The Windhovers: The Fledgling (2 of 4), Jack/Ianto
Title: The Fledgling
Series 'Verse: The Windhovers
Chapter: 2 of 4
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1, S2
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien
Summary: "All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them." - Galileo Galilei
A/N: Did you know, "lethologica" is the inability to remember the correct word. I'd offer an explanation for why I felt that important to say, but I can't recall the word I meant to say, so I'll opt for "donut" instead.
Previous Chapters:
The Windhovers: The Beginning(complete)
The Fledgling (1 of 4)
More lovely art by draw_yourworld!
And for those of you who are familiar with "Proof of Your Existence", a gorgeous bonus picture.
Again, you can leave a comment on the artwork here.
On with chapter 2!
***
His method was easy, really. Ianto would pick up multiple files from the section he needed for his archival project -- really nothing more than refiling and re-cataloging the growing set of books, documents and gadgets gathered through the history of Torchwood Three as well as boxes upon boxes of retrieved technology from Torchwood One -which were surrounded by the sections and files that were truly the focus of his "project." He'd mask his actions by replacing the files all at once, burying the ones not sanctioned strictly by Torchwood research amidst the ones for his project.
That was one thing nice about hard copy research. No data trail to wipe.
Ianto searched for everything, from the Windhovers to angels to winged humanoids to the markings and uncovered some nasty creatures that would join his nightmares (Weeping Angels? He was never looking at a stone statue of an angel the same way again). Nothing sounded like what little he knew of himself, and there was no mention of the Windhovers.
None.
At least, so far. He had only really made it through the obvious searches and was beginning on the obscure.
Though he did find out that Lester's species used the third eye in their mating rituals, something his imagination could have done without.
The planet Halcyon turned up only one result that he could find, a mention buried in fabled planets of lore, lending confirmation to his suspicions that the annotation '(d)' in reference to the planet meant 'destroyed' or 'dead'. Of course it would; why would his search be made remotely easy when it was so much more entertaining for fate to fuck with him while dangling tidbits with little to no relevance to his crisis at hand.
He'd been searching for days now, every moment spent in the Archives slogging through reams upon reams of information and nothing within Torchwood was good enough. He could ask Jack, Ianto proposed to himself, but that thought was just as quickly dismissed and filed away with the hundreds of false leads and dead ends.
Ianto did do work on his actual project, his actions appearing for all intents and purposes on the CCTV as within reason and function of his archival project. None of the others asked for details, and Jack just signed off on it without looking at the project specs, leading Ianto to believe he was being humored by permitting him to work on it. An alternate and yet equally viable thought could be that the team might think he was escaping and finding comfort within the stacks of aged tomes and artifacts after his past few months.
Which was in part truth. There was simply something so inherently calming about fingering the old, faded leather-bound books and preserved manuscripts, quite literally touching a history (and a future) that few in the world would ever know.
An alarm pierced Ianto's thoughts, the sound so loud as it bounced off the vaulted ceiling and stone walls encasing the Archives that he flinched reflexively. Internal alarms, his mind quickly proffered, rapidly filtering through all eventualities; an intruder in the Hub. Quickly, he crossed the floor to the far wall, tension winding every muscle to springing point as they waited for the command to fire. It wasn't just nerves, it wasn't fear, there was something more, unexplained, unidentifiable, but certainly there, screaming for attention even as a sense of calm poured over him, beginning in his hair, it felt like, and rinsing over him like he'd stepped under a shower head spraying water. Cool, contrasting with the fiery adrenaline burning through his veins with the rapid pace of his heart.
Knowing his luck, he'd suffer a heart attack in the Archives and die before the invasion ever reached the level.
If he had any luck at all, the intruder would not be a Dalek or Cyberman.
Ianto tapped his earpiece with one hand as the other punched in the code on the panel set into the wall. "Jack?" A portion of the wall slid open, revealing a small cache of weapons. Nothing that would work against a creature of metal, but if the intruder wore flesh, then the handgun might do a little damage. A pitiful defense, but the best he could do within the Archives. Once he got closer to the Hub, he could ascertain the situation and hit the other caches hidden throughout Torchwood Three as well if necessary. Unless, of course, the place went into full lockdown and then what he had would simply have to do. In fact, Ianto was relatively surprised that the place hadn't been -
Silence. The absence of the blaring alarm was almost tactual, his skin feeling lighter without the weight of the alarm pressing against it. His heartbeat took the place of the klaxon, thrumming with the pulse of a tympani measuring cut time. Alla breve.
His mind couldn't make up if time was racing or crawling, or somewhere muddled in the middle. Tucked away in the hollowed halls of the Archives where common time was lost in the history of the past and future, time could have meant anything.
He could have been standing there, staring at the panel with the gun in hand for hours while listening to the silence.
Or maybe just a quantum-second.
"Ianto."
Jack's voice in his ear started Ianto away from the wall, first spinning on his heel towards the door until he realized the voice came from his comm.
He'd have to remember to delete that embarrassing little bit of footage from the CCTV, later, when the present crisis was averted.
"Come up to the Hub, there's someone here I want you to meet."
"Is there a threat to the base?" Ianto waited ten seconds before he scowled as his question was met with no response, not even radio clicks, which only proved to confuse him even more. Jack had sounded almost ... excited ... yet his words had contained none of the Standard Operating Procedure for Base Incursion code words calling off the alarm, or indicating that the threat still existed. In fact, Jack's words were nowhere close to resembling code.
Typical Jack, defying all Rules and Regulations.
Unless it wasn't Jack at all but an impostor unaware of any protocol.
Ianto opted for caution before haste, taking time to tuck a stun gun into a sock and the handgun into the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back. History had taught him well as he crept along the walls, avoiding the internal CCTV monitoring the halls, though avoiding the cameras would hardly have saved him from the Cybermen and Daleks (how he saved himself at Torchwood One he preferred not to think about, in fact, couldn't remember at all). Wasn't difficult to navigate through Torchwood Three; he'd quickly learnt when he'd been taking care of Lisa how to avoid detection as he moved about. Or deliberately place himself at a certain location at a specific time.
He heard Jack's boisterous laughter before he actually saw anyone, a sound that both relieved him and annoyed. On the one hand, the chances that the base was under attack were rapidly dwindling. On the other, it meant Ianto had spent the time since the alarm in a constant state of adrenalin-fueled alertness and coming down off that was going to wreck his evening. Not that he'd had anything planned, but the possibilities would probably be discarded in favor of stumbling into his bedroom and falling face-first on his bed.
Jack could have informed him that there was no threat.
And if it was a guest in the form of one of Jack's old Time Agency buddies a la John Hart, Ianto was going to be especially perturbed. He'd played eye-candy enough for one of Jack's exes.
"Ianto! What took you? I've-"
Whatever Jack said next was lost to the wind as Ianto whipped the gun from his trousers and aimed it on the visitor so instinctively he couldn't remember a conscious thought to arm himself.
Not that he had much conscious thought as information overwhelmed him, tumbling past perception. Not sight and not thought but awareness in a litany of the universe's truths.
Names.
Planets.
Species.
"-Ianto, stand down! He's not-"
"-oh my god-"
"-the fuck did he get a weapon? Put down the gun before-"
"-not Torchwood One! He is not the enemy-"
"-relapse?-"
Ianto heard the commotion and clamor of voices and ignored them just as easily, letting chaos flow right over him and along the straight line of the gun to the man in his sights. With everyone else he'd encountered, it was brief. A moment of awareness of who they were, just a blip upon his consciousness as information he hadn't realized was missing appeared in the blanks.
This ... it kept going. The list kept growing. Names, so many names. People, places and things Ianto didn't recognize, didn't wish to recognize as he ruthlessly shoved aside the deluge of '(d)' annotated charges and allowed the rage to curl about his core.
Rage and distress, confusion and horror.
Fuck, he couldn't breathe.
Struggling to maintain a grip on everything from consciousness to physical form (and oh how instinctively he wanted to go back to his winged state and embrace fury as his body, mind, hell, spirit if there was one kept demanding), Ianto shook off the touch which had fallen on his arm. When the touch returned, he may have growled at the person.
He'd never admit to it, and CCTV didn't capture sound so there would be no physical evidence.
His eyes never left the man in front of him, half an eye down the sight of the gun to ensure a true aim. The man who made no attempt to move or even protest the threat of the weapon.
The Doctor.
The alias itself made Ianto's hands shake, not in fear but as a body physically battered by contrary information. Ianto knew the Doctor had played a role at Torchwood One and the defeat of the Cybermen and Daleks; Ms Hartmann had done little to hide her elation at 'capturing' the Doctor. And yet, there was a past. Future. An existence of so much destruction ...
"-stand down, that's an order, Ianto.-"
But Ianto didn't. He wouldn't. He knew of the commotion about him, of Owen with a needle of sedative ready and threatening but warded off after a rapid retrieval for the stun gun at his ankle; even if Owen was technically dead he still moved, which required electrical impulse. The jolt of electricity would at least temporarily slow him, long enough for Ianto to evade the needle.
All of this flashing through his mind in the span it took to blink, his eyes never leaving the Doctor.
And in the far corner of his mind, still the list of charges grew.
As the information swirled and splintered fractals as connections were made to the destroyed, even as the tales Jack had spoken of the Doctor attempted to align themselves within the gaps to balance, the overpowering twist of extremes deafened the clamor of everyone shouting for his attention and felt like a fire-brand through his chest, burning or perhaps squeezing his heart until he had to consciously force himself to breathe. Short gasps of air smelling of buried stone punctuated the silence, forged by deeds so terrifying in scope it hurt. Physical, down to the fingertips holding the gun going numb and the acidic burn of bile chewing away at the stretch between gut and throat.
It made him sick. Looking at the Doctor ... fuck. How could anyone...?
