if i only knew the answer, i wouldn't be bothering you; closed

Oct 23, 2009 03:15

((Continuation of this.))

Ianto slows to a stop after a quarter of an hour of running, lungs burning and hand throbbing with pain. Sprinting, he was good at sprinting, not running - even if he was running for his life (or something like it).

He heard only the one gunshot, but he knew he was being pursued, probably even still. Now that he's stopped running, he doesn't think he can start again. And as for his hand - well, he hates to say it, but he might just need a Doctor. (Come to think of it, a TARDIS would be handy for eluding the UNIT soldiers searching for him.)

He fishes his mobile out of an inner jacket pocket with his uninjured - and still handcuffed - hand, scrolling through the numbers. Not the Victorian one, no, no, he might already know what's going on. He needs an earlier one, one who would hop galaxies to help, one who trusts him just a bit too much. One, perhaps, who could be easily guilted.

The cricketer, then. Ianto shelters under a tree to keep out of sight, just in case, and dials the number.

scene, with: the_5thdoc, verse: brbg

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