Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 7/40)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: mentions past non-con/dubious consent, minor (very minor) het, verbal and mental abuse.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 7
London, Canary Wharf
2006
A police box. It was a faded blue police box standing in the middle of the cargo bay of Torchwood London. And, it was…well, it wasn't doing anything really. It was just sitting there, serene and absolutely harmless looking.
The fifty bulletproof vested guards with their assault guns, however, said otherwise.
"What's going on?" Ianto whispered. Lisa was tugging him over to a gap among the crowds for a better look. "Wait-Lisa!" Ianto dug in his heels. He refused to be dragged here and fro like luggage.
"We can't see from here. Bugger, now they want us to evacuate," Lisa scowled when she noticed one of the guards was trying to herd the technicians away. She made a little hop to see above a head. "Bloody hell, when did everyone get so tall?"
"Lisa, I promise if you do not tell me-"
"It's him!" Lisa pointed excitedly between two broad shoulders to the innocuous police box. She grabbed him by the shoulders and practically used him as a battering ram and pushed through two people he vaguely recognized from the Engineering section.
"Sorry," Ianto mumbled at the foul look he was getting, but Lisa was determined to get a better look at…whatever that was.
"I can't believe it," Lisa whispered excitedly in his ear. "After all these years, we finally get to see him in person. "Oh God, I wonder if he'll blow something up again? I mean, there had only been sightings and-Ianto, aren't you excited?" Lisa finally calmed down enough to realize Ianto was giving her a puzzled frown.
Ianto furrowed his brow. "Um…" He pointed to the general direction of the box.
Lisa nearly shook his arm off. "Ianto Jones, how can you not know that's the Doctor?"
"Doctor…who?"
Lisa gaped at him like he was mad. "Ianto, you're not joking, are you?"
Ianto blinked when it dawned on him. "Wait, wait, wait. That Doctor? But Torchwood was established back with Queen-that's over a hundred years ago! That can't be him!"
"Time travel! He travels time and space in that box!"
Ianto pursed his lips, cocked his brow at his girlfriend.
"He time travels…in that?" Ianto pointed to the box their security officers were closing in on. Ianto stared at it for a long moment. He turned back to Lisa.
"A bit cramped, don't you think?"
Before Lisa could reply, before they were hurried towards the emergency, the door to the police box opened.
Everyone froze, even Director Hartman stilled, her hand still up from trying to direct her men around the blue stand. Everyone looked with huge eyes as a pale hand crept around the door, then, with a flourish, the doors parted with a wooden rattle and a slim man with light hair, dressed in a black suit walked out with a broad step.
He looked left and right, smiling, not at all bothered there were dozens of laser sight dots aimed on his head and chest.
"Good morning!" His voice rang across the large space without ever raising it. He tilted his head, his hands still on both doors, as his mouth curved to almost a sneer.
"And which one of you is the director of this…Torchwood?"
Yvonne Hartman, when she had first been recruited for Torchwood London, had been told it was for Queen and country. For the British Empire. The Doctor was enemy number one since day one. He brought death, anarchy, and storms that could rip apart planets. Aliens feared him, monsters avoided him, and the Doctor was master of time and space.
She hadn't expected him to be so…charming.
"Madam Director." The kiss to her knuckles was light; it rivaled the hooded eyes that stayed with her while he dipped his head to brush his lips across her skin. It felt like a warm fire lit under her, a flicker of heat wavered up her body.
"Doctor," Yvonne was proud her voice remained steady. She cleared her voice, well aware that almost a hundred people were watching. "Welcome to Torchwood London."
"Thank you, I have heard much about this place…and you."
"Oh." An odd flutter was in her stomach. "And I've read much about you…" Yvonne paused. "Should I be calling you…?"
In one neat gesture that told her he'd done this before, the dapper gentleman pulled the hand he held, tucked it into his right arm. He offered her a very congenial smile that made her feel like she was the only one standing in the room.
"Please, Director Hartman. Doctor would be fine."
"Y-yvonne," she corrected him. Damn, her voice quivered like a school girl. His eyes were as dark as gazing into the night sky. It promised the universe if she would only look closer. Closer…
"I…" She cleared her suddenly dry mouth. "We have questions, Doctor."
"Of course." He didn't sound surprised. In fact, he looked quite pleased. "And I can provide answers, but perhaps not here?" He scanned the room and winced delicately. "I'm not a public speaker, I'm afraid. I'm not that kind of doctor."
Yvonne was horrified to find herself burst into a short laugh, bordering on a giggle. Good Lord, yes, somewhere else might be good to contemplate the universe living behind those eyes and preserve her dignity. She glanced behind her in question.
"Oh, she'll be fine," the Doctor waved a hand in the air towards the odd blue structure, shaking his head dismissively. "I wouldn't advise going in though." He leaned to her and Yvonne obliged by tilting her head close enough she felt a shiver when his hot dry breath tickled her bare throat.
"I have a guard dog inside," the Doctor whispered. He pulled back and winked. "Nasty. Bit of a bitch really if you pardon my language. Last time someone tried to go in…" He stuffed his fist in his mouth, pretending to gag himself. He gave a mock shudder. "Mm! Poor thing. I never did find the rest of the intruder…"
Yvonne was sure he was jesting, but she swallowed when the Doctor lowered his fist and leveled his gaze at her. She couldn't tear away.