Ianto had little time to continue the question as it was banished from his mind; no, not banished, blanketed. Wrapped in a fuzzy warmth that tasted of hot cocoa and felt like a lit fireplace on a frigid day. It was distracting yet not worrisome; he had no misgivings or fear only ... comfort. Like when, after a long day, he'd run his fingers through Jack's hair, whose entire body would unwind with the repetitive motion. So too Ianto felt himself physically respond, the escalating tension and stress rapidly deflating to alleviate the pressure in his chest, the weight dissolving as the pain melted.
Straightening with resolve and far more calm than he had initially felt, Ianto faced the Doctor with little hesitation in his mind, his thoughts once again flowing freely about him instead of the frantic, twisting chaos they had been just moments earlier.
The Doctor didn't miss it either, and if his eyes widened, Ianto assumed it was simply a trick of the Hub's lights.
"Ianto, what do you see?"
Jack's voice, deceptively calm and tinged with wariness, sounded as clear to Ianto's ears as if he had been speaking only to him in an empty room. Gone were the swirling, muddled tones of words spoken but recognized only for their cadence rather than content. And gone was the urge to confront the Doctor in full Windhover splendor, though the awareness tickled in a corner Ianto sometimes wished to deny that he could, and it might be preferable to how he appeared now. Though, that made as little sense as why he'd suddenly found a sort of peace amidst the overwhelming song of destruction.
"Oh, I'd say what he sees is precisely what he's supposed to see."
The Doctor raised his hands in the universally understood sign of surrender -- maybe not surrender but acquiescence to Ianto's strategic position, and that threw him off far more than the acquiescence itself. Or maybe it was the fact that the Doctor seemed to know more about Ianto than the others recognized. Wouldn't surprise Ianto in the least, though how much and why were a mystery. Maybe he smelled different, though Jack's accurate sense of taste and smell would tend to disprove that logic.
Realizing his focus had drifted, Ianto raised his chin and leveled the gun, again, just for good measure. Not that he'd actually shoot the Doctor. No, as his mind more logically addressed the situation, shooting the Doctor was not in any plan or possible outcome. No matter how guilty he might be for the innumerable charges held against him, death was not proper.
He really didn't know what the alternative was, but it most certainly wasn't death. No matter the charges.
Ianto felt his jaw clench as he tried to figure out how best to proceed under ever-shifting perspectives, not thoughts blowing in disarray but rather shoved into alignment as though they always belonged. Maybe they did belong. Belong? Existed. They existed and simply added themselves to awareness.
The Doctor. Standing here. In the Hub with Jack defending him. That had to mean something as well. He trusted Jack, and Jack believed in the Doctor, not the monster unfurling in great detail within his mind.
So many deaths. So much destruction.
And it all followed in this man's wake.
"Ianto?" Jack's face appeared in his field of vision, wavering just to the left of center, close enough to stop Ianto if he chose, but the urgency appeared to have drained from the situation, at least from Jack's perspective and tone. Maybe it had. "Ianto, listen to me. Torchwood One is gone. Their rules don't apply anymore."
What the hell was he going to do now? He'd pulled a gun on the Doctor, Jack's friend and at times Ianto wondered if "lover" ever factored in, and threatened Owen with a stun gun. Ianto wasn't panicking, not yet, but gods he could feel himself crawling closer to that precarious edge as he couldn't offer reason for the apparent irrationality of his actions. They would bloody section him again after this. Suspend him at the very least.
But he wasn't wrong. And the Doctor knew it as well as he. That meant something. It had to.
Reassurance flooded his mind, and if it weren't for working so long at Torchwood Ianto would have recoiled at the sensation, but it was no more abnormal than he. He knew, he knew he wouldn't go back. He'd escape. He'd flee with ... whatever this was.
Understanding.
Loyalty.
Kinsmanship.
Ianto didn't have to answer Jack, didn't have to worry about moving or fighting as Tosh's computer's alarm alerted Torchwood Three to Rift activity. He didn't move from his vigilant stance, nor did the gun ever waver or his eyes move from the Doctor.
But he wasn't going to shoot; Ianto knew he wasn't. He just couldn't bring himself to lower the gun in face of such great threat to Earth. It was just inherently wrong. Forget the trouble outside the Hub's doors, they had trouble here.
"Jack, reports of multiple blue slug-like creatures coming in." Tosh's voice cut through the silence after she'd disabled the alarm. Ianto didn't even need to look over at her to know she was standing at her desk, typing away while monitoring multiple screens containing CCTV footage, data reports and various diagnostics she constantly ran.
Scary smart, their Tosh.
"Mellonians from the planet Crabb! Haven't seen one of them in ages. Sticky sort, but delightful hosts. They play backgammon, did you know? Backgammon! Well, not backgammon like you know it, but the theory's still the same. Sort of. Not remotely, actually. But they use colored chips and twelve-sided die on a game board with little triangles."
Ianto felt his stare shift to one more of incredulity than animosity as the Doctor raved about the entertainment skills of the Mellonian. A quick glance about, eyes never leaving the Doctor but observing on the periphery, indicated that the entire team carried similar expressions, except for Jack who just looked amused. Returning his attention solely on the Doctor, Ianto had to seriously wonder how the fuck this man could be responsible for such destruction.
Then again, who would have guessed Ianto Jones would have hidden a Cyberman in the basement of the Hub for a year or had wings when he put his mind to it?
Not exactly the most easily read.
Besides, the Doctor's eyes told a different story and he was no mere mortal.
"They do get a bit tetchy when they get hungry, tend to start absorbing any carbon-based object. Lost a coat to them once, walked in on a splicing ceremony with no gift. Take your team, offer to take the Mellaonians to a secluded coastline, they'll be happy and keep to themselves."
Ianto wondered if the Doctor realized he'd just ordered Jack about his own base, though Jack wasn't jumping to defend himself. Anyone else, and the Captain would have put them in their place, quite possibly with no memory of events and a distinct lack of testicles. Of course, it was the Doctor -- some vainglorious being who'd mesmerized Jack -- which seemed to discard all of what Ianto had identified as Jack Harkness' rules, up to and including abandoning one's team.
Irritated with the shift in thought, not to mention the lack of concern for him, the man holding the gun, as Jack and the Doctor carried on their conversation, Ianto felt the childish urge to fire the gun into the air, just to draw the Doctor's attention, and perhaps figure out how the hell he was going to proceed.
Petulance -- not just a human emotion, it would seem.
There was something more, there had to be. He couldn't kill the Doctor; not when there was no immediate threat to himself or team which necessitated death. He'd be no better than the mercenary Judoon, and the thought of such a connection was so revolting that Ianto felt physically nauseous. But what was he supposed to do?
"Oh no, and leave you to tinker around my base? Do I have to remind you of that time on Nythos?"
As Jack stubbornly crossed his arms in a standoff with the Doctor, Ianto realized that all was lost. Not lost, per say, but any hope of apprehending the Doctor for any of his outstanding charges or sending him away to protect the Earth from whatever destruction was trailing in his wake vanished with Jack's teasing tone. He didn't even know if he could do anything given Jack's defense of the Doctor and his own refusal to admit the truth of who and what he was. It'd just be blamed on Torchwood One, or a recurrence of the nightmares before.
Before. Gods, he acted like it was years ago, not weeks, since he'd learned that there was cause behind his visions and the terrors of the days.
Fuck, Jack might even go with the Doctor again.
With reservation, Ianto clicked on the safety and withdrew from his gun-ready stance, quietly stepping aside without pulling any attention to himself. There was nothing he could do at the moment in regards to the Doctor. Nothing. And while guilt and responsibility gnawed away at his resolution, he pushed it aside. Jack was the leader of Torchwood Three, and if he chose to go on a bloody chase for these Mellonians, Ianto would have everything ready that the team might need to transport or contain them.
It was his duty. Even if his personal duty felt absolutely shredded.
Owen's eyes tracked him as he moved, probably waiting for some indication of mental collapse. Maybe it was concern. Ianto couldn't care less as he began mentally tallying everything he needed to load in the SUV. SUVs. They should take two if it was a transport job...
"I won't be alone, Mr. Jones will keep me company."
Ianto stopped. Everyone stopped. If the Hub had a pulse, even that stopped as well. For having wanted attention earlier, the attention now was unnerving. No one focused their attention on the man who had actually voiced the pronouncement, which Ianto found distinctly unfair. It wasn't like he'd asked the Doctor to request he stay. If anything, he wished to be as far from the man as possible.
"It's probably not more than a three person job, right, Jack? I could stay here and monitor any police response ... "
"No." Jack cut Gwen off with an added sharp wave of his hand, surprising Ianto with the vehemence of his response as Ianto wasn't entirely sure the emotional response wasn't directed at him. Jack's stare certainly was, his eyes boring into Ianto's to the point he assumed there would be two holes at the back of his head from the intensity. But what Ianto had done to deserve any of it, he wasn't sure, though the tiny debacle with the gun had most certainly soured Jack's attitude towards him. However, Jack wouldn't have taken him to task in front of the team for it, would he? Ianto knew he was kidding himself, of course Jack would have; standard leadership practices were never really Jack's forte. "This requires the team, so I'll need you there. Ianto and the Doctor can stay back and update us as necessary."
He couldn't stop the wince at being so offhandedly dismissed from inclusion in the 'team', despite recent history indicating the contrary. It still stung, and as Ianto resolutely remained expressionless as Jack continued his unnerving stare, he felt the first temptations of doubt enter his thoughts regarding his place in Torchwood. Was he still around, memories intact, because Jack didn't trust Retcon to effectively wipe out the history of Torchwood from his mind? Was he there for amusement? Because no one else wished to clean the lavatories? Was his relationship with Jack -
No. Ianto categorically denied any such thought and banished it from his mind . While their relationship had fallen askew over the past days, Jack must trust him. Otherwise why he was permitting Ianto full access within the Hub and all systems if he doubted Ianto's loyalty? He was being monitored, but Ianto had to believe that was for concern of his safety, not because the rest believed him a threat to Torchwood.
