Come walk the Hub sketches
Er, yeah. For Lali's birthday I promised I'd draw her a scene from one of her fics. She picked Come walk the Hub.
These are basically just doodles I did in the back of the car to sort out who's hands went where (mind's out of the gutter) and where their heads were.
Drawing comes from this section here;
The man glanced at Ianto, and started to protest, but Jack grabbed Ianto’s arm and hauled him down the nearest corridor. They rounded a few corners until the man’s voice had faded behind them, and then Jack was forced to stop as Ianto collapsed back against the wall, panting and shaking.
“Getting worse?” Jack asked, hanging back from reaching out to him again.
“Cold,” Ianto gasped simply.
At that Jack did reach out, and took hold of his hand. He swore, and pulled away again, but only to shrug out of his coat and put it around Ianto’s shoulders instead. Ianto was shivering too hard to be much help, but Jack managed to get his arms into the sleeves and fastened it up for him, pulling the belt tight and turning the collar up around Ianto’s neck.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he assured Ianto, cradling his face with one hand.
“You don’t really think that,” Ianto gasped, and, when Jack looked confused, he forced a smile and said, “You didn’t make any jokes about putting more clothes on me.”
Jack looked away, then said, “Ianto, what’s going on? How do you know about time-sickness? And how the hell have you got it?”
“I don’t know, I swear,” Ianto sighed, head falling back against the wall. “But it’s… I… Torchwood One. I felt it there. Before I knew Lisa. I…”
He trailed off, and they jumped again, causing him to give a cry of pain and double over, clutching at his sides. Jack gathered him into his arms, insistently asking, “What happened at Torchwood One? Ianto, what is this?”
“Where the hell did you come from?” someone else snapped, and they both looked at the woman pointing a gun at them.
“What year is it?” Jack asked her pleasantly. “It’s always easier to know where you’re coming from if you have some idea where you are.”
The woman glared, and said sharply, “You’re both under arrest. Get moving.”
“Whatever you say,” Jack said, with a shrug, as she faded out of view.
Ianto collapsed against him.
Swearing, Jack staggered backwards to the wall and slid down awkwardly, gathering Ianto to him and patting his face frantically.
“Ianto, come on, you’re not gonna die on me. You can’t do that to me.”
To his vast relief, Ianto stirred, groaning in pain and twisting in Jack’s hold. He forced his eyes open as much as he could, muttering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t. I couldn’t help it.”
“Couldn’t help what?” Jack asked, but Ianto seemed barely able to hear him, rambling on, “They caught me. They forced me. Trapped me. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to,” Jack told him firmly. “I promise. I’m gonna get you home somehow, Ianto, just you wait and see.”
These are basically just doodles I did in the back of the car to sort out who's hands went where (mind's out of the gutter) and where their heads were.
Drawing comes from this section here;
The man glanced at Ianto, and started to protest, but Jack grabbed Ianto’s arm and hauled him down the nearest corridor. They rounded a few corners until the man’s voice had faded behind them, and then Jack was forced to stop as Ianto collapsed back against the wall, panting and shaking.
“Getting worse?” Jack asked, hanging back from reaching out to him again.
“Cold,” Ianto gasped simply.
At that Jack did reach out, and took hold of his hand. He swore, and pulled away again, but only to shrug out of his coat and put it around Ianto’s shoulders instead. Ianto was shivering too hard to be much help, but Jack managed to get his arms into the sleeves and fastened it up for him, pulling the belt tight and turning the collar up around Ianto’s neck.
“You’re gonna be okay,” he assured Ianto, cradling his face with one hand.
“You don’t really think that,” Ianto gasped, and, when Jack looked confused, he forced a smile and said, “You didn’t make any jokes about putting more clothes on me.”
Jack looked away, then said, “Ianto, what’s going on? How do you know about time-sickness? And how the hell have you got it?”
“I don’t know, I swear,” Ianto sighed, head falling back against the wall. “But it’s… I… Torchwood One. I felt it there. Before I knew Lisa. I…”
He trailed off, and they jumped again, causing him to give a cry of pain and double over, clutching at his sides. Jack gathered him into his arms, insistently asking, “What happened at Torchwood One? Ianto, what is this?”
“Where the hell did you come from?” someone else snapped, and they both looked at the woman pointing a gun at them.
“What year is it?” Jack asked her pleasantly. “It’s always easier to know where you’re coming from if you have some idea where you are.”
The woman glared, and said sharply, “You’re both under arrest. Get moving.”
“Whatever you say,” Jack said, with a shrug, as she faded out of view.
Ianto collapsed against him.
Swearing, Jack staggered backwards to the wall and slid down awkwardly, gathering Ianto to him and patting his face frantically.
“Ianto, come on, you’re not gonna die on me. You can’t do that to me.”
To his vast relief, Ianto stirred, groaning in pain and twisting in Jack’s hold. He forced his eyes open as much as he could, muttering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t. I couldn’t help it.”
“Couldn’t help what?” Jack asked, but Ianto seemed barely able to hear him, rambling on, “They caught me. They forced me. Trapped me. I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to,” Jack told him firmly. “I promise. I’m gonna get you home somehow, Ianto, just you wait and see.”