Fic: Dominoes 1/2 Torchwood/Doctor Who
Title: Dominoes.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or Doctor Who.
Characters: Ianto, Martha, Jack, 10th Doctor, Gwen, Tosh, Owen, Francine, and Tish.
Words: 15350
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Pairing: Ianto/Martha - past Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack.
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Violence
Summary: Ianto is retconned after the events of Cyberwoman. Taken in by Martha, he eventually meets someone who can reveal his past.
Author's Note: Ianto suffers from Foreign Accent Syndrome in this story.
Theme Music: Toy Soldiers - Martika
______________________________________
In the distance, a can skid across the paving stones.
Spinning around, Ianto reached for the gun that was no longer there. Eyes wide, his chest heaved as he searched the alleyway. He jumped when a shadow crossed the corner of his eye. "Who's there?"
Horns blared as a car a few blocks over hit its breaks. Shouting echoed down the stone streets.
Ianto wiped his nose and mouth as he leaned back against the wall behind him. The normally reassuring feeling of the bricks provided little comfort. He was about to move on when the sound of boots hitting the pavement became audible. Sliding along the wall in the opposite direction, he searched about for a weapon.
There was nothing in his field of sight that could provide a defense. Part of the reason he had chosen the apartment on this alley had been the clear line of sight directly to the street. No rubbish bins or doorways aside from his own were there to provide camouflage. Now, he was regretting that decision.
A mist of breath was the first visible sign of his pursuer. Rounding the corner in to the alleyway, black military boots slapped against the stones. Hard blue eyes met Ianto's as he came near.
Swallowing in some what relief, Ianto closed his eyes. "Sir. You almost gave me a heart attack." When he opened them again, he found Jack almost upon him. Instinctively, he flattened himself against the wall. "Sir?"
The next instant, Jack's fist was flying.
Ianto barely had time to hunch over in to the attack before it was rocketed in to his gut. Eyes wide and watering, he gasped for breath. The next blow came from above. He went down like a lead weight at Jack's feet. He tried to curl up in anticipation of a kick, but was surprised to be stomped instead.
Crying out, Ianto curled his arms around his sore midsection as Jack's boot came down upon him again. When the sharp edge of Jack's heel clipped his side, a wash of bile flooded his throat. This time a kick came, sending him rolling in to the brick wall.
Ianto screamed when he felt more than one of his ribs snap. It suddenly became extremely difficult to breathe. His heart pounding drowned out all other noise, even the sound of his own moans of pain. When the next blow didn't come, Ianto uncurled enough to peer about. Through watery eyes, he found Jack kneeling a little ways off.
Jack was watching him, eyes blood shot and cheeks wet.
He wanted to ask the older man why, to beg for his life. But the pain in his chest caused him to gasp and his throat to constrict. As Jack reached in to his pocket, he shook his head feebly from side to side. Instead of the weapon he had thought, Jack pulled out a small bottle.
Scooting closer, Jack reached out and grabbed Ianto by the chin. Since the other man was in no position to fight back, he easily forced him to open his mouth. Jack uncapped the bottle and emptied the contents in to Ianto's mouth. He immediately forced the younger man's mouth closed and began to rub his throat.
Ianto coughed, trying to keep from swallowing the vile tasting liquid. He tried to shake his head from side to side, but Jack's hold was too strong. In the end, he ended up swallowing most of it, screaming through clenched teeth as it burned on the way down.
When he was relatively certain Ianto had swallowed it, Jack traced his fingers over Ianto's face. The tips lingered on the man's lips before he released him. Standing up, he clenched his jaw. With a sudden inhalation, he kicked Ianto across the face. He winced as the man's head collided against the brick wall with a wet thud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stumbling in to the hub as the doors retracted, Jack didn't make it to a bin before puking up the contents of his stomach. Falling over the catwalk, he landed on the cement floor next to his vomit. Instead of getting up, he laid there shaking.
Letting his head fall back, Jack closed his eyes against the bright lights of the hub. He could hear people talking, but couldn't make out the words over his own sobbing. When hands tried to check him for injuries, he shoved them away and curled on his side. He didn't want their help and knew he didn't deserve it.
Hands with unheeded strength rolled him on to his back. A slap across his face forced him to open his eyes. When he saw it was only Gwen, he gave a harsh sob and tried to turn away. Unfortunately, she had a burr up her ass and wasn't going to let him get away with self pity.
"Jack! What happened? Are you drunk?" She took an experimental sniff of his breath, frowning when the it was strong enough to singe her nostrils. With a scoff of disgust, she slapped him on the shoulder. "You are, you prat!"
Shoving her away, Jack tried to crawl away from her. "Leave me alone!"
"You know, I probably should. Would serve you well, Owen's right about that." Gwen forced her hands past Jack's curled up form so she could get a grip on his coat. It would take quite a bit of effort, but she could get him back up to the walkway. Standing up, she stood over his head and tried to drag him up the embankment.
To stop her, Jack jerked on his coat until it slipped from her fingers. This had the effect of slamming it against the cement under him, causing the contents of his pockets to fly out. The small bottle he had forced Ianto to drink from was one of these. Upon seeing it, Jack tried to snatch it back, but it rolled passed his grip.
Eyes landing upon Jack's distraction, Gwen frowned. Since she was already on her feet, it was only a small matter of crossing the short distance to the bottle. Picking it up, she sniffed at the open stopper with a frown. It stank of alcohol, but also of something else, something familiar. The shriek of the pterodactyl above seemed to draw it from her memory. "Retcon, Jack? Where have you been? Who did you use this on?"
"Give me that!" He made a grab for the bottle, but with his double vision, he snatched for the wrong one. "It's none of your business, now give it back to me!"
"We've been through hell this past day because of secrets, don't start the cycle again!" Holding the bottle at him in accusation, she slapped his hands away. "Now, where were you and who did you use this on?"
Laying back, Jack shook his head. "Doesn't matter, he's not coming back." Dragging his hand over his face, Jack started to chuckle. He knew it was hysteria coming on, but couldn't bring himself to care.
"He? He who?" Gwen was about to throttle him when she saw his knuckles. They were healing up, but a couple had most certainly been busted open. Then it clicked. "Oh god, Jack, please. Please, Jack, tell me you didn't."
"Not," he shook his head, emitting a high pitched, body aching laugh, "coming back."