Still, Ianto couldn't help but acknowledge the unease and disappointment gnawing away at his insides.
Then again, he was lying to his team and to his ... to Jack. Perhaps he deserved it.
Jack moved first, though he never turned away. He just pointed in a general direction (the coffee machine, Ianto noted, and he certainly hoped that Jack wasn't going to instruct them to take the machine along with them as a gift to the Mellonians) with orders for Gwen to phone Rhys and borrow a lorry while they loaded up in the SUV. And still his eyes never left Ianto's, making Ianto desperately wish he could actually read Jack's thoughts so that he'd have some inkling as to what Jack was trying to impress upon him. Most likely along the lines of "if you shoot the Doctor I will hunt you down and you'll beg for mercy," but Ianto couldn't be certain of the tilted frown and lips smashed into a thin line, an expression of Jack's Ianto typically associated with visible restraint and masked agitation, not threat of harm. Threat of anything, really.
Oh, to have Tosh's necklace in this instance.
Ianto raised his chin -- defiance really his only viable option in face of absolute confusion -- and nodded as though he understood what the hell Jack meant in a gesture that reminded him far too much of his return from suspension following Lisa's death. Not since then had he been so uncertain of Jack's intentions, but the one thing he desperately latched on to was that Jack believed that he would not shoot the Doctor in his absence. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as it appeared, maybe Jack was just following whatever orders the Doctor had (not so) subtly laid out for Torchwood Three.
But damned if the lack of trust wasn't unfounded. He was lying to Jack, lying to the rest of the team. He was breaking every promise and betraying Jack quite possibly worse than he had with Lisa, because at least then he hadn't fought so hard to establish that confidence. As well, he should have mentioned his unease to Jack, in case there was an additional threat to the Hub. Ianto knew of at least fourteen protocol violations he was incurring by not saying anything despite awareness of a threat. But he couldn't, and most importantly, he knew he wouldn't.
"Jack..."
Ianto blinked in surprised as the natural sounds of the Hub battered him from all sides ones more, from the cascading water in the tower to the low whirrs of computer fans to Myfanwy rustling her wings in her aerie to Tosh's voice, quavering as she commanded Jack's attention. He'd lost himself and time within Jack's stare, and he was none the wiser for the action. Disgustingly unsettling, or perhaps that was the continued presence of the Doctor who would be upsetting him greater if not for the dampening touch softening the harsh edges of knowledge that had threatened to overwhelm him earlier.
Jack seemed just as surprised for the loss of time, however, and that soothed Ianto's pride just a bit as Jack's face remained like marble save for the twitch of his cheek, right near his eye, a suppressed grimace manifesting if one was as familiar with the man as Ianto. The hesitant step forward was something different, however, something new for Ianto's mind to rapidly process with all the other information circulating. Panic-threat, was Jack to stun him before he left? Tie him up to protect the Doctor? Warning? Confusion as he stopped, maybe reassuring hug though they were far from that point in their relationship, months ago, when Ianto may have believed it possible but the likelihood no longer probable. He'd done enough damage through his withdrawal from Jack that they never really touched.
Whatever it was vanished before Ianto could understand, the brief flash of openness buried beneath an artificial megawatt smile that lacked any warmth or honest emotion. "You two kids don't cause any trouble while we're gone." Ianto didn't move as Jack stepped forward in full confidence and typical captain arrogance -- the previous hesitation long forgotten -- and remained still even as Jack leaned forward to say whatever he intended for Ianto's ears only. "We'll talk, later. I want answers."
And for a moment, just a tiny fraction of a moment that tasted fleetingly of the swirling purple and jade lightning upon the pier, Ianto believed Jack was going to kiss him,there in front of the others and the Doctor. Jack was so close that Ianto could smell the coffee on his breath mingling with the hint of 51st century pheromones and he had to admit that combination fueled by intensity was heady as hell. On any other day, at any other time ...
Jack pulled away before Ianto could form a decision, or perhaps even a question, just the hint of thought of missing Jack before it vanished with a pivot, a sharp angular turn towards the cog door and the team waiting impatiently for their leader to rush into the unknown once again to risk life and limb for the sake of Britain.
They kept doing it over and over, no questions asked, and Ianto wondered how long it would be before his team failed to reappear in full at day's end. The life of a Torchwood employee was short, and he nor Jack would always be there to protect. However on this day, Ianto believed the team far more safe out in the world fighting aliens than inside the Hub with two aliens they didn't know to hunt.
It would have amused Ianto if the truth wasn't so troublesome.
Ianto watched as the team filed out. Jack's great coat slipped past the cog door as it rolled to a close, symbolically cutting him off from his team, from the outside world, but at the same time an underlying thread of reassurance that the Doctor would remain contained within Torchwood, though Ianto didn't fool himself into believing that the Doctor couldn't leave when and where he damned well chose.
"They'll be fine, the Mellonians are generally a peaceful lot."
Spinning slowly on his heel, Ianto quickly calculated the distance from his person to the Doctor's based on the sound of his voice, reaching the unnerving conclusion that he was far closer than when Jack had left. He couldn't put a finger on it, the root of the anxiety setting every nerve aflame and hair on edge, but it was truly visceral, not imagined, as even his fingernails felt like they were curling in rejection of the Doctor. He'd felt it before, with Wesley, with various aliens Torchwood had encountered that had truly been deviant of nature, but Ianto couldn't reconcile the revulsion with the savior of worlds Jack had painted with his stories and respect. They didn't fit. They just didn't.
Before he finished rounding on the Doctor, Ianto applied the smile he used for difficult visitors to the Information Center. Jack trusted him not to shoot the Doctor while he was away; Ianto would honor him by his restraint. "Would you care for a coffee, sir?" Just as he'd figured, the man stood just a few steps away, staring at him with near the same intensity that Jack had earlier. For a frightening moment before he reassured himself, Ianto feared that somehow he'd changed back and his marks were showing.
Contrary to what Ianto expected, the Doctor's face broke out into a broad smile that Ianto believed was actually truthful.
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet in such fashion Ianto hadn't seen but on a giddy tot and the man ratcheted up in Ianto's 'disturbing' scale. "So you're the Ianto Jones I keep hearing about."
Ianto settled his hands on his hips and attempted to maintain an air of professionalism, despite the urge to rattle Jack for having apparently discussed him with the Doctor as well as the overwhelming craving to remove this current threat to Earth. It wasn't just a whim, he knew. Instinctual, perhaps? Odd, but not completely unexpected given his previous experiences. Disarming, for certain, as Ianto knew logically it was a function of who he had become, not who he once knew himself to be. And if that was no longer true, did he have any clue who he was currently?
Professionalism. He could maintain professionalism no matter how much his mind screamed at him that the figure in front of him was responsible for such horrible things. As it was, Ianto held his gaze to the left of the Doctor, just over his shoulder. Information still bled into his awareness like a punctured balloon, but at least the effect was tolerable. "It's possible, though the name is quite common. A tour of the base, then, if you prefer? I'm afraid the grand entrance was negated by your arrival within the Hub, but I'll attempt to compensate."
"You really don't like me, do you?" Ianto couldn't quite mask his wince as the Doctor side-stepped directly into the path of his eyes; grinning like a fool, which did nothing for Ianto's patience while he put on a pair of glasses with thick brown frames. At the rate the Doctor was going, Ianto wasn't quite sure there'd be pieces of the Doctor left before Jack's return. Not that he'd do anything himself, but Janet might find this particular type of alien tasty. "Why is that, Mr. Jones?"
The Doctor stepped into his field of vision yet again, a shift-step dance that seemed to amuse the Doctor more than it ought and Ianto began silently cursing the Doctor, his ancestors, and everyone remotely connected to the name. Including Jack. And even Martha, despite the woman's charms. "Liking you is irrelevant, otherwise I would not have hesitated to shoot you." Ianto smiled, though not at the Doctor but rather the memory his words dredged up. He wasn't proud of shooting Owen, but he would do it again, if necessary, for the sake of the world and for Jack. For Jack, mostly, and that thought did frighten him a bit. "If you'd rather, I can take you to the surface."
"Nope! You're far more interesting." Despite his best efforts to remain emotionless, Ianto couldn't help it as his eyebrow rose in disbelief and cynicism while the Doctor spoke. The man was definitely mad, perhaps not in the same fashion as he had been diagnosed, but if Jack tolerated this lunacy, than why had he ever been committed? "Besides, it unnerves Jack to think about me roaming about his base so what point would there be in leaving it? Come then, Mr. Jones, Martha asked for my help for Jack's partner, though I'm rather surprised to find you here as she'd implied that you were, ah, in an alternate location for safe keeping. Partner? Is that the term used now? Partner ... lover ... husband ... ooh! The Kleetons on the planet Pyrhon -- lovely place, dreary weather -- they say, well, translated, 'heart'. Isn't that charming? In fact, I was there ... "
As the Doctor babbled -- Ianto really had no better term for the sheer deluge of words spilling forth from his mouth -- Ianto listened with half an ear focused on the actual content, but most of his attention was directed at what the Doctor was doing. He roamed while he talked, picking up various gadgets from everyone's workstations, inspecting them, sometimes prodding them with a finger before setting them down again with a seemingly careless lack of respect. Once he even brought out his sonic screwdriver, a name Ianto could have stated from his experience at Torchwood One without the name supplying itself within his mind. A directed 'zap' from the screwdriver and Ianto knew instantly that the device would work when Tosh returned. He didn't have to wait for Tosh's return however, as the Doctor smiled in boyish glee and flipped a switch Ianto assumed was the 'on' button. The Hub was instantly filled with light, nothing glaring or brilliant but a speckled rainbow of color like a million multi-faceted prisms shattering white light, which reflected off every surface, including a number of blotches decorating the Doctor's face and he assumed his own as well.
