Resonating Through Time -- Leading Back to Rome
Title: Leading Back to Rome
dwtwprompts prompt: Magical
Date Written: 4/22/08
Rating: PG-13/T to be safe
Word Count: 1,577
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Team, Doctor
Spoilers: Torchwood seasons 1 & 2, major for To the Last Man and Something Borrowed
Warnings: Het AND Gay! Whoo-hoo!
Author's Notes: So, uh, I apparently got recced? *sweatdrop* Hello you people I don't know! Honestly, it's not that good, you lot are crazy. Chapter three of who knows?nine. And I really need a title for the series. Any suggestions?
1/9: Salt and Pepper
2/9: That's the Thing About Gloves, Sir.
In medieval Wales, United Kingdom, Earth, young men used to carve intricate spoons to give to heir sweethearts. The spoons included symbols carved into them, such as hearts for love and keys to signal protection. They also showed the girl's father that her suitor was capable of caring for a family. If the girl accepted the spoon, it was hung in the couple's house.
In the house Ianto had grown up in, a crudely-hewn spoon hung over the front door. His father was a horrible woodworker, always better with a needle and thread.
His mother still smiled whenever she saw it.
Toshiko left the Hub after packing away Tommy's clothing, Owen following after her barely five minutes later. Gwen was also looking upset and just a little bit lost on what to do with the rest of the day.
"Go home to Rhys, Gwen, and don't argue with me," he said, even as she opened her mouth. "We'll keep an eye on things."
"If you're sure..." she replied, gathering her things and patting down her jeans to make sure she had her mobile and car keys.
"I'm sure. Nothing me and Ianto can't handle for a bit, and if we can't, we'll call you in."
For some reason that upset Gwen and she flounced out of the Hub, muttering to herself in Welsh. Jack cocked his head to the side, scratching his head. Women. Even when he'd spent those two weeks as one, he'd still never understood them.
On Gallifrey, unions between Time Lords took place outside the Citadel, in the fields of long crimson grass. The ancestors of the Time Lords had erected an archway carved out of stone amid a grove of silver trees, in an area where the fabric of Space and Time was stretched thin. The Time Lords, in their reverence of times long past, had kept the landmark in pristine condition. Marriages between two (or sometimes more -- triads were not uncommon among the long-lived Time Lords) Gallifreyans took place underneath the arch, the lovers pledging themselves to one another for the rest of their remaining regenerations as their friends and family watched.
The Doctor had never gotten married. He'd had a beloved of course, a beautiful woman with a quick wit and a fiery spirit their children had inherited. She'd been a rebel too, refusing to go with the norm. Oh, they had tried, planned a wedding but it had never taken place; while their friends and family had been waiting, sitting underneath the trees for the happy couple, the happy couple had been busy conceiving their first child.
She'd fallen in battle against the Daleks, not long after their youngest child entered the Academy. She'd never seen their grandchildren, which was truly a pity.
It was only when his eldest son had gotten married, everyone happy and smiling as the sky faded into a burnt orange and leaves rained down upon them in shades of silver-gold, that the Doctor thought that maybe, just maybe, they should have gone through with it.
Jack found Ianto in the Archives, going through the group photographs of Torchwood teams that had come and gone, the box with Tommy's clothing in it at his feet. Even before he'd found his lover, Jack had known that Ianto was in a depressed mood, they all were.
Ianto turned when he heard Jack coming up behind him, holding out a sepia-colored picture of him and another Torchwood employee, a woman with close-cropped curly brown hair. "Susan!" Jack said with a laugh, taking the picture. "Susan Longfellow. You'd have liked her. Tough as nails." He winked at him and mouthed big lesbian as he handed the picture back.
Ianto managed a smile and tucked the snapshot back into its proper place. "You're in all of them, for a century. The evidence in our own Hub, and it took a bullet to the head for the others to realize that you couldn't die."
"None of them ever really spent any time here, if they needed something I'd get it for them. Especially after you banished them from your Archives."
"They should have paid more attention in school, Jack."
Jack laughed and held his hand out. "The others went home and, I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."