Gwen dropped the bottle as she placed a hand over mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching as her sister giggled and twisted her hair, Martha felt the urge to get violently ill. Or may be it was just violent. They had been at the civic center for almost an hour as Tish searched for an occupation. With her sister's inability to stick with a chosen path, it was almost a lost cause. Still, with five months till graduation, Martha was going to make sure she chose one.
"Come on, I want to go." Stomping her foot like a child, Margaret Smith swayed from side to side. Her act was partially to get Martha's attention, and partially because she really felt like doing it. "This is driving me nutters!"
"Go, then. You don't have to stay, but I'm making sure Tish picks at least one." Speaking of which, it was beyond time to get her sister moving again. Martha was about to slap her sister upside her head when the man Tish was talking to jerked and looked away. Curious, she followed his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as everyone around her went silent.
Coming their way, all smiles and hand shakes, Minister Saxon was busy making sure he had a chance in the next general election.
"Would you look at that, acts like a rock star, he does." Tugging gently on Martha's ear, Margaret held her friend's shoulder steady. They were both on the verge of hysterical laughter over the crowd's reaction. "If the wee girls start throwing their underwear, I swear I'll forsake my oath and kill them all."
"Hush! You'll get us in trouble." Not that Martha would have minded. It was a welcome relief to the endless flirting Tish seemed to be engaged in. Suddenly, she pulled Margaret back with her. "Quick, he's coming this way. I don't want to be stomped on by stampeding chavettes."
"Oh lord god almighty, you'd have to bring them in to this." Rolling her eyes, Margaret glanced about the business stalls for a quick exit. When she found one, she pulled at Martha's jacket. "Come along, I found a way out of here."
"Hold on, I want to get Tish." Martha, having lost her sister in the melee, stood on the tips of her toes to look about. When she couldn't make out hide nor hair of her, she reached in to her jacket and pulled out her cell phone.
Margaret sighed, but dutifully waited with her friend.
The phone rang three times before Tish picked up. Relief and exasperation caused Martha to huff in to the line. "Where are you? These twits are giving me a headache and I want to get out of here."
"Go ahead, I'm busy." Tish's voice came out in a purr over the line. A second later, she was chuckling in a deep voice.
Pulling the phone away from her ear, Martha looked at it in disgust. "She's found another man!"
"Not just any man, the man himself." Margaret pointed through an opening in the crowd.
It took a little bending, but Martha could finally make out her sister. On Tish's arm was none other than Minister Saxon. "That does it, I'm gone." Slamming her phone shut, she started to walk away. It took her several steps to realize she had no idea where they were going.
Smirking, Margaret took Martha by the hand. "Come on, love, I'll lead you to safety."
Martha made no remark to this. She was just grateful to be out of there. Several times they had to swerve to avoid running in to people rushing to meet the Minister. By the time they had found the exit, she was near ready to tear her own hair out. "Never again! Never! I'll rip my own eyebrows off and eat dirt before I go to one these monsters again."
It was too amusing, Margaret couldn't leave it alone. "Tut, tut, Martha, never say never. There's another one in five months..."
That had been a mistake. Slugging her friend in the arm, Martha stomped her way in out through the side doors. Once on the sidewalk, she picked up her pace and left her bitching friend behind her. Coming out the side alley to a main street, she glanced at the clock on the corner. Her shift started in just under half an hour and she was too far away to walk.
Growling under her breath, she looked up and down the street for a cab. Spotting one, she started across the street for it when, out of no where, a blue sedan shot across her path. Martha had to jump back to avoid being hit. Landing with a cry of pain, she noticed the car had stopped. She was going to raise holy hell when the back driver side door flew open.
The figure in the back seat was cloaked all in black, but the bundle they tossed out was identifiably male. Not waiting for the door to shut, the driver hit the accelerator and the car shot off down the road.
Martha watched it turn the corner and disappear before focusing on the man in front of her. She winced as she crawled to her hands and knees, her left knee giving her trouble. Upon reaching him, she felt for a pulse.
He groaned in pain. Rolling on his side to alleviate it, he opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.
"Can you tell me your name." When she had his pulse and breathing, she began to run her hands gently over his body. There were at least four broken ribs she could feel. His left leg was bent at an odd angle and she didn't like the way his pupil kept losing focus.
"'s Ianto." Groaning through his nose, blood and snot started to run down his cheek.
When he tried to close his eye, she patted his cheek. "Hey! Stay with me, Ianto, you have to stay awake."
"Can't." He started to gasp, his chest jerking with the attempts to breathe. "Hurts."
"I know, I know." Martha pushed the hair off his forehead as she cradled him against her. "Come on, Ianto, stay with me. Don't go to sleep, you'll thank me for it later. Keep your eye open. That's it." In the distance, she could hear an ambulance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6 Months Later.
Using the sword shaped letter opener, Ianto slid it along the lip of an envelope. The post had arrived half a hour earlier, but he had waited until the office was cleared lunch before opening it. The brown envelope was nothing much to look at except for two official stamps saying where it had come from. Before he could remove the folded stationary inside, however, a hand landed on his shoulder.
Ianto flinched violently, knocking the person away from him. When he saw who it was, he smiled apologetically to her. "Sorry, Doctor Jones. I didn't hear you come in."
"It's quite all right, Ianto." Pushing herself up from the floor, Martha dusted off her bottom and checked for injuries. Finding nothing but her pride hurt, she smiled. "I guess I should have learned not to do that by now."
"Thank you." Once he had set down the papers on his desk and the files in an open cabinet drawer, he reached down to pick up the envelope.
Martha beat him to it. After quickly examining the front of the letter, she looked up at Ianto. "I see now. Do you want to talk about it?" She almost reluctantly gave him back the letter.
"Not as such. I mean, I only just opened it." He could see the burning desire in her eyes. The way she bit her lower lip as he pulled out the papers made him sigh. "All right." Ianto unfolded the papers and quickly scanned them. When he was finished, he closed his eyes and held them out to her.
Unable to contain her excitement, Martha quickly flipped them over and began to read them. She had to go over the first page three times before it made enough sense. "I don't get it. There must be a mistake."
"No mistake. I have officially been declared dead." Taking back the papers, he roughly stuffed them back in to the envelope. "Six months!" He spun his chair back around to face his desk and scooted in. He dropped the envelope in the bottom drawer before slamming it shut.
Martha looked down. She took a moment to compose herself after the disappointment. If she was feeling this way, she could only imagine how Ianto was. This time, she cleared her throat before she placed a hand upon his shoulder. "It's not fair."