Ianto knew the name before the Doctor spoke.
"Altaran disco ball. Brilliant."
As he spoke the points of light moved, the colors changing in tempo with the pattern of the Doctor's voice. Ianto wasn't sure what disturbed him the most -- that disco wasn't limited to just earth, or that the Doctor found the promise of a billion dancing lights in ever-changing colors which followed rhythm and volume set to music as an enlightening experience. Ianto rather thought he himself would be suffering vertigo as a result in a matter of moments from just the vocally influenced pattern much less any rapid rhythm or changes in tone. He figured it was fairly easy to assume that the Altarans did not possess human vision or neural processing.
Then again, he didn't either. Or maybe he did. Ianto simply hadn't evaluated that yet.
Thankfully, the Doctor just as quickly turned the device off and returned it to Tosh's desk before Ianto could politely request the action. His head was already pounding from the tension and adrenaline and the dizzying lights were simply making it worse. Not that the Doctor appeared to be aware of or in any way concerned for Ianto's well-being; he rather believed the Doctor was actually only conscious of his own self but he firmly resolved not to speak of such things. Giving the thoughts room to breathe and grow within his mind would simply encourage a slip of the tongue at an inopportune moment and while the Doctor appeared almost childish in his apparent curiosity, Ianto knew him for what he was. Dangerous. Deadly.
"Don't!" The command slipped from his lips before Ianto could stop them, his hand out-stretched before he consciously evaluated the action and the response. But the Doctor's hand had stopped, poised a fraction of an inch above another device looking for all intents and purposes like an inert blob of metal, maybe a paperweight. "Don't touch that, sir."
The Doctor's expressionless face confused Ianto, it seemed to Ianto that the natural reaction to such a sharp request would be surprise and perhaps question, but the lack of anything at all led Ianto to believe the man simply didn't know what he was reaching out to touch or he didn't care. Or perhaps it was something else, Ianto's subconscious tickled a warning, no, not a warning, a suggestion. A hint or motivation. But no matter the reason, Ianto felt compelled to explain himself. "That's a Class C Ylpfaxorian subatomic particle disruptor, designed as a mine. It's deactivated right now and won't arm without its key, but if you zap it with your sonic screwdriver and alter the internal components, you risk detonating it. Sir." Ianto added, almost as an afterthought. Test Ianto's subconscious was screaming at him as he watched the Doctor withdraw his hand yet never react to the information, which at the very least would have startled Ianto had he been the one receiving it.
"According to Ms. Sato," the Doctor began as he held up the clipboard containing Toshiko's preliminary notes on the device, his index finger quickly skimming over her handwriting, "the device has unknown origins and might be a weapon, might be a toaster."
It didn't take but a moment before Ianto realized his error, a quick wave of panic flashed over him before resolute logic replaced it. He plucked the clipboard from the Doctor's hands before the other man could comment and using a pen from Tosh's desk, quickly jotted down the words "weapon" and "subatomic particle disruptor mine" in the header while he casually lied about the source of his knowledge. "I've encountered blueprints for this device in the Archives; I wasn't aware we had a functional one on the premises."
With a polite, quick smile directed at the Doctor, he replaced the clipboard and stepped away from Tosh's desk, straightening the cuffs of his suit coat as he moved out of habit and for distraction. He didn't know if it'd work on the Doctor, but Jack had always refocused on the action, rather than the previous conversation. "Can I interest you in a cup of tea, sir?" Ianto kept a watchful eye on the Doctor now, uncertain whether he could trust the man to keep his hands to himself and not destroy the Hub in the process; a task made even more difficult with the disgust and anger still raging through him no matter the comforting presence within his mind. It was difficult and awkward, and above all, Ianto hated feeling that in what should have been the comfort of the Hub's sanctuary.
"You are a curious one, Mr. Jones." Ianto watched as the Doctor slipped the glasses from his face and into his pocket, an action Ianto believed had more importance than the innocent gesture purported. "Martha phoned me, left a message saying you had suffered an acute attack of a suspicious nature affecting your perception and awareness of reality. She was in a bit of a panic -- I might even go so far as to say she likes you, and if you have her respect then you have mine. Brave girl, saved you lot more than once, and she wondered if I knew anything that might have caused it or could treat it. I must admit, I've never heard of such a thing, not caused by an external source nor a psychological one so quickly reversed."
'Well, that was a kind way of saying I was hallucinating,' Ianto thought, though the smile he reserved for the most testing Information Center visitors never fell. He faintly remembered Tosh saying something about Martha phoning a friend for assistance while he had been at Providence, but for some reason he had never linked the friend to the Doctor. A misjudgment and failure on his part. "I can assure you, sir, that time of crisis has long since passed." He tried to calculate how much time had passed since Martha had phoned the Doctor, but could only be vague as time had lost much of its meaning within those walls. "Nearly two months have passed since she phoned, I'm afraid your presence is a bit ... " Unnecessary? Unwanted? Get the hell off my planet and never come back? None of the phrases were polite to say the least, and he had been raised far better than that. "... ill-timed."
To Ianto's annoyance, the Doctor just grinned broadly. "You really don't like me, do you Mr. Jones?" he repeated, and Ianto had nothing more to say than he had the first time the Doctor had spoken those words. So for sake of the (unwanted) guest in the Hub and for Jack, he remained silent. His silence seemed to do little to reduce the Doctor's unending exuberance however. "Well, then. Let's get to the TARDIS then, shall we? Martha will be asking for the results of a scan and I have no inclination to lie to Ms Jones. Jones. You two aren't related, are you? Oh, that'd be brilliant, can't think why I didn't ask before."
"No, we're not related," Ianto replied almost offhandedly as his mind whirled around what the Doctor had said, and more importantly, how to evade the matter entirely. Not that he lacked confidence with his own body to reveal any trace of alien -- every single test run by Owen (and Martha) to the extent of using alien scanning technology simply proved him human with nothing to the contrary. But ... Ianto knew that whatever the Doctor possessed would most likely not be in the same league of technology that Owen's was. In fact, the thought of the tech the Doctor might possess was downright chilling.
He'd be lucky if he didn't pass out as he had at Lester's from the overwhelming onslaught of new technology and all its uses given he'd be stepping into a bloody spacecraft..
Smiling, Ianto adopted the same tone he used when he was informing Jack of the day's schedule as he casually clutched his hands behind his back. For all he knew from Torchwood One, the Doctor could not see through solid matter and so his white knuckles would be hidden and he would have an outlet for any tension that might cause his voice to shake. Disturbing, how a year of hiding Lisa had taught him so much. "I thank you for the offer, sir, but a scan is unnecessary and I would hate to be a frivolous burden on your time."
"Nonsense, I insist!" The Doctor nearly bounced with excitement, a trend Ianto found both tiresome and engaging. To possess such a seemingly unending core of energy would make a fortune if bottled and sold on the market, and for a fleeting moment, Ianto wondered if the Doctor wasn't perhaps on some form of strong alien amphetamine. "Besides," the Doctor said as he spun, taking in the overhead flight of Myfanwy with a barely suppressed 'ooh!', "if I know Jack, he'll be reassured and less of a mother hen if I run some scans and settle any lingering questions." He stopped the spin precisely where he had started it, Ianto noted, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, displacing his overcoat in such a Jack fashion he had to wonder who was imitating who. But that question quickly evaporated as the Doctor's face grew far more serious than Ianto had seen since their 'guest' had arrived. "Why do you think Jack agreed to leave you alone with me?"
Ianto opened his mouth to respond and, to his shame, found he had no response to give. He quickly pressed his lips together and hoped the Doctor hadn't noticed. Logic leaned towards acceptance of the Doctor's question; Jack's actions were irrational at best, given the scene just minutes ago with Ianto armed and threatening the very same Doctor he had been left with. It was ridiculous to feel betrayed as he'd been guilty of lying to Jack for some time now. If Jack believed the Doctor would give him answers and it suspended the suspicion and the monitoring ... it could explain Jack's actions immediately before he left. The intense stare, nothing spoken just Jack trying to imprint ... something ... on Ianto before the team left. Ianto had set that aside within his mind to figure out at a less challenging time but perhaps .. fuck. He had no idea what the hell Jack had meant as nothing in the course of the past hour had been logical.
Applying logic didn't stop him from feeling the betrayal, deserved or not.
It also didn't stop the anger directed at the Doctor for using such dirty tactics to get Ianto to submit to the tests, a submission that seemed purely sought to satisfy the Doctor's curiosity.
Or maybe it was simply fear on his part that was fueling the stubborn refusal.
The Doctor's expression never changed, though Ianto was certain his eyes missed nothing of his inner debate, pitifully thin as it might have been. And for the moment, Ianto hated the man for more than the deaths and destruction that filled his mind. "Jack agreed because he believed I would not kill you in his absence," Ianto countered, feeling somewhat justified with the argument, and he knew it fully accurate, even if it failed to address the true question. But he ceded to the Doctor's point that perhaps with the Doctor's tests, maybe the cameras would be removed from his home at the very least. Not that he'd admit it. "Martha requested the scans?"
The Doctor lost his serious expression as quickly as he had adopted it, the resulting shift in tenor hard for Ianto to follow. "Still have the voice mail if you want to verify."
With a slight head shake, Ianto signaled that verification wouldn't be necessary; he didn't see a choice that wouldn't be akin to a neon blinking light screaming his deceit. He just hoped that whatever the tests revealed, that there would be no indication of anything 'wrong' with him, from an alien point or anything remotely connected to his mother's illness.
Both left far too many consequences and questions that Ianto wasn't prepared to deal with.
And while he trusted Jack, Ianto most certainly didn't trust this destroyer of worlds standing before him, no matter the crises he might have averted.
Resigned and mentally preparing himself for whatever he might see inside, Ianto followed the eager man to the doors of the blue police box.