"Y-yes…yes. Of course. We'll seal the area off. We can talk in my office."
The smile she got in return both warmed and chilled her as they left.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
It’d never felt so empty like this before.
Jack sat there, in the dark, wondering as he had wondered since Malcassairo, whatever had possessed him to tell the Doctor about Torchwood. It was like he couldn't deny the Doctor anything. Not that it was a big secret, really. He didn't think telling him the Queen's response to him saving her life was to build an institute. An institute whose sole purpose was to recapture him ; her gratitude was to label the Doctor as public enemy number one.
"Ingrate," Jack muttered. He looked around his living quarters. He wished the Doctor hadn't put the TARDIS to sleep. Jack understood it was to not upset her or damage her (because he was so wrong) but it was eerie in the silent chamber. He missed feeling her around him, like a blanket or like his increasingly inadequate greatcoat. Now, everything felt artificial and cold and empty. The cages of coral that were the spine of the ship now felt like ordinary carved stone.
Like a tomb.
For some reason, the analogy sent a chill down his spine. Oh, irony of ironies. Wasn't he here so a tomb could be possible in his future?
Time, the Doctor explained, was against him. The vortex inside Jack regenerated too quickly to truly siphon enough to make a difference. The days of agonizing treatments trying to leech forever out of him were failing. In other words, Jack was still immortal; still wrong in their eyes.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, Jack Harkness.
Swallowing, Jack rubbed his palms against his pants. He had been told to wait. Stay with the TARDIS and (in the Doctor's words) stay out of trouble while the Doctor talked to Torchwood's director. What they could possibly talk about, what Torchwood could possibly offer the Doctor, Jack hadn't a clue. But the longer he waited the hollower and chilled he was feeling.
"They could be dissecting him right now," Jack muttered, ignoring the fact that he hadn't felt like this since Station five, the game station.
Dark, empty, and remote. So devoid of life. Like how the Doctor described Jack: empty of real life, standing still in the void of space.
His chest tightened and it felt like the walls were closing in, trying to force him out. Jack sat on his bed that still smelled faintly like the Doctor, and gripped the edge of the mattress just as hard as when the Doctor had breached him last night without warning. Jack was sleeping fitfully, recuperating from his last session, and woke to the false sensation of a caress on his hair, before he was roughly flipped onto his stomach.
But the Doctor had stayed with him; all night as he told Jack his plan to come here. The Doctor, despite Jack's failings, still wanted to find some way to fix Jack Harkness. The drumming, his Doctor said, would sustain him for now. The excruciating pain, the Time Lord chanted to him, was nothing. Like Jack was nothing. It was necessary, his Doctor said, to fix him.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
Listen to the drumming, Jack was told. Only to that, the Doctor ordered, and not to his cries of pain or the TARDIS' distress. It was nothing. It was necessary; to fix something because Jack was wrong.
It hurt to even think about it.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
But it made sense.
Even as the Doctor moved inside him, snarling how disgusting Jack felt around him, how the scent of the vortex on his skin repulsed him, the Doctor was still going to find a way to save him. So Jack wouldn't be alone or left behind again.
Something pricked in the corner of his eye.
Jack waited for his Doctor to return because of course he'd return. The TARDIS would welcome her Doctor home. This was the TARDIS, sleek and coiled in warm, welcoming coral. She was home like her predecessors had been for many Time Lords during the Doctor's time. She wasn't made of metal and wires and Dalek dust and artificial air. She was real. She was a presence waiting for her Doctor. Jack, on the other hand…
That tightness in his chest returned. Jack wondered if it had ever gone away or was it merely lurking in hiding like the insidious curse corrupting him from the inside out.
He needed to find the Doctor. Wrong or not, Jack knew he should be by the Doctor's side.
The captain got up to his feet, taking a deep breath until everything steadied around him. He hated how the treatments always made him feel so…detached afterwards for a long time. The Doctor said it was because he was fighting the process, his body greedily trying to hold on to forever.
Jack closed his eyes briefly. "I don't want this," he repeated. He was sure of it. Eternity alone was like standing on the shores of Boeshane with an empty hand. Jack told himself this every time he climbed up on the platform. He chanted it even when he wanted to cry out in pain. Sooner or later, his body would stop betraying the Doctor.
But right now…
Jack shuffled carefully to the door. He resisted the urge to run. He didn't know what to expect here on this 21st century Torchwood, but it wasn't going to deter him.
The Doctor was probably in trouble, Jack reasoned. He had to leave the TARDIS. The Doctor needed him.
As Jack steered for the outside doors, Jack ignored how eerily familiar his footsteps sounded in the mute TARDIS. Hollow metal rapped under his feet and reminded him how dust tasted in his throat. Jack didn't think about it, but his hands shook when he reached for the door.
Definitely needed to pick up Chinese now.
Dr. Singh was sure to keep all his assistants, including Lisa, working until late. The director declared the odd blue police box was off-limits before she shut herself in with the Doctor and her top team of scientists.
Lisa gave Ianto a peck on the cheek as apology and ran after Dr. Singh with an armful of readings from the CCTV that recorded the Doctor's rather unusual arrival.