"Since when is life fair? I don't even know who I am and some fucking peon at the Embassy has decided I never will either!" Face set, he drew up the papers for the next billing cycle on his computer. While he quietly, yet quickly, clicked his way through the Hospital's financial records, he ignored the fact Martha hadn't let him go.
After a few minutes of silence, Martha squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry you won't be allowed to go home."
He waved her off without looking away from his work. "Who cares, it's only America. I've probably seen it all any ways." When she squeezed his shoulder again, he had to bite his lip from choking up. The moment he was certain he wouldn't break down, he patted her hand. "Thank you, Martha."
"That's right. Besides, this is London, everyone wants to come here." Caught up in her own emotions, she bent down and wrapped her arms around Ianto's neck. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she blew across his ear. "My mother wants you to come up for dinner this weekend. You've put her off three times, Ianny, I'm not telling her no again."
He shuddered at the hated name. "Remind me to kill Dr. Morah for that." Giving her a cross look from the corner of his eye, he typed out the patient data from the file on his left. "I will only come if your sister is not there."
"She took a job in Minister Saxon's office working for his campaign last week. She no longer has weekends." Chuckling, she stood up and ruffled his hair. While he took the time to put it back in place, she placed a kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry, Ianto. You'll see that you like it here better than you would have in the States."
Ianto nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The London Eye was visible from wherever he went it seemed. No matter how far he tried to go, there it was always watching over him. He couldn't explain why, but something about the name itself lent him a feeling of security. As it lit up for the night, an action to dazzle the world and London, he felt it lose its hold over him.
His sigh escaped him in a great plume as the temperature dropped. Winter was still over a month away, but already the cold was rolling in off the Thames. It promised to be a bitter winter this year, not that he would remember. Just, that a few of the people in the office were complaining about their utilities already being higher than last year.
What he knew consisted of one month of recovering in Royal Hope Hospital, and five months of working there. His entire life revolved around the hospital, almost everyone he knew worked there. There were times he felt that there had been more once, but those were few and farther between. Now, it didn't really matter, he guessed.
If he hadn't the fortune to have met Martha, he would most likely have ended on the streets. She had gotten him the job, introduced him to her friends and family. He should have felt different than the way he did, not longing for things he couldn't have. The letter in his jacket pocket only confirmed the fact they weren't meant for him.
Still, he wondered what it would have been like to go back home.
Heaving another sigh, Ianto followed the well lit streets. His flat was only a few blocks from the hospital, but when he wasn't feeling himself, he would visit the Eye. Something about standing over the city and looking down upon it made him feel almost whole.
Couples passed him by, arm in arm and smiling. A mother and her daughter danced on the corner waiting for the light. Two little boys chased a dog up the other side of the street. An old woman stood on her stoop waving an old cigarette, unlit, and complaining about her neighbors to her neighbors. All of this was seen by the CCTV cameras above them.
Ianto was always acutely aware of them. Even when they were silent, he could hear the whirring of their motors as they tracked him. Several people in his building complained about being monitored all the time, but he couldn't care less. This was all very normal and acceptable to him.
Eventually, he came upon the wrot iron gates in front of his building. Mrs. Feldman was standing there with her cat on her arm. She barely spoke the language, but knew enough to harangue the tenants when they were late with the rent. He smiled at her, chucked the cat under its chin, and passed her by. She would stand there like a sentinel for another hour. He had no idea why, she was crazy that way.
His flat was on the first floor, just inside the door. It looked out on the streets. The bay window was right under the security light, which seriously cut the price on his lease. Where others would find it unbearable and distracting, he had placed a bed in the living room. During the previous summer, flooding had knocked the power out, and he had been near panic without it.
That had been a bad two days.
When he walked in to the flat, he checked it over, stun-gun at the ready. After sweeping all five of the rooms, which included the bathroom, he felt safe enough to close the front door and lock it tight. Four dead bolts was over kill, Martha had told him, but nothing less than a cross bar had made him feel secure. If his flat ever caught fire, he was prepared to use the front window.
As he turned on the television, he raised the volume until it filled the entire flat. Leaving at least one light burning in each of the rooms, he took off his jacket and walked in to the kitchen. It was the one room in the entire place that was more than just a sterile show room piece. Martha said it was his heart, his personality was free to run amok in there. He wasn't quite sure he agreed.
Shelves were loaded with a variety of sweets. Teas and Coffees took up an entire cupboard. Ianto knew that in his previous life, as he referred to his pre-amnesia days, he must have had one hell of a pallet. There were entire weekends devoted to experimenting with different blends. It wasn't an obsession, per sey, but he was searching for a particular flavor he couldn't quite figure out.
One day, he would find it, and then, he knew, his past would come rushing back. Until then, he would continue to search.
Putting the kettle on to boil, he took out an American blend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Friday has become a panic moment for him. All day, he could feel the impending weekend growing closer. By the time lunch rolled around, Ianto has switched from Earl Gray to Herbal Therapy padded with a mild sedative. It barely helped, but anything more and he risked his job.
Nurse Rhys-Atwood has taken to watching him for Dr. Silani. He knows it, she knows it, everyone knows it, but no one said a thing. She sat at her desk in the far corner of the room, checking the medical scripts for abuse and over use charges. He knows every time she clicked the mouse, she has cast another appraising look over him.
She'll never notice a thing.
Unless, of course, she sipped his tea when he's in the restroom. For a moment, the thought of that caused Ianto's pulse to jump. That was quickly over by the second key stroke on the newest patient vouchers. He has the fastest typing speed in the office, proved by many contests. There was someone on the third floor, medical oversight committee offices, who people claimed is the best. He's not seen it.
Ianto looked down at the next voucher and hmmed to himself. Immigrant names were the hardest for any in their office to deal with, often times written in their native hand. He seemed to have a knack with 'alien' writing, and most were left to him. "Obid Obtahi, not so unusual." Still, he filled in the patient information for the hospital's intranet.
Reaching for his mug, he happened to glance up. She was openly watching him. With a tight smile for her, he raised it in salute then took a long sip. After he had swallowed, he set it down. "Ms. Rhys-Atwood, would you care for a cup?"
"No." Picking up her pen, she wrote something on a clipboard next to her keyboard.
He made a sound of amused appreciation, then turned back to his work. A few minutes later, he had completely transferred all ten pages of private information on Obid to the intranet. Ianto was standing up to take that file and the other six he had finished back to the records room when the other four people who worked in the office came back.