Ianto put the file up properly and shut the filing cabinet. "It has been a long day," the Welshman agreed, taking Jack's hand and letting his captain lead him out of the Archives.
The box was left on the floor.
In the 51st century Boeshane Peninsula, life was always in flux, and the culture reflected it. A lover that was there today could be dead tomorrow. The people learned to live for the moment, marrying and divorcing as the whim took them.
Official records weren't kept in the little volatile outposts like the one Jack had been born in, so marriages were rarely more than two little rituals that took place when a new couple moved in together; the owner of the house the couple were living in carrying the new resident over the thresh hold and, occasionally, an exchange of rings. Jack's parents had been married in a more archaic sense, with a ceremony that had been presided over by the mayor, and had stayed monogamous for their relationship.
Jack had been married four times before the Agency stole his memories: Richard, Lizzie, Tup and Crimson. Tup had dropped him when she'd tried to carry him through the door and they'd laughed and fucked right there in the open doorway.
They'd divorced three days later.
Tup had been a bridesmaid at his next wedding.
"It never works out, does it?"
Jack looked up at Ianto from across his desk. "What doesn't work out?"
"Relationships with people from across time," Ianto replied. The man was looking down at his cup of coffee, his dark hair hiding his blue eyes. "Toshiko and Tommy, Owen and Diane."
"It's a dangerous game to play," Jack said in a quiet voice. "It's the ultimate form of culture shock: Everyone speaks the same language, but none of the same values apply. I mean, look at how English slang has changed in the past... ten, twenty years."
"Early 21st century slang, is 'cheesy' bad or good?"
"Bad."
"But 'bad' means good, isn't that right?"
"Some people just can't handle it." He laced his fingers together, giving Ianto a critical look. "Ianto, if you want out--"
"No!" Ianto's head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with fright. "No, no, Jack, never, I just..." He sighed and set the mug on Jack's desk, finding a bare spot among the classified papers and reports strewn about it. "It's just, you won't die. Ever. I will. I might not wake up tomorrow. And even then, there's always the chance that something'll happen and we'll get stuck somewhere in the past or in the future, away from one another."
Jack pushed his chair back from his desk, beckoning Ianto over. When the Welshman did as he wanted, the Captain pulled his lover down into his lap. Ianto shifted a bit to get comfortable. He watched, his head cocked to the side in curiosity as Jack reached into his undershirt and brought out a golden necklace on a double chain. The pendant was plain and flat and a little thick, double-edged like a locket.
Jack reached behind him and undid one of the chains, twisting the pendant, which fell open in his hands. The inside was decorated, alien script that looked like cuneiform inlaid in stone into the metal, and dips that were in one side had complimenting raises on the other, so they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Ianto hadn't realized he'd reached for the other piece until he had fastened it around his neck. Once he realized what he had done, he reached back to undo the clasp, but Jack shook his head and took Ianto's hands into his. "It's for you anyway."
"Why? How--"
Jack touched his face with one hand, cupping his cheek to pull him close for a kiss. "I'm yours, 'Yan, for as long as you'll have me."
Ianto felt his heart stop for a moment, two. Then time righted itself and he felt himself smiling widely. "You'll regret that long life of yours then, Captain."
Jack laughed and hugged him close, bumping noses with him. "Never."
In the 21st century, in Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom, Earth, in a secret underground base, Jack Harkness gave Ianto Jones his half of a Vidara necklace.
Seventeen million, eight thousand four hundred and ninety-two light years away and seventeen Earth centuries before, a young Vidaran woman looked into a silver mirror and saw a split soul come together, the two halves fusing together in a brilliant flash of colored energy. Reverently, she picked up a brush and, dipping it in a pot of ink first, carefully wrote the names of the two splits in her own language.
The soul would endure much hardship, both as halves and as a whole. A protection spell for this one, hidden in a necklace, made of the strongest metal she could forge.
She smiled as she slowly sketched the design on her workstation. A human soul, too. Even if they figured out the function of a Vidara necklace, they'd never realize that a couple wearing Vidara jewelry was a legal form of marriage recognized by most intergalactic governments.