Ianto Jones stood five meters away from the box, well outside the yellow Caution ribbon someone had put up around the station. He'd snuck in because returning to his quiet, predictable archives didn't appeal to him today. He studied the structure, his arms folded in front of him, frowning at the item standing among the crated alien artifacts the Cardiff branch had sent over last month. Maybe because he worked in the archives, he was more fascinated with the object than the man Director Hartman seemed enthralled with. Must be from dealing with all those alien artifacts. Less guesswork, no unpredictable behavior and they all fit in categories and labels. No surprises. Ianto hated surprises.
A complete circuit around it and Ianto stopped, his lips pursed as he came to a conclusion.
It was just a bloody police box, for God's sake. A 1960's police box to be precise. Would it be filed under "p" or "d" perhaps? Wait, the alien referred to himself as "The Doctor" so should it be "t" instead?
The faded blue painted object was as unimpressive as its owner. Ianto had expected a towering figure, perhaps reminiscent of Churchill with a booming voice and a mass to match it.
Ianto hadn’t thoughtthe Doctor would be so…short.
A rather impolite snort broke free before he could stop himself. Ianto muffled himself behind the back of his hand. Mustn't offend the Doctor. Bringer of death and master of time and space you know. Besides he’d only seen the alien from a distance, but he really did expect some dashing cut of a figure to step out of an equally impressive spaceship. At the very least out of a machine out of Wells' novel. Ianto was definitely not expecting it to look so ordinary.
Ianto muttered to himself as he cocked his head to the left and noted the worn, faded blue paint. Hm, traveling through time and space was most certainly hard on its exteriors.
Ianto stifled a giggle. This was probably why he was assigned to the archives. This attitude wasn't fit for aliens, otherworldly creatures or people who looked oddly like funeral directors.
"Shut up, shut up," Ianto muttered to himself behind the cuff of his sleeve. He took a step back; not that the box would be offended-oh bollocks, there he went again. He bit his lower lip and swallowed his giggle and wondered if perhaps it wasn't hysteria he was reacting to. It was an alien artifact, after all. And Ianto had only encountered strange debris washed up from the Rift and dead alien corpses already encased in jars. This…well, this was different and months in the basement certainly hadn’t prepared him for this.
How did he even travel in that thing? It was a tiny box. Maybe there was room for one person to stand-Oh, that couldn't be fun. Standing inside a closet, spinning through time and space.
Ianto, as he studied the structure, drew closer and closer to it until he was barely a meter away and close enough to notice a scar on the wood that was deep enough to show the grain under the paint. Ianto blinked when it occurred to him he could read the sign by the telephone box. He began to back away when the door behind him opened silently.
Ianto yelped when a foot collided with his back and he felt a body topple against him. His arms flailed, his legs tripped over each other and he pitched forward. His chin hit the floor with a display of blinding stars.
Legs, arms, tangled as both tried to correct themselves and with an mutual "Oof!", they crashed to the floor.
Ianto lay there on his stomach feeling very crossed at himself. It was bad enough he snuck past security to see this, but to trip over one of the guards too? Ianto groaned to himself. Wonderful.
"Sorry." Ianto pushed himself with his elbows. "I can explain."
"Well," a baritone voice said with a little bit of wry humor. "I would very much like to hear this one."
Ianto blinked, looked back to the weight over his legs and found himself staring at the palest blue eyes he'd ever seen.
Oh.
"You're not one of the guards," Ianto stammered.
The man, still looking amused, got up with a grace that belied the greatcoat tangled around his legs. He bent slightly towards Ianto, extending out his hand.
"No," a brilliant, white teeth smile was offered to him. "I'm not."
Ianto stared at him, momentarily speechless. "You came out of that box," he realized out loud. "You're an alien?" Ianto hadn't expected aliens to look so…unalien. Then again, the last alien he’d just seen looked more like a boring, quiet professor. This one had on odd period clothing, World War II maybe, short dark mussed up hair, and he looked nothing like a professor.
"You don't look alien," Ianto blurted out. Almost immediately, he flushed. Again, the reason why he preferred the archives. He might have just started World War III here.
The alien who didn't look like an alien tilted his head. "Should I sit back down for this?" He wiggled his fingers, waiting.
Ianto stared up at him. Oh. "Sorry," he said sheepishly and reached out, grabbing the hand in front of him. It was a little cool but firm as it hauled him back up on his feet. Ianto hopped once as he regained his footing.
"Thank you," Ianto brushed the dust off his suit. When he straightened up, it was right into that intense blue gaze again.
"Uh…hello," Ianto couldn't think of anything else to say. Greetings from Earth perhaps?
"Hello," the other returned easily enough.
"…Hello…" Bugger, why can't he think of anything else to say? Ianto wished Lisa was here. She would most certainly know.
Dark eyebrows knitted in concern. "You're not going to pass out on me, are you?" He reached out a hand by Ianto's arm, waiting.
Ianto blinked, caught off-guard. "Pass-what?"
"Never mind." The hand now moved front and Ianto automatically offered his in a very human handshake.
"Captain Jack Harkness."
Ah yes, he looked like he would be a captain-Wait, a captain of what? He came out of a tiny police box!
"And you are?" Harkness invited.
"Oh! Ah, Jones! Ianto, Jones!" Ianto stammered.
The hand felt warmer now and was firm, but not too tight as Harkness shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Jones, Ianto Jones." When Harkness released his hand, Ianto felt oddly bereft. "Where is he?"
"Who?" Ianto asked absently as he rubbed his hand against his suit. His hand felt like it didn't belong to him anymore.