Watching them coming up the short hall to their office, a warm sensation filled him. He didn't realize how long he stood there until he felt the nurse's hand on his wrist. Jumping back, he glanced about him wide eyed. "What happened?"
Hands up, trying to placate him, the nurse spoke in a low voice. "It's okay, Ianto, it was only for a few seconds, not even a full minute. You're okay."
Despite her words, Ianto knew well and good this was a step back. This kind of behavior wasn't supposed to be happening any more.
Taking out her penlight, she took him by the arm. "Sit down, Ianto, let me check you over." Gently, yet forcefully, she handled him until he was back in his chair. Raising his chin, she waved the light in his eyes then away to check his response. Feeling his pulse at the neck, she counted the beats on her watch. "You're a little excited, but nothing to indicate a relapse. Did you remember something, know what set it off?"
Ianto started to shake his head, but then he frowned. "Four people in a dark hall. I saw four people in a dark hall, nothing about them, just four people." Wincing as a twinge started at the front of his brain, he turned away from the lights. "I was expecting them to come back. Don't ask why or what for, I don't recall. It was just a momentary feeling of anticipation."
"All right." Picking up Ianto's tea, she handed it to him. "Drink some more of this, it will help you calm down." After making sure he swallowed some, she glanced over at the other four people. "Get back to work. There's a lot of files to be finished before five and Mr. Jones won't be here to help you."
A feeling of dread sank in the pit of his stomach. Hesitantly, he looked up to her face and knew instantly where he would be the rest of the day. With a sigh, he reached over and picked up the phone. He hit the auto dial and placed the handset to his ear. "Trauma Room Three, please."
"Please hold."
It rang once before a familiar voice answered. "Trauma."
"Yes, can I speak with Martha Jones, please?" He waited while the phone was passed to her. When he heard the familiar inhalation, he grinned. "Martha, I'm going up to Four. Can you pick me up something on your break?"
"Ianto." Her voice was heavy with an emotion he could quite decipher. She sounded almost like she was disappointed, but also a little afraid.
"Anything but the Korean Market, there's something in the tanks that likes me a little too much." He tried for levity, but his tone came out flat. Ianto hated the fourth floor more than she did. "I'll be out after the examination, but if they decide to hold me over, you'll be the first to know."
"You better not be doing this to try and get out of dinner with my mother, Ianny." Over the receiver, the sounds of her shushing up Dr. Morah were barely audible. "Ianto, I will pick you up when my shift ends and we will be heading to my mother's for the weekend."
"Mar..." he trailed off as she had hung up. Putting the handset back in the cradle, he stood up. Tugging on his suit jacket, he paused to enjoy the craftsmanship. It was the one thing they had allowed him to do while recovering that he found even remotely useful. When he felt strong enough, he gestured for Nurse Rhys-Atwood to lead the way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ianto sat absolutely still in the far left corner of the black cab. Hands in his lap, he faced forward and kept a tight rein over himself. He would not twitch with each bump, he would not watch the sidewalks longingly. It was highly impractical to feel this way, and he was considerably... Ianto's thoughts trailed off as something heavy was placed in to his lap. Glancing down, he found a brightly colored bundle.
Grabbing his arm, Martha leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Open it already. It's not lethal, but at least it's legal."
Nodding, Ianto grabbed it carefully and turned it over. If it was something dangerous, he wasn't taking any chances. Quickly and efficiently, he slid his fingers through the thin paper and pulled out the black object. Turning it over, he found himself taking to its grip and heft quite easily. He held the end of it up and squeezed the trigger. A flash of blue energy arched over the electrodes.
Martha smiled as he seemed to be enthralled by the device. "I found it in a shop window while on break. Elsie rang me before I left for lunch, she told me about what happened." Her hand slid down his arm to grip and squeeze his own reassuringly. "It's been months, Ianto. Whoever did this to you, they're not coming back."
Ianto had to swallow three times before he felt himself ready to speak. "I understand." Squeezing the trigger again, he closed his eyes against the cackling sound it made. After he released the trigger, he tried to put it away in the inner lining of his jacket. Ianto frowned when it failed to find purchase.
Releasing his arm so she could check inside his jacket, Martha examined the contents. "What are you searching for? The pocket is right here." She tugged on the lip of fabric.
"I...I'm not certain." Ianto blanked his expression. Sliding the tazer in to his inner pocket, he resettled the jacket to fit more comfortably. He had to readjust it twice as the weight felt in the wrong place.
For the rest of the ride, they sat in silence. Their hands remained clasped. That's why, when the black cab pulled up to the curb in front of a brick residential, Martha knew Ianto was far from the calm serene his face tried to express.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A yank? Really, Martha."
Backing out of the kitchen door, Martha nearly dropped the platter of ham she had been carrying. Catching her balance, she raised her head slowly to face the source of scorn. "Dad." She tried to smile, gave it a good effort, but the stern expression on his face made it impossible. "What are you doing here?"
For a moment, he glanced down at the plate in front of him. Picking up the napkin on top, he unfolded it, then refolded it properly. When he was through, he glanced up. "Are you trying to embarrass this family?"
Setting the platter down on the table, she straightened her posture. "I don't see how this any of your business."
"It's my family." Catching movement at the far entrance to the dining room, her father sighed. "You are my daughter. I raised you better than this."
"Better than what?" Scoffing in disgust, Martha started to move around the table to confront her father. She was a few feet from him when a hand gently gripped her arm. "He's from America, dad, not some criminal!"
"He's not good enough for you!" Rising from his seat, he stared her down. Casting a quick look over Martha's shoulder, his jaw clenched. "You are better than this, Martha, and I don't want to see you throw your life away."
Martha gasped in shock. She couldn't believe this, he was actually insinuating Ianto was going to purposefully ruin her life. Shaking her head, she backed away. "I'm not doing this. This conversation, it's over, never happened. Go home!" Turning around, she pushed passed her mother.
Taking a calming breath, Francine walked over to the chair across from her ex-husband. They stared at each other for a moment, before she snorted. "It's more serious than I thought."
Shaking his head, Clive grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. "Next time, leave me out of your machinations."
"Remember, Tuesday is Leo's birthday," she called as he headed out the back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner had been an unusually quiet affair. Martha refused to look at her mother, her mother refused to look up from her plate, Tish kept watching Ianto intently, and Ianto had been too nervous to do anything more than eat slowly and properly. By the time he had finished his one piece of ham, his jaw hurt from chewing twenty times per bite and he was in no mood for the sticky dessert.