ETA: Chapter four here
dwtwprompts prompt: Magical
Date Written: 4/22/08
Rating: PG-13/T to be safe
Word Count: 1,577
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Team, Doctor
Spoilers: Torchwood seasons 1 & 2, major for To the Last Man and Something Borrowed
Warnings: Het AND Gay! Whoo-hoo!
Author's Notes: So, uh, I apparently got recced? *sweatdrop* Hello you people I don't know! Honestly, it's not that good, you lot are crazy. Chapter three of who knows?nine. And I really need a title for the series. Any suggestions?
1/9: Salt and Pepper
2/9: That's the Thing About Gloves, Sir.
In medieval Wales, United Kingdom, Earth, young men used to carve intricate spoons to give to heir sweethearts. The spoons included symbols carved into them, such as hearts for love and keys to signal protection. They also showed the girl's father that her suitor was capable of caring for a family. If the girl accepted the spoon, it was hung in the couple's house.
In the house Ianto had grown up in, a crudely-hewn spoon hung over the front door. His father was a horrible woodworker, always better with a needle and thread.
His mother still smiled whenever she saw it.
Toshiko left the Hub after packing away Tommy's clothing, Owen following after her barely five minutes later. Gwen was also looking upset and just a little bit lost on what to do with the rest of the day.
"Go home to Rhys, Gwen, and don't argue with me," he said, even as she opened her mouth. "We'll keep an eye on things."
"If you're sure..." she replied, gathering her things and patting down her jeans to make sure she had her mobile and car keys.
"I'm sure. Nothing me and Ianto can't handle for a bit, and if we can't, we'll call you in."
For some reason that upset Gwen and she flounced out of the Hub, muttering to herself in Welsh. Jack cocked his head to the side, scratching his head. Women. Even when he'd spent those two weeks as one, he'd still never understood them.
On Gallifrey, unions between Time Lords took place outside the Citadel, in the fields of long crimson grass. The ancestors of the Time Lords had erected an archway carved out of stone amid a grove of silver trees, in an area where the fabric of Space and Time was stretched thin. The Time Lords, in their reverence of times long past, had kept the landmark in pristine condition. Marriages between two (or sometimes more -- triads were not uncommon among the long-lived Time Lords) Gallifreyans took place underneath the arch, the lovers pledging themselves to one another for the rest of their remaining regenerations as their friends and family watched.
The Doctor had never gotten married. He'd had a beloved of course, a beautiful woman with a quick wit and a fiery spirit their children had inherited. She'd been a rebel too, refusing to go with the norm. Oh, they had tried, planned a wedding but it had never taken place; while their friends and family had been waiting, sitting underneath the trees for the happy couple, the happy couple had been busy conceiving their first child.
She'd fallen in battle against the Daleks, not long after their youngest child entered the Academy. She'd never seen their grandchildren, which was truly a pity.
It was only when his eldest son had gotten married, everyone happy and smiling as the sky faded into a burnt orange and leaves rained down upon them in shades of silver-gold, that the Doctor thought that maybe, just maybe, they should have gone through with it.
Jack found Ianto in the Archives, going through the group photographs of Torchwood teams that had come and gone, the box with Tommy's clothing in it at his feet. Even before he'd found his lover, Jack had known that Ianto was in a depressed mood, they all were.
Ianto turned when he heard Jack coming up behind him, holding out a sepia-colored picture of him and another Torchwood employee, a woman with close-cropped curly brown hair. "Susan!" Jack said with a laugh, taking the picture. "Susan Longfellow. You'd have liked her. Tough as nails." He winked at him and mouthed big lesbian as he handed the picture back.
Ianto managed a smile and tucked the snapshot back into its proper place. "You're in all of them, for a century. The evidence in our own Hub, and it took a bullet to the head for the others to realize that you couldn't die."
"None of them ever really spent any time here, if they needed something I'd get it for them. Especially after you banished them from your Archives."
"They should have paid more attention in school, Jack."
Jack laughed and held his hand out. "The others went home and, I don't know about you, but I could use a drink."
Ianto put the file up properly and shut the filing cabinet. "It has been a long day," the Welshman agreed, taking Jack's hand and letting his captain lead him out of the Archives.