Harkness' friendly expression darkened. "The Doctor."
"He's still with our Director. This area's sealed otherwise I would take you to them."
The captain-Ianto was tempted to ask him captain of what-looked a little nonplussed. He studied his surroundings, appearing a little uncertain.
"I can assure you he is alright," Ianto said quietly.
Ianto guessed right because Harkness looked at him, carefully, before he minutely relaxed.
"Sorry," Harkness shrugged as if he didn't care, but his eyes still darted around the cargo bay. "He was taking a while. I was worried he was either being dissected or-"
"Or he’d abandoned you," Ianto lightly returned, smiling reassuringly.
A flash of panic flitted across Harkness' face, so acute, Ianto felt ill for saying it.
"Not likely," Harkness laughed, strained. "His ship won't ever leave without him." Harkness waved at the police box behind him.
The lines still remaining at the corners of Harkness' mouth made Ianto feel horrible. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I've spoken inappropriately." He wasn't sure what though.
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did," Ianto could see the odd echo of misery in the startling blue eyes and it made him sick to his stomach realizing he’d put it there. "I'm a horrible, horrible man. Please don't blow up my planet on account of it, Captain."
The laugh that burst out surprised Ianto and seemed to surprise Harkness as well.
Harkness smiled at him. "I don't think you're a horrible man," the captain told him. "I think you're a beautiful boy who's trying too hard to think of the right thing to say."
Ianto blinked, not sure how to respond to being referred to as "beautiful". Especially not by someone who could fit under that category himself. At least, he was sure Lisa would think so. Harkness was "beautiful". For a man.
"I'm twenty two," Ianto pointed out, because anything else he could think of would get him in an awful amount of trouble. Or blow the planet up. Either would be very bad. "Hardly a boy."
Harkness looked unexplainably sad. "Trust me. Compared to me? You are." Harkness' eyes clouded and looked older than his face. They looked lost, displaced and Ianto had the uncanny sense he'd seen them before.
But then the captain cleared his throat and the moment was gone.
"I should really be with the Doctor," Harkness hedged, looking a little fidgety.
"I'm sorry," Ianto murmured. And he truly was. "I barely snuck in. I doubt I can sneak you out." At the frown Harkness made, Ianto thought quickly. "But how did you fit in that box with the Doctor?" One would have been cramped, but two?
Harkness arched an eyebrow at Ianto. "How do you think two people can fit in a police box?" He chuckled when Ianto fumbled for a response. Harkness dropped a companionable hand on Ianto's shoulder. "How about a tour?"
There was a brief hesitation when Ianto reached the Caution tape. But when Harkness merely stepped over it, his broad shoulders slipping easily through one door, Ianto took a deep breath.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered. Ianto could only imagine Lisa's expression if she could see him. He rounded back his shoulders, walked over the tape (and nearly tangled his ankles on it), and entered the police box, fully expecting to collide right into the captain's back.
He didn't expect to trip down some stairs.
"Are you alright?" Harkness hurried over and helped Ianto to his feet. There was laughter in his voice as it pleasantly rumbled off Ianto's ear. "Sorry, I should have warned you about those steps."
"Yes," Ianto griped, his face burning. Extraterrestrial explorer indeed. Oh, he made a great Torch-Ianto started.
"I-I…" Ianto really should have remained in the archives today.
"Bigger than she looks on the outside, huh?" Harkness said with a little pride in his voice. "I have the lights on, but the Doctor has her in lockdown right now so I can't really show you much-"
"You call her a she," Ianto mumbled as he scan the chamber he was in. It was…it was spectacular, golden stone crawling up the domed walls that reminded him of Westminster.
"Huh." Harkness shrugged. "Always thought of her as a she. You people have a habit of feminizing your crafts that way." He smiled with a fondness Ianto would associate with a lover. Harkness stroked the center pedestal edge with the back of his hand. "I can see why though."
Ianto had his eyes on the ceiling again, absently trying to calculate its height. "So you and the Doctor travel in this-Oops." His heel caught one of the stone vines that wove into the floor.
Strong arms went around his shoulder, pulling him up against a hard body before he fell. "Careful," Harkness sounded close to his ear. "Be a shame if you broke that pretty neck of yours." He smiled at Ianto, still holding on.
Ianto stared unblinking at him. For a reason beyond him, Ianto couldn't say why he didn't step back now that he was steady again. Eyes that looked familiar yet so unlike anything he’d ever seen riveted him to the spot.
Harkness' eyes drifted to his mouth. He swallowed. "If I was a better man," he murmured. "I would kiss you right now."
"I…I don't understand," Ianto asked in a daze.
The pale blue eyes cleared and Harkness stepped back with a clap on Ianto's shoulders. "There you go," he said gruffly. "Watch your step next time."
Before Ianto could gather up his brain which seemed to have dissolved into his shoes, a smooth voice cut the air.
"Now, isn't this cozy?"
Ianto lifted his head and caught a flicker of fear in Harkness' eyes before he spun around and saw the Doctor and the director standing in the chamber.
"Making friends, Captain?" The smile the Doctor gave Ianto made him shiver.