Standing up with his plate, he automatically moved to grab the women's as well. He didn't notice the change in atmosphere, just stacked the dinner plates. Picking them up, he carried the dirty stack in to the kitchen.
Francine, after watching Ianto go in stunned silence, turned her attention to Martha. "Did you train him, or does this come standard?"
"Honestly, I have..." She trailed off as Ianto appeared at the doorway with a carafe of coffee. "Ianto." Martha stood up, arms out to intercept Ianto and the coffee. "What are you doing?"
"Hmm?" He looked up from the carafe to Martha in question. It took a couple switches between the two before he realized what she was talking about. "Am I doing something wrong?" Ianto gave Francine a chagrined smile. "I apologize if I've offended you, I'm not quite certain what guest-hosting rules apply. There are many, but the manuals on social etiquette I've read were quite vague regarding this situation."
Francine started to say something, but stopped by placing a hand on her cheek. Shaking her head, she tried for amused. "It's fine, really, but I think I'm supposed to be doing that."
"Ah. Well." He stared at the carafe as if it were the first time he had seen it. Setting it down gently, he folded his hands behind his back. "Is there something I can do?"
Tugging on his arm, Martha urged him down in to his seat. "Ianto, you're a guest here. It is the hostess' duty to clear dishes and see to the guest's comfort." When he had taken a seat, she returned to her own. She cast a quick glance over to her mother before smiling at Ianto.
Taking the hint, Francine cleared her throat. "Tish." She had to snap her fingers to draw the girl out of her dreamy gaze at Ianto. "How is your work with Minister Saxon? They say he is quite likely to become the next Prime Minister."
Tish jumped when Martha kicked her under the table. After a quick glare sent her way, Tish smiled at their mother. "Yes, I believe it's a very real possibility. Everyone seems to love him the instant he's in the room. He's the most magnetic man I've ever met." As she spoke, her gaze drifted back to Ianto. "Absolutely brilliant. I've never met anyone quite like him. I'd certainly love to show him a thing or two."
"Right." Standing up from the table, Ianto forced the panicked expression from his face. He bowed his head to Francine. "Thank you for the lovely hospitality, Mrs. Jones. It's been a long day, I do believe I will turn in now." Ianto turned and fled the dinning room before any of the women had a chance to protest.
Martha stared at her sister. Ianto had always been uncomfortable around her, but now she knew it wasn't just his painfully shy way. When Tish met her gaze, she sent her a look that promised they would have words. "Mum, I think I will go up and see to Ianto."
"Yes, dear, I do believe that would be best." Francine couldn't quite believe it. If this was indications for the rest of the weekend, she was heading to the coast until Tuesday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Martha found him in Leo's room. His bag was packed with all but the suit laid out for the next day. Stopping in the doorway, she leaned against it for support. "Ianto, I'm sorry."
"There's nothing you should apologize for." Scrubbing a brush down the length of his trousers, Ianto slipped the extra lent from them. When he was certain they were pristine, he laid them over a chair to ensure the crease remained. "I've made a perfect fool of myself, I do not believe you can help with that."
"You're not." She wanted to reach out for him, but knew from experience that he wouldn't welcome it. When he was emotionally upset, he refused contact of any kind. Sometimes, she wished she could get her hands on the bastards that had worked him over before she found him. "Please, don't go."
"I'm not leaving, merely preparing to rest for the night." Unbuttoning the cuffs of his suit, he turned to face her. There was a moment of silence before he released them and crossed the room to her. Taking her hand in his own, he smiled at her. "It will take some time, but I believe it will get better. Believe me."
"I want to, it's a little weird, that's all." Slipping her arms around his waist, she tugged him in to a hug. While he ran his fingers up her spine, she giggled. "Stop that."
"But you enjoy this so very much." Kissing the skin under her ear, Ianto spread his fingers over the small of her back. He softly guided her in to the room, then began to sway slowly. As she molded to his body, he began to hum.
"What are we doing?" Her words came out in a half daze. She hadn't counted on something like this, and found herself enjoying it too much to really question.
"I do believe this is called dancing." Ianto laid his head on her shoulder, exhaling slowly over her skin. "Of course, I could be mistaken, since I can't recall ever having done this before." He picked up the pace with his humming before pulling back. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he grabbed her hand with the other. "Now, we dip."
Martha cackled as she felt herself lean back in a controlled fall. Rounding up back against him, she wrapped her free arm around his neck. It took several tries before she had her breath. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"No where, some where. I'm not sure, it just felt like the right thing to do." Back to spinning in a slow circle, he pulled her hand to his lips. He placed several slow kisses over her palm. "Will you dance with me again, Martha Jones?"
She didn't hesitate before she was nodding again. Cupping his cheek, she guided his face to hers. "Any time, Ianto Jones." Raising her chin, she tilted her head slightly. Breath caught in her throat, she crossed the short distance and pressed her lips to his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Staring at the final resting place of Suzie Costello, Jack wondered how it had become so easy for him. Gwen had almost given herself willingly to let Suzie live if it meant she didn't have to lose another colleague. But Jack had put a stop to that fast. He had already grieved for Suzie, Gwen was alive and he intended to keep her that way. Gwen was upset, but she would get over it.
She forgave him for Toshiko, after all.
Sliding the extra lock in to the bolt hole, he turned and let it click in to place. Walking back across the bridge, he felt each footstep like a lead weight on his back. There were too many people he had known over the years entombed here. Torchwood was supposed to be about investigating the unknown and conquering it, not dying for stupid mistakes.
He hit the switch to turn the bridge until it was crossways once more. Hands in his pockets, he walked up the stairs and back in to the hub. Jack half expected to be greeted by the playful banter of his team. Instead, the loud roar of some street band screamed at him over the system's speakers. With a grit of his teeth, he bypassed Levi, and headed up the stairs to his office.
Two weeks till Christmas, an arbitrary holiday, but he knew the team were expecting to be let off. For the lackluster way they had performed over the past twenty-four hours, he was considering canceling the damned holiday. Sure, it would be stereotypical of the old guy boss, but damn it, he wasn't in the mood for it. Their slow to response and failure to uptake on the obvious had nearly cost them Gwen.
Tosh had let her emotions...
He closed his eyes and faced away from his desk. Seeing the wall, he leaned back against it. It had been so close this time, another minute and Gwen would have been gone. He had felt her start to slip out of his grip, just like Tosh. That had been enough to drive him on, to threaten Levi in to doing something drastic. Thankfully, it had been enough, and Gwen was alive.