Next Chapter
Series 'Verse: The Windhovers
Chapter: 2 of 4
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1, S2
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien
Summary: "All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them." - Galileo Galilei
A/N: Did you know, "lethologica" is the inability to remember the correct word. I'd offer an explanation for why I felt that important to say, but I can't recall the word I meant to say, so I'll opt for "donut" instead.
Previous Chapters:
The Windhovers: The Beginning(complete)
The Fledgling (1 of 4)
More lovely art by draw_yourworld!
And for those of you who are familiar with "Proof of Your Existence", a gorgeous bonus picture.
Again, you can leave a comment on the artwork here.
On with chapter 2!
***
His method was easy, really. Ianto would pick up multiple files from the section he needed for his archival project -- really nothing more than refiling and re-cataloging the growing set of books, documents and gadgets gathered through the history of Torchwood Three as well as boxes upon boxes of retrieved technology from Torchwood One -which were surrounded by the sections and files that were truly the focus of his "project." He'd mask his actions by replacing the files all at once, burying the ones not sanctioned strictly by Torchwood research amidst the ones for his project.
That was one thing nice about hard copy research. No data trail to wipe.
Ianto searched for everything, from the Windhovers to angels to winged humanoids to the markings and uncovered some nasty creatures that would join his nightmares (Weeping Angels? He was never looking at a stone statue of an angel the same way again). Nothing sounded like what little he knew of himself, and there was no mention of the Windhovers.
None.
At least, so far. He had only really made it through the obvious searches and was beginning on the obscure.
Though he did find out that Lester's species used the third eye in their mating rituals, something his imagination could have done without.
The planet Halcyon turned up only one result that he could find, a mention buried in fabled planets of lore, lending confirmation to his suspicions that the annotation '(d)' in reference to the planet meant 'destroyed' or 'dead'. Of course it would; why would his search be made remotely easy when it was so much more entertaining for fate to fuck with him while dangling tidbits with little to no relevance to his crisis at hand.
He'd been searching for days now, every moment spent in the Archives slogging through reams upon reams of information and nothing within Torchwood was good enough. He could ask Jack, Ianto proposed to himself, but that thought was just as quickly dismissed and filed away with the hundreds of false leads and dead ends.
Ianto did do work on his actual project, his actions appearing for all intents and purposes on the CCTV as within reason and function of his archival project. None of the others asked for details, and Jack just signed off on it without looking at the project specs, leading Ianto to believe he was being humored by permitting him to work on it. An alternate and yet equally viable thought could be that the team might think he was escaping and finding comfort within the stacks of aged tomes and artifacts after his past few months.
Which was in part truth. There was simply something so inherently calming about fingering the old, faded leather-bound books and preserved manuscripts, quite literally touching a history (and a future) that few in the world would ever know.
An alarm pierced Ianto's thoughts, the sound so loud as it bounced off the vaulted ceiling and stone walls encasing the Archives that he flinched reflexively. Internal alarms, his mind quickly proffered, rapidly filtering through all eventualities; an intruder in the Hub. Quickly, he crossed the floor to the far wall, tension winding every muscle to springing point as they waited for the command to fire. It wasn't just nerves, it wasn't fear, there was something more, unexplained, unidentifiable, but certainly there, screaming for attention even as a sense of calm poured over him, beginning in his hair, it felt like, and rinsing over him like he'd stepped under a shower head spraying water. Cool, contrasting with the fiery adrenaline burning through his veins with the rapid pace of his heart.
Knowing his luck, he'd suffer a heart attack in the Archives and die before the invasion ever reached the level.
If he had any luck at all, the intruder would not be a Dalek or Cyberman.
Ianto tapped his earpiece with one hand as the other punched in the code on the panel set into the wall. "Jack?" A portion of the wall slid open, revealing a small cache of weapons. Nothing that would work against a creature of metal, but if the intruder wore flesh, then the handgun might do a little damage. A pitiful defense, but the best he could do within the Archives. Once he got closer to the Hub, he could ascertain the situation and hit the other caches hidden throughout Torchwood Three as well if necessary. Unless, of course, the place went into full lockdown and then what he had would simply have to do. In fact, Ianto was relatively surprised that the place hadn't been -
Silence. The absence of the blaring alarm was almost tactual, his skin feeling lighter without the weight of the alarm pressing against it. His heartbeat took the place of the klaxon, thrumming with the pulse of a tympani measuring cut time. Alla breve.
His mind couldn't make up if time was racing or crawling, or somewhere muddled in the middle. Tucked away in the hollowed halls of the Archives where common time was lost in the history of the past and future, time could have meant anything.
He could have been standing there, staring at the panel with the gun in hand for hours while listening to the silence.
Or maybe just a quantum-second.
"Ianto."
Jack's voice in his ear started Ianto away from the wall, first spinning on his heel towards the door until he realized the voice came from his comm.
He'd have to remember to delete that embarrassing little bit of footage from the CCTV, later, when the present crisis was averted.
"Come up to the Hub, there's someone here I want you to meet."
"Is there a threat to the base?" Ianto waited ten seconds before he scowled as his question was met with no response, not even radio clicks, which only proved to confuse him even more. Jack had sounded almost ... excited ... yet his words had contained none of the Standard Operating Procedure for Base Incursion code words calling off the alarm, or indicating that the threat still existed. In fact, Jack's words were nowhere close to resembling code.
Typical Jack, defying all Rules and Regulations.
Unless it wasn't Jack at all but an impostor unaware of any protocol.
Ianto opted for caution before haste, taking time to tuck a stun gun into a sock and the handgun into the waistband of his trousers at the small of his back. History had taught him well as he crept along the walls, avoiding the internal CCTV monitoring the halls, though avoiding the cameras would hardly have saved him from the Cybermen and Daleks (how he saved himself at Torchwood One he preferred not to think about, in fact, couldn't remember at all). Wasn't difficult to navigate through Torchwood Three; he'd quickly learnt when he'd been taking care of Lisa how to avoid detection as he moved about. Or deliberately place himself at a certain location at a specific time.
He heard Jack's boisterous laughter before he actually saw anyone, a sound that both relieved him and annoyed. On the one hand, the chances that the base was under attack were rapidly dwindling. On the other, it meant Ianto had spent the time since the alarm in a constant state of adrenalin-fueled alertness and coming down off that was going to wreck his evening. Not that he'd had anything planned, but the possibilities would probably be discarded in favor of stumbling into his bedroom and falling face-first on his bed.
Jack could have informed him that there was no threat.
And if it was a guest in the form of one of Jack's old Time Agency buddies a la John Hart, Ianto was going to be especially perturbed. He'd played eye-candy enough for one of Jack's exes.
"Ianto! What took you? I've-"
Whatever Jack said next was lost to the wind as Ianto whipped the gun from his trousers and aimed it on the visitor so instinctively he couldn't remember a conscious thought to arm himself.
Not that he had much conscious thought as information overwhelmed him, tumbling past perception. Not sight and not thought but awareness in a litany of the universe's truths.
Names.
Planets.
Species.
"-Ianto, stand down! He's not-"
"-oh my god-"
"-the fuck did he get a weapon? Put down the gun before-"
"-not Torchwood One! He is not the enemy-"
"-relapse?-"
Ianto heard the commotion and clamor of voices and ignored them just as easily, letting chaos flow right over him and along the straight line of the gun to the man in his sights. With everyone else he'd encountered, it was brief. A moment of awareness of who they were, just a blip upon his consciousness as information he hadn't realized was missing appeared in the blanks.
This ... it kept going. The list kept growing. Names, so many names. People, places and things Ianto didn't recognize, didn't wish to recognize as he ruthlessly shoved aside the deluge of '(d)' annotated charges and allowed the rage to curl about his core.
Rage and distress, confusion and horror.
Fuck, he couldn't breathe.
Struggling to maintain a grip on everything from consciousness to physical form (and oh how instinctively he wanted to go back to his winged state and embrace fury as his body, mind, hell, spirit if there was one kept demanding), Ianto shook off the touch which had fallen on his arm. When the touch returned, he may have growled at the person.
He'd never admit to it, and CCTV didn't capture sound so there would be no physical evidence.
His eyes never left the man in front of him, half an eye down the sight of the gun to ensure a true aim. The man who made no attempt to move or even protest the threat of the weapon.
The Doctor.
The alias itself made Ianto's hands shake, not in fear but as a body physically battered by contrary information. Ianto knew the Doctor had played a role at Torchwood One and the defeat of the Cybermen and Daleks; Ms Hartmann had done little to hide her elation at 'capturing' the Doctor. And yet, there was a past. Future. An existence of so much destruction ...
"-stand down, that's an order, Ianto.-"
But Ianto didn't. He wouldn't. He knew of the commotion about him, of Owen with a needle of sedative ready and threatening but warded off after a rapid retrieval for the stun gun at his ankle; even if Owen was technically dead he still moved, which required electrical impulse. The jolt of electricity would at least temporarily slow him, long enough for Ianto to evade the needle.
All of this flashing through his mind in the span it took to blink, his eyes never leaving the Doctor.
And in the far corner of his mind, still the list of charges grew.
As the information swirled and splintered fractals as connections were made to the destroyed, even as the tales Jack had spoken of the Doctor attempted to align themselves within the gaps to balance, the overpowering twist of extremes deafened the clamor of everyone shouting for his attention and felt like a fire-brand through his chest, burning or perhaps squeezing his heart until he had to consciously force himself to breathe. Short gasps of air smelling of buried stone punctuated the silence, forged by deeds so terrifying in scope it hurt. Physical, down to the fingertips holding the gun going numb and the acidic burn of bile chewing away at the stretch between gut and throat.
It made him sick. Looking at the Doctor ... fuck. How could anyone...?