Chapter 8
Additional Notes: Many thanks to snakeling for betaing this chapter long ago. Yes, I finally finished and can start reposting! Huzzah! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: mentions past non-con/dubious consent, minor (very minor) het, verbal and mental abuse.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 7
London, Canary Wharf
2006
A police box. It was a faded blue police box standing in the middle of the cargo bay of Torchwood London. And, it was…well, it wasn't doing anything really. It was just sitting there, serene and absolutely harmless looking.
The fifty bulletproof vested guards with their assault guns, however, said otherwise.
"What's going on?" Ianto whispered. Lisa was tugging him over to a gap among the crowds for a better look. "Wait-Lisa!" Ianto dug in his heels. He refused to be dragged here and fro like luggage.
"We can't see from here. Bugger, now they want us to evacuate," Lisa scowled when she noticed one of the guards was trying to herd the technicians away. She made a little hop to see above a head. "Bloody hell, when did everyone get so tall?"
"Lisa, I promise if you do not tell me-"
"It's him!" Lisa pointed excitedly between two broad shoulders to the innocuous police box. She grabbed him by the shoulders and practically used him as a battering ram and pushed through two people he vaguely recognized from the Engineering section.
"Sorry," Ianto mumbled at the foul look he was getting, but Lisa was determined to get a better look at…whatever that was.
"I can't believe it," Lisa whispered excitedly in his ear. "After all these years, we finally get to see him in person. "Oh God, I wonder if he'll blow something up again? I mean, there had only been sightings and-Ianto, aren't you excited?" Lisa finally calmed down enough to realize Ianto was giving her a puzzled frown.
Ianto furrowed his brow. "Um…" He pointed to the general direction of the box.
Lisa nearly shook his arm off. "Ianto Jones, how can you not know that's the Doctor?"
"Doctor…who?"
Lisa gaped at him like he was mad. "Ianto, you're not joking, are you?"
Ianto blinked when it dawned on him. "Wait, wait, wait. That Doctor? But Torchwood was established back with Queen-that's over a hundred years ago! That can't be him!"
"Time travel! He travels time and space in that box!"
Ianto pursed his lips, cocked his brow at his girlfriend.
"He time travels…in that?" Ianto pointed to the box their security officers were closing in on. Ianto stared at it for a long moment. He turned back to Lisa.
"A bit cramped, don't you think?"
Before Lisa could reply, before they were hurried towards the emergency, the door to the police box opened.
Everyone froze, even Director Hartman stilled, her hand still up from trying to direct her men around the blue stand. Everyone looked with huge eyes as a pale hand crept around the door, then, with a flourish, the doors parted with a wooden rattle and a slim man with light hair, dressed in a black suit walked out with a broad step.
He looked left and right, smiling, not at all bothered there were dozens of laser sight dots aimed on his head and chest.
"Good morning!" His voice rang across the large space without ever raising it. He tilted his head, his hands still on both doors, as his mouth curved to almost a sneer.
"And which one of you is the director of this…Torchwood?"
Yvonne Hartman, when she had first been recruited for Torchwood London, had been told it was for Queen and country. For the British Empire. The Doctor was enemy number one since day one. He brought death, anarchy, and storms that could rip apart planets. Aliens feared him, monsters avoided him, and the Doctor was master of time and space.
She hadn't expected him to be so…charming.
"Madam Director." The kiss to her knuckles was light; it rivaled the hooded eyes that stayed with her while he dipped his head to brush his lips across her skin. It felt like a warm fire lit under her, a flicker of heat wavered up her body.
"Doctor," Yvonne was proud her voice remained steady. She cleared her voice, well aware that almost a hundred people were watching. "Welcome to Torchwood London."
"Thank you, I have heard much about this place…and you."
"Oh." An odd flutter was in her stomach. "And I've read much about you…" Yvonne paused. "Should I be calling you…?"
In one neat gesture that told her he'd done this before, the dapper gentleman pulled the hand he held, tucked it into his right arm. He offered her a very congenial smile that made her feel like she was the only one standing in the room.
"Please, Director Hartman. Doctor would be fine."
"Y-yvonne," she corrected him. Damn, her voice quivered like a school girl. His eyes were as dark as gazing into the night sky. It promised the universe if she would only look closer. Closer…
"I…" She cleared her suddenly dry mouth. "We have questions, Doctor."
"Of course." He didn't sound surprised. In fact, he looked quite pleased. "And I can provide answers, but perhaps not here?" He scanned the room and winced delicately. "I'm not a public speaker, I'm afraid. I'm not that kind of doctor."
Yvonne was horrified to find herself burst into a short laugh, bordering on a giggle. Good Lord, yes, somewhere else might be good to contemplate the universe living behind those eyes and preserve her dignity. She glanced behind her in question.
"Oh, she'll be fine," the Doctor waved a hand in the air towards the odd blue structure, shaking his head dismissively. "I wouldn't advise going in though." He leaned to her and Yvonne obliged by tilting her head close enough she felt a shiver when his hot dry breath tickled her bare throat.
"I have a guard dog inside," the Doctor whispered. He pulled back and winked. "Nasty. Bit of a bitch really if you pardon my language. Last time someone tried to go in…" He stuffed his fist in his mouth, pretending to gag himself. He gave a mock shudder. "Mm! Poor thing. I never did find the rest of the intruder…"
Yvonne was sure he was jesting, but she swallowed when the Doctor lowered his fist and leveled his gaze at her. She couldn't tear away.