Sliding down the wall, Jack could still see Tosh as the teleporter had taken her away. The horror of what had happened hadn't hit the team until he explained. None of them had spoken to him for a month afterwards. Closing his eyes, he tried to drown out the images his own mind created. So many dead, so much lost, he hadn't the time to grieve.
Letting it all slip from his mind, Jack dropped his head in to his hands. There was nothing he could do, it had happened, and he couldn't undo it. He was debating whether to send the team home when the rift alarm sounded.
Jack gave a half sob.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Martha awoke warm. Stretching out, she luxuriated in the feeling. The bed was soft, the blankets heavy enough to ward off the chill in the air. Snuggling down deeper in to them, she tried to go back to sleep. She had been dreaming, but the remnants eluded her grasp. After a time, unable to find her comfortable spot again, she stretched out and slid from under the blankets.
She almost jumped back in to the bed, but knew it was too late. The source of the chill became obvious as a lock of hair blew across her face. Turning, she found the window partially open and the sun shining through it. On the stand, held in place by her old alarm clock, a note simply said 'good morning'. Picking it up, she closed the window and locked it.
Yawning, she padded barefoot to the loo. After she had used the facilities and washed the sleep from her face, she headed down the stairs. The living room was empty, but she could make out the sounds of someone moving in the kitchen. Scratching at her stomach, she walked in to the dining room.
Already at the table, her mother sat sipping a mug of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. Hearing Martha, Francine looked over the top and smiled at her. Before she could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open.
Decked out in his suit and a pink apron, complete with frilly ruffles, Ianto carried in a carafe with a mug and saucer. "Morning, Martha. Did you sleep well?" He set the mug down at the seat she had been in the night before and filled it.
Distracted, Martha could only nod as she took her seat. The sight was way beyond absurd. "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome." Ianto refilled Francine's mug before wandering back in to the kitchen.
The moment the door closed behind him, both women burst in to hysterical giggles.
Dropping the paper, Francine hit the table several times before she could compose herself to speak. "I've held that in for almost an hour. Your face pushed me over." Wiping her eyes, she sat back giggling. "Oh, damn this, damn this."
Martha could only shake her head. It was too much, really. She was almost sobered up when Ianto came back in with a tray full of platters. The psychotic grin he had set her off again until she fell out of her chair.
Confused, Ianto frowned. Setting the tray on the table, he put the platters in the center for everyone to help themselves to it.
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or Doctor Who.
Characters: Ianto, Martha, Jack, 10th Doctor, Gwen, Tosh, Owen, Francine, and Tish.
Words: 15350
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Pairing: Ianto/Martha - past Ianto/Lisa, Ianto/Jack.
Rating: Adult
Warnings: Language, Violence
Summary: Ianto is retconned after the events of Cyberwoman. Taken in by Martha, he eventually meets someone who can reveal his past.
Author's Note: Ianto suffers from Foreign Accent Syndrome in this story.
Theme Music: Toy Soldiers - Martika
______________________________________
In the distance, a can skid across the paving stones.
Spinning around, Ianto reached for the gun that was no longer there. Eyes wide, his chest heaved as he searched the alleyway. He jumped when a shadow crossed the corner of his eye. "Who's there?"
Horns blared as a car a few blocks over hit its breaks. Shouting echoed down the stone streets.
Ianto wiped his nose and mouth as he leaned back against the wall behind him. The normally reassuring feeling of the bricks provided little comfort. He was about to move on when the sound of boots hitting the pavement became audible. Sliding along the wall in the opposite direction, he searched about for a weapon.
There was nothing in his field of sight that could provide a defense. Part of the reason he had chosen the apartment on this alley had been the clear line of sight directly to the street. No rubbish bins or doorways aside from his own were there to provide camouflage. Now, he was regretting that decision.
A mist of breath was the first visible sign of his pursuer. Rounding the corner in to the alleyway, black military boots slapped against the stones. Hard blue eyes met Ianto's as he came near.
Swallowing in some what relief, Ianto closed his eyes. "Sir. You almost gave me a heart attack." When he opened them again, he found Jack almost upon him. Instinctively, he flattened himself against the wall. "Sir?"
The next instant, Jack's fist was flying.
Ianto barely had time to hunch over in to the attack before it was rocketed in to his gut. Eyes wide and watering, he gasped for breath. The next blow came from above. He went down like a lead weight at Jack's feet. He tried to curl up in anticipation of a kick, but was surprised to be stomped instead.
Crying out, Ianto curled his arms around his sore midsection as Jack's boot came down upon him again. When the sharp edge of Jack's heel clipped his side, a wash of bile flooded his throat. This time a kick came, sending him rolling in to the brick wall.
Ianto screamed when he felt more than one of his ribs snap. It suddenly became extremely difficult to breathe. His heart pounding drowned out all other noise, even the sound of his own moans of pain. When the next blow didn't come, Ianto uncurled enough to peer about. Through watery eyes, he found Jack kneeling a little ways off.
Jack was watching him, eyes blood shot and cheeks wet.
He wanted to ask the older man why, to beg for his life. But the pain in his chest caused him to gasp and his throat to constrict. As Jack reached in to his pocket, he shook his head feebly from side to side. Instead of the weapon he had thought, Jack pulled out a small bottle.
Scooting closer, Jack reached out and grabbed Ianto by the chin. Since the other man was in no position to fight back, he easily forced him to open his mouth. Jack uncapped the bottle and emptied the contents in to Ianto's mouth. He immediately forced the younger man's mouth closed and began to rub his throat.
Ianto coughed, trying to keep from swallowing the vile tasting liquid. He tried to shake his head from side to side, but Jack's hold was too strong. In the end, he ended up swallowing most of it, screaming through clenched teeth as it burned on the way down.
When he was relatively certain Ianto had swallowed it, Jack traced his fingers over Ianto's face. The tips lingered on the man's lips before he released him. Standing up, he clenched his jaw. With a sudden inhalation, he kicked Ianto across the face. He winced as the man's head collided against the brick wall with a wet thud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stumbling in to the hub as the doors retracted, Jack didn't make it to a bin before puking up the contents of his stomach. Falling over the catwalk, he landed on the cement floor next to his vomit. Instead of getting up, he laid there shaking.
Letting his head fall back, Jack closed his eyes against the bright lights of the hub. He could hear people talking, but couldn't make out the words over his own sobbing. When hands tried to check him for injuries, he shoved them away and curled on his side. He didn't want their help and knew he didn't deserve it.