The box was left on the floor.
In the 51st century Boeshane Peninsula, life was always in flux, and the culture reflected it. A lover that was there today could be dead tomorrow. The people learned to live for the moment, marrying and divorcing as the whim took them.
Official records weren't kept in the little volatile outposts like the one Jack had been born in, so marriages were rarely more than two little rituals that took place when a new couple moved in together; the owner of the house the couple were living in carrying the new resident over the thresh hold and, occasionally, an exchange of rings. Jack's parents had been married in a more archaic sense, with a ceremony that had been presided over by the mayor, and had stayed monogamous for their relationship.
Jack had been married four times before the Agency stole his memories: Richard, Lizzie, Tup and Crimson. Tup had dropped him when she'd tried to carry him through the door and they'd laughed and fucked right there in the open doorway.
They'd divorced three days later.
Tup had been a bridesmaid at his next wedding.
"It never works out, does it?"
Jack looked up at Ianto from across his desk. "What doesn't work out?"
"Relationships with people from across time," Ianto replied. The man was looking down at his cup of coffee, his dark hair hiding his blue eyes. "Toshiko and Tommy, Owen and Diane."
"It's a dangerous game to play," Jack said in a quiet voice. "It's the ultimate form of culture shock: Everyone speaks the same language, but none of the same values apply. I mean, look at how English slang has changed in the past... ten, twenty years."
"Early 21st century slang, is 'cheesy' bad or good?"
"Bad."
"But 'bad' means good, isn't that right?"
"Some people just can't handle it." He laced his fingers together, giving Ianto a critical look. "Ianto, if you want out--"
"No!" Ianto's head snapped up, his blue eyes wide with fright. "No, no, Jack, never, I just..." He sighed and set the mug on Jack's desk, finding a bare spot among the classified papers and reports strewn about it. "It's just, you won't die. Ever. I will. I might not wake up tomorrow. And even then, there's always the chance that something'll happen and we'll get stuck somewhere in the past or in the future, away from one another."
Jack pushed his chair back from his desk, beckoning Ianto over. When the Welshman did as he wanted, the Captain pulled his lover down into his lap. Ianto shifted a bit to get comfortable. He watched, his head cocked to the side in curiosity as Jack reached into his undershirt and brought out a golden necklace on a double chain. The pendant was plain and flat and a little thick, double-edged like a locket.
Jack reached behind him and undid one of the chains, twisting the pendant, which fell open in his hands. The inside was decorated, alien script that looked like cuneiform inlaid in stone into the metal, and dips that were in one side had complimenting raises on the other, so they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle.
Ianto hadn't realized he'd reached for the other piece until he had fastened it around his neck. Once he realized what he had done, he reached back to undo the clasp, but Jack shook his head and took Ianto's hands into his. "It's for you anyway."
"Why? How--"
Jack touched his face with one hand, cupping his cheek to pull him close for a kiss. "I'm yours, 'Yan, for as long as you'll have me."
Ianto felt his heart stop for a moment, two. Then time righted itself and he felt himself smiling widely. "You'll regret that long life of yours then, Captain."
Jack laughed and hugged him close, bumping noses with him. "Never."
In the 21st century, in Cardiff, Wales, United Kingdom, Earth, in a secret underground base, Jack Harkness gave Ianto Jones his half of a Vidara necklace.
Seventeen million, eight thousand four hundred and ninety-two light years away and seventeen Earth centuries before, a young Vidaran woman looked into a silver mirror and saw a split soul come together, the two halves fusing together in a brilliant flash of colored energy. Reverently, she picked up a brush and, dipping it in a pot of ink first, carefully wrote the names of the two splits in her own language.
The soul would endure much hardship, both as halves and as a whole. A protection spell for this one, hidden in a necklace, made of the strongest metal she could forge.
She smiled as she slowly sketched the design on her workstation. A human soul, too. Even if they figured out the function of a Vidara necklace, they'd never realize that a couple wearing Vidara jewelry was a legal form of marriage recognized by most intergalactic governments.
ETA: Chapter four here