Ianto had little time to continue the question as it was banished from his mind; no, not banished, blanketed. Wrapped in a fuzzy warmth that tasted of hot cocoa and felt like a lit fireplace on a frigid day. It was distracting yet not worrisome; he had no misgivings or fear only ... comfort. Like when, after a long day, he'd run his fingers through Jack's hair, whose entire body would unwind with the repetitive motion. So too Ianto felt himself physically respond, the escalating tension and stress rapidly deflating to alleviate the pressure in his chest, the weight dissolving as the pain melted.
Straightening with resolve and far more calm than he had initially felt, Ianto faced the Doctor with little hesitation in his mind, his thoughts once again flowing freely about him instead of the frantic, twisting chaos they had been just moments earlier.
The Doctor didn't miss it either, and if his eyes widened, Ianto assumed it was simply a trick of the Hub's lights.
"Ianto, what do you see?"
Jack's voice, deceptively calm and tinged with wariness, sounded as clear to Ianto's ears as if he had been speaking only to him in an empty room. Gone were the swirling, muddled tones of words spoken but recognized only for their cadence rather than content. And gone was the urge to confront the Doctor in full Windhover splendor, though the awareness tickled in a corner Ianto sometimes wished to deny that he could, and it might be preferable to how he appeared now. Though, that made as little sense as why he'd suddenly found a sort of peace amidst the overwhelming song of destruction.
"Oh, I'd say what he sees is precisely what he's supposed to see."
The Doctor raised his hands in the universally understood sign of surrender -- maybe not surrender but acquiescence to Ianto's strategic position, and that threw him off far more than the acquiescence itself. Or maybe it was the fact that the Doctor seemed to know more about Ianto than the others recognized. Wouldn't surprise Ianto in the least, though how much and why were a mystery. Maybe he smelled different, though Jack's accurate sense of taste and smell would tend to disprove that logic.
Realizing his focus had drifted, Ianto raised his chin and leveled the gun, again, just for good measure. Not that he'd actually shoot the Doctor. No, as his mind more logically addressed the situation, shooting the Doctor was not in any plan or possible outcome. No matter how guilty he might be for the innumerable charges held against him, death was not proper.
He really didn't know what the alternative was, but it most certainly wasn't death. No matter the charges.
Ianto felt his jaw clench as he tried to figure out how best to proceed under ever-shifting perspectives, not thoughts blowing in disarray but rather shoved into alignment as though they always belonged. Maybe they did belong. Belong? Existed. They existed and simply added themselves to awareness.
The Doctor. Standing here. In the Hub with Jack defending him. That had to mean something as well. He trusted Jack, and Jack believed in the Doctor, not the monster unfurling in great detail within his mind.
So many deaths. So much destruction.
And it all followed in this man's wake.
"Ianto?" Jack's face appeared in his field of vision, wavering just to the left of center, close enough to stop Ianto if he chose, but the urgency appeared to have drained from the situation, at least from Jack's perspective and tone. Maybe it had. "Ianto, listen to me. Torchwood One is gone. Their rules don't apply anymore."
What the hell was he going to do now? He'd pulled a gun on the Doctor, Jack's friend and at times Ianto wondered if "lover" ever factored in, and threatened Owen with a stun gun. Ianto wasn't panicking, not yet, but gods he could feel himself crawling closer to that precarious edge as he couldn't offer reason for the apparent irrationality of his actions. They would bloody section him again after this. Suspend him at the very least.
But he wasn't wrong. And the Doctor knew it as well as he. That meant something. It had to.
Reassurance flooded his mind, and if it weren't for working so long at Torchwood Ianto would have recoiled at the sensation, but it was no more abnormal than he. He knew, he knew he wouldn't go back. He'd escape. He'd flee with ... whatever this was.
Understanding.
Loyalty.
Kinsmanship.
Ianto didn't have to answer Jack, didn't have to worry about moving or fighting as Tosh's computer's alarm alerted Torchwood Three to Rift activity. He didn't move from his vigilant stance, nor did the gun ever waver or his eyes move from the Doctor.
But he wasn't going to shoot; Ianto knew he wasn't. He just couldn't bring himself to lower the gun in face of such great threat to Earth. It was just inherently wrong. Forget the trouble outside the Hub's doors, they had trouble here.
"Jack, reports of multiple blue slug-like creatures coming in." Tosh's voice cut through the silence after she'd disabled the alarm. Ianto didn't even need to look over at her to know she was standing at her desk, typing away while monitoring multiple screens containing CCTV footage, data reports and various diagnostics she constantly ran.
Scary smart, their Tosh.
"Mellonians from the planet Crabb! Haven't seen one of them in ages. Sticky sort, but delightful hosts. They play backgammon, did you know? Backgammon! Well, not backgammon like you know it, but the theory's still the same. Sort of. Not remotely, actually. But they use colored chips and twelve-sided die on a game board with little triangles."
Ianto felt his stare shift to one more of incredulity than animosity as the Doctor raved about the entertainment skills of the Mellonian. A quick glance about, eyes never leaving the Doctor but observing on the periphery, indicated that the entire team carried similar expressions, except for Jack who just looked amused. Returning his attention solely on the Doctor, Ianto had to seriously wonder how the fuck this man could be responsible for such destruction.
Then again, who would have guessed Ianto Jones would have hidden a Cyberman in the basement of the Hub for a year or had wings when he put his mind to it?
Not exactly the most easily read.
Besides, the Doctor's eyes told a different story and he was no mere mortal.
"They do get a bit tetchy when they get hungry, tend to start absorbing any carbon-based object. Lost a coat to them once, walked in on a splicing ceremony with no gift. Take your team, offer to take the Mellaonians to a secluded coastline, they'll be happy and keep to themselves."
Ianto wondered if the Doctor realized he'd just ordered Jack about his own base, though Jack wasn't jumping to defend himself. Anyone else, and the Captain would have put them in their place, quite possibly with no memory of events and a distinct lack of testicles. Of course, it was the Doctor -- some vainglorious being who'd mesmerized Jack -- which seemed to discard all of what Ianto had identified as Jack Harkness' rules, up to and including abandoning one's team.
Irritated with the shift in thought, not to mention the lack of concern for him, the man holding the gun, as Jack and the Doctor carried on their conversation, Ianto felt the childish urge to fire the gun into the air, just to draw the Doctor's attention, and perhaps figure out how the hell he was going to proceed.
Petulance -- not just a human emotion, it would seem.
There was something more, there had to be. He couldn't kill the Doctor; not when there was no immediate threat to himself or team which necessitated death. He'd be no better than the mercenary Judoon, and the thought of such a connection was so revolting that Ianto felt physically nauseous. But what was he supposed to do?
"Oh no, and leave you to tinker around my base? Do I have to remind you of that time on Nythos?"
As Jack stubbornly crossed his arms in a standoff with the Doctor, Ianto realized that all was lost. Not lost, per say, but any hope of apprehending the Doctor for any of his outstanding charges or sending him away to protect the Earth from whatever destruction was trailing in his wake vanished with Jack's teasing tone. He didn't even know if he could do anything given Jack's defense of the Doctor and his own refusal to admit the truth of who and what he was. It'd just be blamed on Torchwood One, or a recurrence of the nightmares before.
Before. Gods, he acted like it was years ago, not weeks, since he'd learned that there was cause behind his visions and the terrors of the days.
Fuck, Jack might even go with the Doctor again.
With reservation, Ianto clicked on the safety and withdrew from his gun-ready stance, quietly stepping aside without pulling any attention to himself. There was nothing he could do at the moment in regards to the Doctor. Nothing. And while guilt and responsibility gnawed away at his resolution, he pushed it aside. Jack was the leader of Torchwood Three, and if he chose to go on a bloody chase for these Mellonians, Ianto would have everything ready that the team might need to transport or contain them.
It was his duty. Even if his personal duty felt absolutely shredded.
Owen's eyes tracked him as he moved, probably waiting for some indication of mental collapse. Maybe it was concern. Ianto couldn't care less as he began mentally tallying everything he needed to load in the SUV. SUVs. They should take two if it was a transport job...
"I won't be alone, Mr. Jones will keep me company."
Ianto stopped. Everyone stopped. If the Hub had a pulse, even that stopped as well. For having wanted attention earlier, the attention now was unnerving. No one focused their attention on the man who had actually voiced the pronouncement, which Ianto found distinctly unfair. It wasn't like he'd asked the Doctor to request he stay. If anything, he wished to be as far from the man as possible.
"It's probably not more than a three person job, right, Jack? I could stay here and monitor any police response ... "
"No." Jack cut Gwen off with an added sharp wave of his hand, surprising Ianto with the vehemence of his response as Ianto wasn't entirely sure the emotional response wasn't directed at him. Jack's stare certainly was, his eyes boring into Ianto's to the point he assumed there would be two holes at the back of his head from the intensity. But what Ianto had done to deserve any of it, he wasn't sure, though the tiny debacle with the gun had most certainly soured Jack's attitude towards him. However, Jack wouldn't have taken him to task in front of the team for it, would he? Ianto knew he was kidding himself, of course Jack would have; standard leadership practices were never really Jack's forte. "This requires the team, so I'll need you there. Ianto and the Doctor can stay back and update us as necessary."
He couldn't stop the wince at being so offhandedly dismissed from inclusion in the 'team', despite recent history indicating the contrary. It still stung, and as Ianto resolutely remained expressionless as Jack continued his unnerving stare, he felt the first temptations of doubt enter his thoughts regarding his place in Torchwood. Was he still around, memories intact, because Jack didn't trust Retcon to effectively wipe out the history of Torchwood from his mind? Was he there for amusement? Because no one else wished to clean the lavatories? Was his relationship with Jack -
No. Ianto categorically denied any such thought and banished it from his mind . While their relationship had fallen askew over the past days, Jack must trust him. Otherwise why he was permitting Ianto full access within the Hub and all systems if he doubted Ianto's loyalty? He was being monitored, but Ianto had to believe that was for concern of his safety, not because the rest believed him a threat to Torchwood.