Hands with unheeded strength rolled him on to his back. A slap across his face forced him to open his eyes. When he saw it was only Gwen, he gave a harsh sob and tried to turn away. Unfortunately, she had a burr up her ass and wasn't going to let him get away with self pity.
"Jack! What happened? Are you drunk?" She took an experimental sniff of his breath, frowning when the it was strong enough to singe her nostrils. With a scoff of disgust, she slapped him on the shoulder. "You are, you prat!"
Shoving her away, Jack tried to crawl away from her. "Leave me alone!"
"You know, I probably should. Would serve you well, Owen's right about that." Gwen forced her hands past Jack's curled up form so she could get a grip on his coat. It would take quite a bit of effort, but she could get him back up to the walkway. Standing up, she stood over his head and tried to drag him up the embankment.
To stop her, Jack jerked on his coat until it slipped from her fingers. This had the effect of slamming it against the cement under him, causing the contents of his pockets to fly out. The small bottle he had forced Ianto to drink from was one of these. Upon seeing it, Jack tried to snatch it back, but it rolled passed his grip.
Eyes landing upon Jack's distraction, Gwen frowned. Since she was already on her feet, it was only a small matter of crossing the short distance to the bottle. Picking it up, she sniffed at the open stopper with a frown. It stank of alcohol, but also of something else, something familiar. The shriek of the pterodactyl above seemed to draw it from her memory. "Retcon, Jack? Where have you been? Who did you use this on?"
"Give me that!" He made a grab for the bottle, but with his double vision, he snatched for the wrong one. "It's none of your business, now give it back to me!"
"We've been through hell this past day because of secrets, don't start the cycle again!" Holding the bottle at him in accusation, she slapped his hands away. "Now, where were you and who did you use this on?"
Laying back, Jack shook his head. "Doesn't matter, he's not coming back." Dragging his hand over his face, Jack started to chuckle. He knew it was hysteria coming on, but couldn't bring himself to care.
"He? He who?" Gwen was about to throttle him when she saw his knuckles. They were healing up, but a couple had most certainly been busted open. Then it clicked. "Oh god, Jack, please. Please, Jack, tell me you didn't."
"Not," he shook his head, emitting a high pitched, body aching laugh, "coming back."
Gwen dropped the bottle as she placed a hand over mouth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Watching as her sister giggled and twisted her hair, Martha felt the urge to get violently ill. Or may be it was just violent. They had been at the civic center for almost an hour as Tish searched for an occupation. With her sister's inability to stick with a chosen path, it was almost a lost cause. Still, with five months till graduation, Martha was going to make sure she chose one.
"Come on, I want to go." Stomping her foot like a child, Margaret Smith swayed from side to side. Her act was partially to get Martha's attention, and partially because she really felt like doing it. "This is driving me nutters!"
"Go, then. You don't have to stay, but I'm making sure Tish picks at least one." Speaking of which, it was beyond time to get her sister moving again. Martha was about to slap her sister upside her head when the man Tish was talking to jerked and looked away. Curious, she followed his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as everyone around her went silent.
Coming their way, all smiles and hand shakes, Minister Saxon was busy making sure he had a chance in the next general election.
"Would you look at that, acts like a rock star, he does." Tugging gently on Martha's ear, Margaret held her friend's shoulder steady. They were both on the verge of hysterical laughter over the crowd's reaction. "If the wee girls start throwing their underwear, I swear I'll forsake my oath and kill them all."
"Hush! You'll get us in trouble." Not that Martha would have minded. It was a welcome relief to the endless flirting Tish seemed to be engaged in. Suddenly, she pulled Margaret back with her. "Quick, he's coming this way. I don't want to be stomped on by stampeding chavettes."
"Oh lord god almighty, you'd have to bring them in to this." Rolling her eyes, Margaret glanced about the business stalls for a quick exit. When she found one, she pulled at Martha's jacket. "Come along, I found a way out of here."
"Hold on, I want to get Tish." Martha, having lost her sister in the melee, stood on the tips of her toes to look about. When she couldn't make out hide nor hair of her, she reached in to her jacket and pulled out her cell phone.
Margaret sighed, but dutifully waited with her friend.
The phone rang three times before Tish picked up. Relief and exasperation caused Martha to huff in to the line. "Where are you? These twits are giving me a headache and I want to get out of here."
"Go ahead, I'm busy." Tish's voice came out in a purr over the line. A second later, she was chuckling in a deep voice.
Pulling the phone away from her ear, Martha looked at it in disgust. "She's found another man!"
"Not just any man, the man himself." Margaret pointed through an opening in the crowd.
It took a little bending, but Martha could finally make out her sister. On Tish's arm was none other than Minister Saxon. "That does it, I'm gone." Slamming her phone shut, she started to walk away. It took her several steps to realize she had no idea where they were going.
Smirking, Margaret took Martha by the hand. "Come on, love, I'll lead you to safety."
Martha made no remark to this. She was just grateful to be out of there. Several times they had to swerve to avoid running in to people rushing to meet the Minister. By the time they had found the exit, she was near ready to tear her own hair out. "Never again! Never! I'll rip my own eyebrows off and eat dirt before I go to one these monsters again."
It was too amusing, Margaret couldn't leave it alone. "Tut, tut, Martha, never say never. There's another one in five months..."
That had been a mistake. Slugging her friend in the arm, Martha stomped her way in out through the side doors. Once on the sidewalk, she picked up her pace and left her bitching friend behind her. Coming out the side alley to a main street, she glanced at the clock on the corner. Her shift started in just under half an hour and she was too far away to walk.
Growling under her breath, she looked up and down the street for a cab. Spotting one, she started across the street for it when, out of no where, a blue sedan shot across her path. Martha had to jump back to avoid being hit. Landing with a cry of pain, she noticed the car had stopped. She was going to raise holy hell when the back driver side door flew open.
The figure in the back seat was cloaked all in black, but the bundle they tossed out was identifiably male. Not waiting for the door to shut, the driver hit the accelerator and the car shot off down the road.
Martha watched it turn the corner and disappear before focusing on the man in front of her. She winced as she crawled to her hands and knees, her left knee giving her trouble. Upon reaching him, she felt for a pulse.
He groaned in pain. Rolling on his side to alleviate it, he opened the one eye that wasn't swollen shut.
"Can you tell me your name." When she had his pulse and breathing, she began to run her hands gently over his body. There were at least four broken ribs she could feel. His left leg was bent at an odd angle and she didn't like the way his pupil kept losing focus.