"Y-yes…yes. Of course. We'll seal the area off. We can talk in my office."
The smile she got in return both warmed and chilled her as they left.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
It’d never felt so empty like this before.
Jack sat there, in the dark, wondering as he had wondered since Malcassairo, whatever had possessed him to tell the Doctor about Torchwood. It was like he couldn't deny the Doctor anything. Not that it was a big secret, really. He didn't think telling him the Queen's response to him saving her life was to build an institute. An institute whose sole purpose was to recapture him ; her gratitude was to label the Doctor as public enemy number one.
"Ingrate," Jack muttered. He looked around his living quarters. He wished the Doctor hadn't put the TARDIS to sleep. Jack understood it was to not upset her or damage her (because he was so wrong) but it was eerie in the silent chamber. He missed feeling her around him, like a blanket or like his increasingly inadequate greatcoat. Now, everything felt artificial and cold and empty. The cages of coral that were the spine of the ship now felt like ordinary carved stone.
Like a tomb.
For some reason, the analogy sent a chill down his spine. Oh, irony of ironies. Wasn't he here so a tomb could be possible in his future?
Time, the Doctor explained, was against him. The vortex inside Jack regenerated too quickly to truly siphon enough to make a difference. The days of agonizing treatments trying to leech forever out of him were failing. In other words, Jack was still immortal; still wrong in their eyes.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, Jack Harkness.
Swallowing, Jack rubbed his palms against his pants. He had been told to wait. Stay with the TARDIS and (in the Doctor's words) stay out of trouble while the Doctor talked to Torchwood's director. What they could possibly talk about, what Torchwood could possibly offer the Doctor, Jack hadn't a clue. But the longer he waited the hollower and chilled he was feeling.
"They could be dissecting him right now," Jack muttered, ignoring the fact that he hadn't felt like this since Station five, the game station.
Dark, empty, and remote. So devoid of life. Like how the Doctor described Jack: empty of real life, standing still in the void of space.
His chest tightened and it felt like the walls were closing in, trying to force him out. Jack sat on his bed that still smelled faintly like the Doctor, and gripped the edge of the mattress just as hard as when the Doctor had breached him last night without warning. Jack was sleeping fitfully, recuperating from his last session, and woke to the false sensation of a caress on his hair, before he was roughly flipped onto his stomach.
But the Doctor had stayed with him; all night as he told Jack his plan to come here. The Doctor, despite Jack's failings, still wanted to find some way to fix Jack Harkness. The drumming, his Doctor said, would sustain him for now. The excruciating pain, the Time Lord chanted to him, was nothing. Like Jack was nothing. It was necessary, his Doctor said, to fix him.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
Listen to the drumming, Jack was told. Only to that, the Doctor ordered, and not to his cries of pain or the TARDIS' distress. It was nothing. It was necessary; to fix something because Jack was wrong.
It hurt to even think about it.
…thrum-thrum-tap-tap…
But it made sense.
Even as the Doctor moved inside him, snarling how disgusting Jack felt around him, how the scent of the vortex on his skin repulsed him, the Doctor was still going to find a way to save him. So Jack wouldn't be alone or left behind again.
Something pricked in the corner of his eye.
Jack waited for his Doctor to return because of course he'd return. The TARDIS would welcome her Doctor home. This was the TARDIS, sleek and coiled in warm, welcoming coral. She was home like her predecessors had been for many Time Lords during the Doctor's time. She wasn't made of metal and wires and Dalek dust and artificial air. She was real. She was a presence waiting for her Doctor. Jack, on the other hand…
That tightness in his chest returned. Jack wondered if it had ever gone away or was it merely lurking in hiding like the insidious curse corrupting him from the inside out.
He needed to find the Doctor. Wrong or not, Jack knew he should be by the Doctor's side.
The captain got up to his feet, taking a deep breath until everything steadied around him. He hated how the treatments always made him feel so…detached afterwards for a long time. The Doctor said it was because he was fighting the process, his body greedily trying to hold on to forever.
Jack closed his eyes briefly. "I don't want this," he repeated. He was sure of it. Eternity alone was like standing on the shores of Boeshane with an empty hand. Jack told himself this every time he climbed up on the platform. He chanted it even when he wanted to cry out in pain. Sooner or later, his body would stop betraying the Doctor.
But right now…
Jack shuffled carefully to the door. He resisted the urge to run. He didn't know what to expect here on this 21st century Torchwood, but it wasn't going to deter him.
The Doctor was probably in trouble, Jack reasoned. He had to leave the TARDIS. The Doctor needed him.
As Jack steered for the outside doors, Jack ignored how eerily familiar his footsteps sounded in the mute TARDIS. Hollow metal rapped under his feet and reminded him how dust tasted in his throat. Jack didn't think about it, but his hands shook when he reached for the door.
Definitely needed to pick up Chinese now.
Dr. Singh was sure to keep all his assistants, including Lisa, working until late. The director declared the odd blue police box was off-limits before she shut herself in with the Doctor and her top team of scientists.
Lisa gave Ianto a peck on the cheek as apology and ran after Dr. Singh with an armful of readings from the CCTV that recorded the Doctor's rather unusual arrival.