Still, Ianto couldn't help but acknowledge the unease and disappointment gnawing away at his insides.
Then again, he was lying to his team and to his ... to Jack. Perhaps he deserved it.
Jack moved first, though he never turned away. He just pointed in a general direction (the coffee machine, Ianto noted, and he certainly hoped that Jack wasn't going to instruct them to take the machine along with them as a gift to the Mellonians) with orders for Gwen to phone Rhys and borrow a lorry while they loaded up in the SUV. And still his eyes never left Ianto's, making Ianto desperately wish he could actually read Jack's thoughts so that he'd have some inkling as to what Jack was trying to impress upon him. Most likely along the lines of "if you shoot the Doctor I will hunt you down and you'll beg for mercy," but Ianto couldn't be certain of the tilted frown and lips smashed into a thin line, an expression of Jack's Ianto typically associated with visible restraint and masked agitation, not threat of harm. Threat of anything, really.
Oh, to have Tosh's necklace in this instance.
Ianto raised his chin -- defiance really his only viable option in face of absolute confusion -- and nodded as though he understood what the hell Jack meant in a gesture that reminded him far too much of his return from suspension following Lisa's death. Not since then had he been so uncertain of Jack's intentions, but the one thing he desperately latched on to was that Jack believed that he would not shoot the Doctor in his absence. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as it appeared, maybe Jack was just following whatever orders the Doctor had (not so) subtly laid out for Torchwood Three.
But damned if the lack of trust wasn't unfounded. He was lying to Jack, lying to the rest of the team. He was breaking every promise and betraying Jack quite possibly worse than he had with Lisa, because at least then he hadn't fought so hard to establish that confidence. As well, he should have mentioned his unease to Jack, in case there was an additional threat to the Hub. Ianto knew of at least fourteen protocol violations he was incurring by not saying anything despite awareness of a threat. But he couldn't, and most importantly, he knew he wouldn't.
"Jack..."
Ianto blinked in surprised as the natural sounds of the Hub battered him from all sides ones more, from the cascading water in the tower to the low whirrs of computer fans to Myfanwy rustling her wings in her aerie to Tosh's voice, quavering as she commanded Jack's attention. He'd lost himself and time within Jack's stare, and he was none the wiser for the action. Disgustingly unsettling, or perhaps that was the continued presence of the Doctor who would be upsetting him greater if not for the dampening touch softening the harsh edges of knowledge that had threatened to overwhelm him earlier.
Jack seemed just as surprised for the loss of time, however, and that soothed Ianto's pride just a bit as Jack's face remained like marble save for the twitch of his cheek, right near his eye, a suppressed grimace manifesting if one was as familiar with the man as Ianto. The hesitant step forward was something different, however, something new for Ianto's mind to rapidly process with all the other information circulating. Panic-threat, was Jack to stun him before he left? Tie him up to protect the Doctor? Warning? Confusion as he stopped, maybe reassuring hug though they were far from that point in their relationship, months ago, when Ianto may have believed it possible but the likelihood no longer probable. He'd done enough damage through his withdrawal from Jack that they never really touched.
Whatever it was vanished before Ianto could understand, the brief flash of openness buried beneath an artificial megawatt smile that lacked any warmth or honest emotion. "You two kids don't cause any trouble while we're gone." Ianto didn't move as Jack stepped forward in full confidence and typical captain arrogance -- the previous hesitation long forgotten -- and remained still even as Jack leaned forward to say whatever he intended for Ianto's ears only. "We'll talk, later. I want answers."
And for a moment, just a tiny fraction of a moment that tasted fleetingly of the swirling purple and jade lightning upon the pier, Ianto believed Jack was going to kiss him,there in front of the others and the Doctor. Jack was so close that Ianto could smell the coffee on his breath mingling with the hint of 51st century pheromones and he had to admit that combination fueled by intensity was heady as hell. On any other day, at any other time ...
Jack pulled away before Ianto could form a decision, or perhaps even a question, just the hint of thought of missing Jack before it vanished with a pivot, a sharp angular turn towards the cog door and the team waiting impatiently for their leader to rush into the unknown once again to risk life and limb for the sake of Britain.
They kept doing it over and over, no questions asked, and Ianto wondered how long it would be before his team failed to reappear in full at day's end. The life of a Torchwood employee was short, and he nor Jack would always be there to protect. However on this day, Ianto believed the team far more safe out in the world fighting aliens than inside the Hub with two aliens they didn't know to hunt.
It would have amused Ianto if the truth wasn't so troublesome.
Ianto watched as the team filed out. Jack's great coat slipped past the cog door as it rolled to a close, symbolically cutting him off from his team, from the outside world, but at the same time an underlying thread of reassurance that the Doctor would remain contained within Torchwood, though Ianto didn't fool himself into believing that the Doctor couldn't leave when and where he damned well chose.
"They'll be fine, the Mellonians are generally a peaceful lot."
Spinning slowly on his heel, Ianto quickly calculated the distance from his person to the Doctor's based on the sound of his voice, reaching the unnerving conclusion that he was far closer than when Jack had left. He couldn't put a finger on it, the root of the anxiety setting every nerve aflame and hair on edge, but it was truly visceral, not imagined, as even his fingernails felt like they were curling in rejection of the Doctor. He'd felt it before, with Wesley, with various aliens Torchwood had encountered that had truly been deviant of nature, but Ianto couldn't reconcile the revulsion with the savior of worlds Jack had painted with his stories and respect. They didn't fit. They just didn't.
Before he finished rounding on the Doctor, Ianto applied the smile he used for difficult visitors to the Information Center. Jack trusted him not to shoot the Doctor while he was away; Ianto would honor him by his restraint. "Would you care for a coffee, sir?" Just as he'd figured, the man stood just a few steps away, staring at him with near the same intensity that Jack had earlier. For a frightening moment before he reassured himself, Ianto feared that somehow he'd changed back and his marks were showing.
Contrary to what Ianto expected, the Doctor's face broke out into a broad smile that Ianto believed was actually truthful.
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his feet in such fashion Ianto hadn't seen but on a giddy tot and the man ratcheted up in Ianto's 'disturbing' scale. "So you're the Ianto Jones I keep hearing about."
Ianto settled his hands on his hips and attempted to maintain an air of professionalism, despite the urge to rattle Jack for having apparently discussed him with the Doctor as well as the overwhelming craving to remove this current threat to Earth. It wasn't just a whim, he knew. Instinctual, perhaps? Odd, but not completely unexpected given his previous experiences. Disarming, for certain, as Ianto knew logically it was a function of who he had become, not who he once knew himself to be. And if that was no longer true, did he have any clue who he was currently?
Professionalism. He could maintain professionalism no matter how much his mind screamed at him that the figure in front of him was responsible for such horrible things. As it was, Ianto held his gaze to the left of the Doctor, just over his shoulder. Information still bled into his awareness like a punctured balloon, but at least the effect was tolerable. "It's possible, though the name is quite common. A tour of the base, then, if you prefer? I'm afraid the grand entrance was negated by your arrival within the Hub, but I'll attempt to compensate."
"You really don't like me, do you?" Ianto couldn't quite mask his wince as the Doctor side-stepped directly into the path of his eyes; grinning like a fool, which did nothing for Ianto's patience while he put on a pair of glasses with thick brown frames. At the rate the Doctor was going, Ianto wasn't quite sure there'd be pieces of the Doctor left before Jack's return. Not that he'd do anything himself, but Janet might find this particular type of alien tasty. "Why is that, Mr. Jones?"
The Doctor stepped into his field of vision yet again, a shift-step dance that seemed to amuse the Doctor more than it ought and Ianto began silently cursing the Doctor, his ancestors, and everyone remotely connected to the name. Including Jack. And even Martha, despite the woman's charms. "Liking you is irrelevant, otherwise I would not have hesitated to shoot you." Ianto smiled, though not at the Doctor but rather the memory his words dredged up. He wasn't proud of shooting Owen, but he would do it again, if necessary, for the sake of the world and for Jack. For Jack, mostly, and that thought did frighten him a bit. "If you'd rather, I can take you to the surface."
"Nope! You're far more interesting." Despite his best efforts to remain emotionless, Ianto couldn't help it as his eyebrow rose in disbelief and cynicism while the Doctor spoke. The man was definitely mad, perhaps not in the same fashion as he had been diagnosed, but if Jack tolerated this lunacy, than why had he ever been committed? "Besides, it unnerves Jack to think about me roaming about his base so what point would there be in leaving it? Come then, Mr. Jones, Martha asked for my help for Jack's partner, though I'm rather surprised to find you here as she'd implied that you were, ah, in an alternate location for safe keeping. Partner? Is that the term used now? Partner ... lover ... husband ... ooh! The Kleetons on the planet Pyrhon -- lovely place, dreary weather -- they say, well, translated, 'heart'. Isn't that charming? In fact, I was there ... "
As the Doctor babbled -- Ianto really had no better term for the sheer deluge of words spilling forth from his mouth -- Ianto listened with half an ear focused on the actual content, but most of his attention was directed at what the Doctor was doing. He roamed while he talked, picking up various gadgets from everyone's workstations, inspecting them, sometimes prodding them with a finger before setting them down again with a seemingly careless lack of respect. Once he even brought out his sonic screwdriver, a name Ianto could have stated from his experience at Torchwood One without the name supplying itself within his mind. A directed 'zap' from the screwdriver and Ianto knew instantly that the device would work when Tosh returned. He didn't have to wait for Tosh's return however, as the Doctor smiled in boyish glee and flipped a switch Ianto assumed was the 'on' button. The Hub was instantly filled with light, nothing glaring or brilliant but a speckled rainbow of color like a million multi-faceted prisms shattering white light, which reflected off every surface, including a number of blotches decorating the Doctor's face and he assumed his own as well.
