how everything was to be arranged, from the bedding to the menu for dinner to the way the napkins were folded.
It really was brilliant, Ianto had to admit. He'd made himself indispensable and without him they were lost. It was his final revenge.
After the first panicked half day, Ianto had ordered everyone to do what they'd normally done -- what Manger told them to do every day -- and did damage control amongst the staff morale. It worked out well enough at first, but by the end of the second week it was becoming glaringly obvious that they needed another House manager. Ianto couldn't do that and his duties as Second.
Jack sighed and put his head on his desk with a loud thonk when Ianto announced this at teatime. "I can't think of anyone," the young Mage admitted, looking at the crown of his lover's head. "Do you have any ideas?"
Jack's head rolled from side to side in negative.
"Can we just cry uncle and make the Doctor and Donna come back?" Ianto joked.
Jack chuckled. "That's who we need! Call my overbearing aunt back here. She'll whip everyone into shape. I'll even deal with her bitching."
Ianto grinned, but then remembered something. "Hey. I have an overbearing aunt."
"Oh?" Jack lifted his head, a slight red mark on his forehead. "Is she as pretty as mine?"
The Second lifted a mock scolding eyebrow. "She's not really my aunt, she's Ross'. Harriet's got a sister, Rhiannon."
"Is she a shrew?" the Time Lord asked.
Ianto knew he didn't mean it as an insult. They needed a hard ass to come in and whip everyone into shape, like how Martha had pulled Donna out of her funk. "She can be. You should hear her order her children about."
The Head of Torchwood House nodded a little bit. Ianto could practically see the pitching being worked out in his lover's head. "Do you trust her?"
The question made the young Mage pause. It was a prudent question to task. "Her, yes. She and Harriet are a lot alike."
"Like how you and Ross are a lot alike?" Jack teased a little. The Doctor had asked if they were twins after seeing the two Jones brothers together for five minutes.
"More so," Ianto replied back easily, grinning. "Her, I trust. Her husband, not so much."
Jack nodded. "What's he like?"
"A drunken bastard," the Second replied honestly.
"Violent?"
Ianto shook his head. "Ross would kill him if he was," he admitted. "That's our sister. He's just lazy and spends almost all their money on alcohol."
Jack nodded thoughtfully. "Well, maybe some time without his wife and kids will change his tune. And if not... then she'll be better off."
Ianto leaned over the desk and kissed Jack's forehead. "Have I mentioned lately how much I love the way you think?"
The older man tilted his face up, silently asking for a proper kiss. "Not lately."
"Well, I do," the young Mage said with a fond chuckle, pressing his mouth softly against Jack's.
The crafty man immediately grabbed at the front of his lover's shirt, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. "Why don't you show me how much you love the way I think?"
"Oooh, naughty boy," Ianto chastised, grinning at the way Jack shivered against him when his voice dropped an octave. "Suggesting such a thing while the door's unlocked. Anyone could burst in here."
As if summoned, the door flew open and Owen burst into the room. He paused for a moment when he saw the two lovers. "Oh, please, lock the bloody door next time."
"Excuse you," Jack replied. "Learn to knock."
"Get a room!"
"This is my room," the immortal argued back. "In fact, this entire estate is mine and if I want to molest my lover, I will do so. And leave the door unlocked if I so choose!"
Ianto didn't even try to resist rolling his eyes. "Yes, Owen? What is it?"
The Healer met Ianto's eye roll with one of his own. "John Lumic's back from Capitol."
Jack sighed and stood. "With a message for me, no doubt."
"Yeah. And a friend."
Both Ianto and Jack paused. "He's got a plus one?" the Head of Torchwood House looked over at his Second. "Did we give him that power?"
"He claimed that you wouldn't mind," Owen said. "His friend's an Alchemist as well."
"That makes him one of us," Ianto surmised.
"Which means we don't mind," Jack admitted. "Well, let's go meet this mystery guest of ours."
Owen pulled Ianto back a little as the three of them headed towards the main hall. "We'll need a ground level room, preferably one by my quarters or by the infirmary," the brown-haired Healer informed the Second.
"Okay." Ianto began wracking his brains, trying to remember what was avaliable and who could move the easiest if asked. "Is he sickly?"
"Old," Owen corrected. "We'll have to make him another one of those wheeled chair things that Lumic uses, although I don't know if he could even push the thing about."
"Old people will surprise you," Jack said over his shoulder, pushing the doors open. Brilliant daylight spilled down over them, temporarily blinding Ianto. He paused and put his hand up over his eyes, waiting for his vision to adjust.
"He would know," Owen muttered, stopping as well and blinking owlishly against the light. The off-the-cuff statement made Ianto snort in amusement. "I don't know what to make of our strange new man," he continued. "He doesn't seem to be all that fond of me."
"Well, he can't be all that bad, then," Ianto teased, lowering his hand. He could finally make out the shape that Idris was carefully lowering into a spare wheelchair that they kept for Lumic.
Owen had missed the mark when he described the man as old -- he was closer to ancient. His face was so heavily lined that Ianto could barely make out basic facial features, and his eyes so sunken it almost looked like he didn't have any at all, just empty, all-seeing sockets. He folded gnarled, stiff hands in his lap as he was settled into his chair. Hostility flowed out from him like a dark wave, cloaking him in even more shadow. Making him look even older, if that was possible.
Jack leaned over and touched the man's shoulder, and Ianto had to force down a sudden strange urge to lash out when he saw the man flinch. He rubbed at his eyes and looked again, and suddenly, it was gone. The pure malice that had been surrounding this man had just... vanished.
This was silly. He had to be tired. That must be it. He was tired and stressed and taking it out on a poor man that had no idea what was going on, another person to figure out what to do with. Jack just hadn't been as gentle as he thought he'd been on the fragile form.
His lover was carefully wheeling the man across the lawn, leaving Tosh and Idris behind to help Lumic out of the carriage. Ianto put on his best smile as Jack eased the chair up the low ramp to the front doors. "And this is Ianto Jones, our Second," Jack introduced. "You already know Healer Harper."
Ianto dipped his head in greeting, bowing down just a little to get down on their newest guest's eye level. He held out a hand. "I hope your trip here wasn't too taxing, Mister ... " He let the sentence trail off so the man could introduce himself.
The hand that gripped his was far stronger than he'd expected from someone so ancient; the skeletal grip was almost like a death grasp. Ianto was sure that something must have showed in his face, because the wrinkles in the aged face shifted into what had to be a smile.
"You can call me Davros, Mage," he wheezed, his voice dusty from disuse. "Just Davros."