Ianto Jones stood five meters away from the box, well outside the yellow Caution ribbon someone had put up around the station. He'd snuck in because returning to his quiet, predictable archives didn't appeal to him today. He studied the structure, his arms folded in front of him, frowning at the item standing among the crated alien artifacts the Cardiff branch had sent over last month. Maybe because he worked in the archives, he was more fascinated with the object than the man Director Hartman seemed enthralled with. Must be from dealing with all those alien artifacts. Less guesswork, no unpredictable behavior and they all fit in categories and labels. No surprises. Ianto hated surprises.
A complete circuit around it and Ianto stopped, his lips pursed as he came to a conclusion.
It was just a bloody police box, for God's sake. A 1960's police box to be precise. Would it be filed under "p" or "d" perhaps? Wait, the alien referred to himself as "The Doctor" so should it be "t" instead?
The faded blue painted object was as unimpressive as its owner. Ianto had expected a towering figure, perhaps reminiscent of Churchill with a booming voice and a mass to match it.
Ianto hadn’t thoughtthe Doctor would be so…short.
A rather impolite snort broke free before he could stop himself. Ianto muffled himself behind the back of his hand. Mustn't offend the Doctor. Bringer of death and master of time and space you know. Besides he’d only seen the alien from a distance, but he really did expect some dashing cut of a figure to step out of an equally impressive spaceship. At the very least out of a machine out of Wells' novel. Ianto was definitely not expecting it to look so ordinary.
Ianto muttered to himself as he cocked his head to the left and noted the worn, faded blue paint. Hm, traveling through time and space was most certainly hard on its exteriors.
Ianto stifled a giggle. This was probably why he was assigned to the archives. This attitude wasn't fit for aliens, otherworldly creatures or people who looked oddly like funeral directors.
"Shut up, shut up," Ianto muttered to himself behind the cuff of his sleeve. He took a step back; not that the box would be offended-oh bollocks, there he went again. He bit his lower lip and swallowed his giggle and wondered if perhaps it wasn't hysteria he was reacting to. It was an alien artifact, after all. And Ianto had only encountered strange debris washed up from the Rift and dead alien corpses already encased in jars. This…well, this was different and months in the basement certainly hadn’t prepared him for this.
How did he even travel in that thing? It was a tiny box. Maybe there was room for one person to stand-Oh, that couldn't be fun. Standing inside a closet, spinning through time and space.
Ianto, as he studied the structure, drew closer and closer to it until he was barely a meter away and close enough to notice a scar on the wood that was deep enough to show the grain under the paint. Ianto blinked when it occurred to him he could read the sign by the telephone box. He began to back away when the door behind him opened silently.
Ianto yelped when a foot collided with his back and he felt a body topple against him. His arms flailed, his legs tripped over each other and he pitched forward. His chin hit the floor with a display of blinding stars.
Legs, arms, tangled as both tried to correct themselves and with an mutual "Oof!", they crashed to the floor.
Ianto lay there on his stomach feeling very crossed at himself. It was bad enough he snuck past security to see this, but to trip over one of the guards too? Ianto groaned to himself. Wonderful.
"Sorry." Ianto pushed himself with his elbows. "I can explain."
"Well," a baritone voice said with a little bit of wry humor. "I would very much like to hear this one."
Ianto blinked, looked back to the weight over his legs and found himself staring at the palest blue eyes he'd ever seen.
Oh.
"You're not one of the guards," Ianto stammered.
The man, still looking amused, got up with a grace that belied the greatcoat tangled around his legs. He bent slightly towards Ianto, extending out his hand.
"No," a brilliant, white teeth smile was offered to him. "I'm not."
Ianto stared at him, momentarily speechless. "You came out of that box," he realized out loud. "You're an alien?" Ianto hadn't expected aliens to look so…unalien. Then again, the last alien he’d just seen looked more like a boring, quiet professor. This one had on odd period clothing, World War II maybe, short dark mussed up hair, and he looked nothing like a professor.
"You don't look alien," Ianto blurted out. Almost immediately, he flushed. Again, the reason why he preferred the archives. He might have just started World War III here.
The alien who didn't look like an alien tilted his head. "Should I sit back down for this?" He wiggled his fingers, waiting.
Ianto stared up at him. Oh. "Sorry," he said sheepishly and reached out, grabbing the hand in front of him. It was a little cool but firm as it hauled him back up on his feet. Ianto hopped once as he regained his footing.
"Thank you," Ianto brushed the dust off his suit. When he straightened up, it was right into that intense blue gaze again.
"Uh…hello," Ianto couldn't think of anything else to say. Greetings from Earth perhaps?
"Hello," the other returned easily enough.
"…Hello…" Bugger, why can't he think of anything else to say? Ianto wished Lisa was here. She would most certainly know.
Dark eyebrows knitted in concern. "You're not going to pass out on me, are you?" He reached out a hand by Ianto's arm, waiting.
Ianto blinked, caught off-guard. "Pass-what?"
"Never mind." The hand now moved front and Ianto automatically offered his in a very human handshake.
"Captain Jack Harkness."
Ah yes, he looked like he would be a captain-Wait, a captain of what? He came out of a tiny police box!
"And you are?" Harkness invited.
"Oh! Ah, Jones! Ianto, Jones!" Ianto stammered.
The hand felt warmer now and was firm, but not too tight as Harkness shook his hand. "Nice to meet you Jones, Ianto Jones." When Harkness released his hand, Ianto felt oddly bereft. "Where is he?"