Ianto knew the name before the Doctor spoke.
"Altaran disco ball. Brilliant."
As he spoke the points of light moved, the colors changing in tempo with the pattern of the Doctor's voice. Ianto wasn't sure what disturbed him the most -- that disco wasn't limited to just earth, or that the Doctor found the promise of a billion dancing lights in ever-changing colors which followed rhythm and volume set to music as an enlightening experience. Ianto rather thought he himself would be suffering vertigo as a result in a matter of moments from just the vocally influenced pattern much less any rapid rhythm or changes in tone. He figured it was fairly easy to assume that the Altarans did not possess human vision or neural processing.
Then again, he didn't either. Or maybe he did. Ianto simply hadn't evaluated that yet.
Thankfully, the Doctor just as quickly turned the device off and returned it to Tosh's desk before Ianto could politely request the action. His head was already pounding from the tension and adrenaline and the dizzying lights were simply making it worse. Not that the Doctor appeared to be aware of or in any way concerned for Ianto's well-being; he rather believed the Doctor was actually only conscious of his own self but he firmly resolved not to speak of such things. Giving the thoughts room to breathe and grow within his mind would simply encourage a slip of the tongue at an inopportune moment and while the Doctor appeared almost childish in his apparent curiosity, Ianto knew him for what he was. Dangerous. Deadly.
"Don't!" The command slipped from his lips before Ianto could stop them, his hand out-stretched before he consciously evaluated the action and the response. But the Doctor's hand had stopped, poised a fraction of an inch above another device looking for all intents and purposes like an inert blob of metal, maybe a paperweight. "Don't touch that, sir."
The Doctor's expressionless face confused Ianto, it seemed to Ianto that the natural reaction to such a sharp request would be surprise and perhaps question, but the lack of anything at all led Ianto to believe the man simply didn't know what he was reaching out to touch or he didn't care. Or perhaps it was something else, Ianto's subconscious tickled a warning, no, not a warning, a suggestion. A hint or motivation. But no matter the reason, Ianto felt compelled to explain himself. "That's a Class C Ylpfaxorian subatomic particle disruptor, designed as a mine. It's deactivated right now and won't arm without its key, but if you zap it with your sonic screwdriver and alter the internal components, you risk detonating it. Sir." Ianto added, almost as an afterthought. Test Ianto's subconscious was screaming at him as he watched the Doctor withdraw his hand yet never react to the information, which at the very least would have startled Ianto had he been the one receiving it.
"According to Ms. Sato," the Doctor began as he held up the clipboard containing Toshiko's preliminary notes on the device, his index finger quickly skimming over her handwriting, "the device has unknown origins and might be a weapon, might be a toaster."
It didn't take but a moment before Ianto realized his error, a quick wave of panic flashed over him before resolute logic replaced it. He plucked the clipboard from the Doctor's hands before the other man could comment and using a pen from Tosh's desk, quickly jotted down the words "weapon" and "subatomic particle disruptor mine" in the header while he casually lied about the source of his knowledge. "I've encountered blueprints for this device in the Archives; I wasn't aware we had a functional one on the premises."
With a polite, quick smile directed at the Doctor, he replaced the clipboard and stepped away from Tosh's desk, straightening the cuffs of his suit coat as he moved out of habit and for distraction. He didn't know if it'd work on the Doctor, but Jack had always refocused on the action, rather than the previous conversation. "Can I interest you in a cup of tea, sir?" Ianto kept a watchful eye on the Doctor now, uncertain whether he could trust the man to keep his hands to himself and not destroy the Hub in the process; a task made even more difficult with the disgust and anger still raging through him no matter the comforting presence within his mind. It was difficult and awkward, and above all, Ianto hated feeling that in what should have been the comfort of the Hub's sanctuary.
"You are a curious one, Mr. Jones." Ianto watched as the Doctor slipped the glasses from his face and into his pocket, an action Ianto believed had more importance than the innocent gesture purported. "Martha phoned me, left a message saying you had suffered an acute attack of a suspicious nature affecting your perception and awareness of reality. She was in a bit of a panic -- I might even go so far as to say she likes you, and if you have her respect then you have mine. Brave girl, saved you lot more than once, and she wondered if I knew anything that might have caused it or could treat it. I must admit, I've never heard of such a thing, not caused by an external source nor a psychological one so quickly reversed."
'Well, that was a kind way of saying I was hallucinating,' Ianto thought, though the smile he reserved for the most testing Information Center visitors never fell. He faintly remembered Tosh saying something about Martha phoning a friend for assistance while he had been at Providence, but for some reason he had never linked the friend to the Doctor. A misjudgment and failure on his part. "I can assure you, sir, that time of crisis has long since passed." He tried to calculate how much time had passed since Martha had phoned the Doctor, but could only be vague as time had lost much of its meaning within those walls. "Nearly two months have passed since she phoned, I'm afraid your presence is a bit ... " Unnecessary? Unwanted? Get the hell off my planet and never come back? None of the phrases were polite to say the least, and he had been raised far better than that. "... ill-timed."
To Ianto's annoyance, the Doctor just grinned broadly. "You really don't like me, do you Mr. Jones?" he repeated, and Ianto had nothing more to say than he had the first time the Doctor had spoken those words. So for sake of the (unwanted) guest in the Hub and for Jack, he remained silent. His silence seemed to do little to reduce the Doctor's unending exuberance however. "Well, then. Let's get to the TARDIS then, shall we? Martha will be asking for the results of a scan and I have no inclination to lie to Ms Jones. Jones. You two aren't related, are you? Oh, that'd be brilliant, can't think why I didn't ask before."
"No, we're not related," Ianto replied almost offhandedly as his mind whirled around what the Doctor had said, and more importantly, how to evade the matter entirely. Not that he lacked confidence with his own body to reveal any trace of alien -- every single test run by Owen (and Martha) to the extent of using alien scanning technology simply proved him human with nothing to the contrary. But ... Ianto knew that whatever the Doctor possessed would most likely not be in the same league of technology that Owen's was. In fact, the thought of the tech the Doctor might possess was downright chilling.
He'd be lucky if he didn't pass out as he had at Lester's from the overwhelming onslaught of new technology and all its uses given he'd be stepping into a bloody spacecraft..
Smiling, Ianto adopted the same tone he used when he was informing Jack of the day's schedule as he casually clutched his hands behind his back. For all he knew from Torchwood One, the Doctor could not see through solid matter and so his white knuckles would be hidden and he would have an outlet for any tension that might cause his voice to shake. Disturbing, how a year of hiding Lisa had taught him so much. "I thank you for the offer, sir, but a scan is unnecessary and I would hate to be a frivolous burden on your time."
"Nonsense, I insist!" The Doctor nearly bounced with excitement, a trend Ianto found both tiresome and engaging. To possess such a seemingly unending core of energy would make a fortune if bottled and sold on the market, and for a fleeting moment, Ianto wondered if the Doctor wasn't perhaps on some form of strong alien amphetamine. "Besides," the Doctor said as he spun, taking in the overhead flight of Myfanwy with a barely suppressed 'ooh!', "if I know Jack, he'll be reassured and less of a mother hen if I run some scans and settle any lingering questions." He stopped the spin precisely where he had started it, Ianto noted, hands stuffed in his trouser pockets, displacing his overcoat in such a Jack fashion he had to wonder who was imitating who. But that question quickly evaporated as the Doctor's face grew far more serious than Ianto had seen since their 'guest' had arrived. "Why do you think Jack agreed to leave you alone with me?"
Ianto opened his mouth to respond and, to his shame, found he had no response to give. He quickly pressed his lips together and hoped the Doctor hadn't noticed. Logic leaned towards acceptance of the Doctor's question; Jack's actions were irrational at best, given the scene just minutes ago with Ianto armed and threatening the very same Doctor he had been left with. It was ridiculous to feel betrayed as he'd been guilty of lying to Jack for some time now. If Jack believed the Doctor would give him answers and it suspended the suspicion and the monitoring ... it could explain Jack's actions immediately before he left. The intense stare, nothing spoken just Jack trying to imprint ... something ... on Ianto before the team left. Ianto had set that aside within his mind to figure out at a less challenging time but perhaps .. fuck. He had no idea what the hell Jack had meant as nothing in the course of the past hour had been logical.
Applying logic didn't stop him from feeling the betrayal, deserved or not.
It also didn't stop the anger directed at the Doctor for using such dirty tactics to get Ianto to submit to the tests, a submission that seemed purely sought to satisfy the Doctor's curiosity.
Or maybe it was simply fear on his part that was fueling the stubborn refusal.
The Doctor's expression never changed, though Ianto was certain his eyes missed nothing of his inner debate, pitifully thin as it might have been. And for the moment, Ianto hated the man for more than the deaths and destruction that filled his mind. "Jack agreed because he believed I would not kill you in his absence," Ianto countered, feeling somewhat justified with the argument, and he knew it fully accurate, even if it failed to address the true question. But he ceded to the Doctor's point that perhaps with the Doctor's tests, maybe the cameras would be removed from his home at the very least. Not that he'd admit it. "Martha requested the scans?"
The Doctor lost his serious expression as quickly as he had adopted it, the resulting shift in tenor hard for Ianto to follow. "Still have the voice mail if you want to verify."
With a slight head shake, Ianto signaled that verification wouldn't be necessary; he didn't see a choice that wouldn't be akin to a neon blinking light screaming his deceit. He just hoped that whatever the tests revealed, that there would be no indication of anything 'wrong' with him, from an alien point or anything remotely connected to his mother's illness.
Both left far too many consequences and questions that Ianto wasn't prepared to deal with.
And while he trusted Jack, Ianto most certainly didn't trust this destroyer of worlds standing before him, no matter the crises he might have averted.
Resigned and mentally preparing himself for whatever he might see inside, Ianto followed the eager man to the doors of the blue police box.
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