"Who?" Ianto asked absently as he rubbed his hand against his suit. His hand felt like it didn't belong to him anymore.
Harkness' friendly expression darkened. "The Doctor."
"He's still with our Director. This area's sealed otherwise I would take you to them."
The captain-Ianto was tempted to ask him captain of what-looked a little nonplussed. He studied his surroundings, appearing a little uncertain.
"I can assure you he is alright," Ianto said quietly.
Ianto guessed right because Harkness looked at him, carefully, before he minutely relaxed.
"Sorry," Harkness shrugged as if he didn't care, but his eyes still darted around the cargo bay. "He was taking a while. I was worried he was either being dissected or-"
"Or he’d abandoned you," Ianto lightly returned, smiling reassuringly.
A flash of panic flitted across Harkness' face, so acute, Ianto felt ill for saying it.
"Not likely," Harkness laughed, strained. "His ship won't ever leave without him." Harkness waved at the police box behind him.
The lines still remaining at the corners of Harkness' mouth made Ianto feel horrible. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I've spoken inappropriately." He wasn't sure what though.
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did," Ianto could see the odd echo of misery in the startling blue eyes and it made him sick to his stomach realizing he’d put it there. "I'm a horrible, horrible man. Please don't blow up my planet on account of it, Captain."
The laugh that burst out surprised Ianto and seemed to surprise Harkness as well.
Harkness smiled at him. "I don't think you're a horrible man," the captain told him. "I think you're a beautiful boy who's trying too hard to think of the right thing to say."
Ianto blinked, not sure how to respond to being referred to as "beautiful". Especially not by someone who could fit under that category himself. At least, he was sure Lisa would think so. Harkness was "beautiful". For a man.
"I'm twenty two," Ianto pointed out, because anything else he could think of would get him in an awful amount of trouble. Or blow the planet up. Either would be very bad. "Hardly a boy."
Harkness looked unexplainably sad. "Trust me. Compared to me? You are." Harkness' eyes clouded and looked older than his face. They looked lost, displaced and Ianto had the uncanny sense he'd seen them before.
But then the captain cleared his throat and the moment was gone.
"I should really be with the Doctor," Harkness hedged, looking a little fidgety.
"I'm sorry," Ianto murmured. And he truly was. "I barely snuck in. I doubt I can sneak you out." At the frown Harkness made, Ianto thought quickly. "But how did you fit in that box with the Doctor?" One would have been cramped, but two?
Harkness arched an eyebrow at Ianto. "How do you think two people can fit in a police box?" He chuckled when Ianto fumbled for a response. Harkness dropped a companionable hand on Ianto's shoulder. "How about a tour?"
There was a brief hesitation when Ianto reached the Caution tape. But when Harkness merely stepped over it, his broad shoulders slipping easily through one door, Ianto took a deep breath.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered. Ianto could only imagine Lisa's expression if she could see him. He rounded back his shoulders, walked over the tape (and nearly tangled his ankles on it), and entered the police box, fully expecting to collide right into the captain's back.
He didn't expect to trip down some stairs.
"Are you alright?" Harkness hurried over and helped Ianto to his feet. There was laughter in his voice as it pleasantly rumbled off Ianto's ear. "Sorry, I should have warned you about those steps."
"Yes," Ianto griped, his face burning. Extraterrestrial explorer indeed. Oh, he made a great Torch-Ianto started.
"I-I…" Ianto really should have remained in the archives today.
"Bigger than she looks on the outside, huh?" Harkness said with a little pride in his voice. "I have the lights on, but the Doctor has her in lockdown right now so I can't really show you much-"
"You call her a she," Ianto mumbled as he scan the chamber he was in. It was…it was spectacular, golden stone crawling up the domed walls that reminded him of Westminster.
"Huh." Harkness shrugged. "Always thought of her as a she. You people have a habit of feminizing your crafts that way." He smiled with a fondness Ianto would associate with a lover. Harkness stroked the center pedestal edge with the back of his hand. "I can see why though."
Ianto had his eyes on the ceiling again, absently trying to calculate its height. "So you and the Doctor travel in this-Oops." His heel caught one of the stone vines that wove into the floor.
Strong arms went around his shoulder, pulling him up against a hard body before he fell. "Careful," Harkness sounded close to his ear. "Be a shame if you broke that pretty neck of yours." He smiled at Ianto, still holding on.
Ianto stared unblinking at him. For a reason beyond him, Ianto couldn't say why he didn't step back now that he was steady again. Eyes that looked familiar yet so unlike anything he’d ever seen riveted him to the spot.
Harkness' eyes drifted to his mouth. He swallowed. "If I was a better man," he murmured. "I would kiss you right now."
"I…I don't understand," Ianto asked in a daze.
The pale blue eyes cleared and Harkness stepped back with a clap on Ianto's shoulders. "There you go," he said gruffly. "Watch your step next time."
Before Ianto could gather up his brain which seemed to have dissolved into his shoes, a smooth voice cut the air.
"Now, isn't this cozy?"
Ianto lifted his head and caught a flicker of fear in Harkness' eyes before he spun around and saw the Doctor and the director standing in the chamber.
"Making friends, Captain?" The smile the Doctor gave Ianto made him shiver.
Chapter 8
Additional Notes: Many thanks to snakeling for betaing this chapter long ago. Yes, I finally finished and can start reposting! Huzzah! LOL.