"'s Ianto." Groaning through his nose, blood and snot started to run down his cheek.
When he tried to close his eye, she patted his cheek. "Hey! Stay with me, Ianto, you have to stay awake."
"Can't." He started to gasp, his chest jerking with the attempts to breathe. "Hurts."
"I know, I know." Martha pushed the hair off his forehead as she cradled him against her. "Come on, Ianto, stay with me. Don't go to sleep, you'll thank me for it later. Keep your eye open. That's it." In the distance, she could hear an ambulance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6 Months Later.
Using the sword shaped letter opener, Ianto slid it along the lip of an envelope. The post had arrived half a hour earlier, but he had waited until the office was cleared lunch before opening it. The brown envelope was nothing much to look at except for two official stamps saying where it had come from. Before he could remove the folded stationary inside, however, a hand landed on his shoulder.
Ianto flinched violently, knocking the person away from him. When he saw who it was, he smiled apologetically to her. "Sorry, Doctor Jones. I didn't hear you come in."
"It's quite all right, Ianto." Pushing herself up from the floor, Martha dusted off her bottom and checked for injuries. Finding nothing but her pride hurt, she smiled. "I guess I should have learned not to do that by now."
"Thank you." Once he had set down the papers on his desk and the files in an open cabinet drawer, he reached down to pick up the envelope.
Martha beat him to it. After quickly examining the front of the letter, she looked up at Ianto. "I see now. Do you want to talk about it?" She almost reluctantly gave him back the letter.
"Not as such. I mean, I only just opened it." He could see the burning desire in her eyes. The way she bit her lower lip as he pulled out the papers made him sigh. "All right." Ianto unfolded the papers and quickly scanned them. When he was finished, he closed his eyes and held them out to her.
Unable to contain her excitement, Martha quickly flipped them over and began to read them. She had to go over the first page three times before it made enough sense. "I don't get it. There must be a mistake."
"No mistake. I have officially been declared dead." Taking back the papers, he roughly stuffed them back in to the envelope. "Six months!" He spun his chair back around to face his desk and scooted in. He dropped the envelope in the bottom drawer before slamming it shut.
Martha looked down. She took a moment to compose herself after the disappointment. If she was feeling this way, she could only imagine how Ianto was. This time, she cleared her throat before she placed a hand upon his shoulder. "It's not fair."
"Since when is life fair? I don't even know who I am and some fucking peon at the Embassy has decided I never will either!" Face set, he drew up the papers for the next billing cycle on his computer. While he quietly, yet quickly, clicked his way through the Hospital's financial records, he ignored the fact Martha hadn't let him go.
After a few minutes of silence, Martha squeezed his shoulder. "I'm sorry you won't be allowed to go home."
He waved her off without looking away from his work. "Who cares, it's only America. I've probably seen it all any ways." When she squeezed his shoulder again, he had to bite his lip from choking up. The moment he was certain he wouldn't break down, he patted her hand. "Thank you, Martha."
"That's right. Besides, this is London, everyone wants to come here." Caught up in her own emotions, she bent down and wrapped her arms around Ianto's neck. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she blew across his ear. "My mother wants you to come up for dinner this weekend. You've put her off three times, Ianny, I'm not telling her no again."
He shuddered at the hated name. "Remind me to kill Dr. Morah for that." Giving her a cross look from the corner of his eye, he typed out the patient data from the file on his left. "I will only come if your sister is not there."
"She took a job in Minister Saxon's office working for his campaign last week. She no longer has weekends." Chuckling, she stood up and ruffled his hair. While he took the time to put it back in place, she placed a kiss on his forehead. "Don't worry, Ianto. You'll see that you like it here better than you would have in the States."
Ianto nodded.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The London Eye was visible from wherever he went it seemed. No matter how far he tried to go, there it was always watching over him. He couldn't explain why, but something about the name itself lent him a feeling of security. As it lit up for the night, an action to dazzle the world and London, he felt it lose its hold over him.
His sigh escaped him in a great plume as the temperature dropped. Winter was still over a month away, but already the cold was rolling in off the Thames. It promised to be a bitter winter this year, not that he would remember. Just, that a few of the people in the office were complaining about their utilities already being higher than last year.
What he knew consisted of one month of recovering in Royal Hope Hospital, and five months of working there. His entire life revolved around the hospital, almost everyone he knew worked there. There were times he felt that there had been more once, but those were few and farther between. Now, it didn't really matter, he guessed.
If he hadn't the fortune to have met Martha, he would most likely have ended on the streets. She had gotten him the job, introduced him to her friends and family. He should have felt different than the way he did, not longing for things he couldn't have. The letter in his jacket pocket only confirmed the fact they weren't meant for him.
Still, he wondered what it would have been like to go back home.
Heaving another sigh, Ianto followed the well lit streets. His flat was only a few blocks from the hospital, but when he wasn't feeling himself, he would visit the Eye. Something about standing over the city and looking down upon it made him feel almost whole.
Couples passed him by, arm in arm and smiling. A mother and her daughter danced on the corner waiting for the light. Two little boys chased a dog up the other side of the street. An old woman stood on her stoop waving an old cigarette, unlit, and complaining about her neighbors to her neighbors. All of this was seen by the CCTV cameras above them.
Ianto was always acutely aware of them. Even when they were silent, he could hear the whirring of their motors as they tracked him. Several people in his building complained about being monitored all the time, but he couldn't care less. This was all very normal and acceptable to him.
Eventually, he came upon the wrot iron gates in front of his building. Mrs. Feldman was standing there with her cat on her arm. She barely spoke the language, but knew enough to harangue the tenants when they were late with the rent. He smiled at her, chucked the cat under its chin, and passed her by. She would stand there like a sentinel for another hour. He had no idea why, she was crazy that way.
His flat was on the first floor, just inside the door. It looked out on the streets. The bay window was right under the security light, which seriously cut the price on his lease. Where others would find it unbearable and distracting, he had placed a bed in the living room. During the previous summer, flooding had knocked the power out, and he had been near panic without it.
That had been a bad two days.
When he walked in to the flat, he checked it over, stun-gun at the ready. After sweeping all five of the rooms, which included the bathroom, he felt safe enough to close the front door and lock it tight. Four dead bolts was over kill, Martha had told him, but nothing less than a cross bar had made him feel secure. If his flat ever caught fire, he was prepared to use the front window.
As he turned on the television, he raised the volume until it filled the entire flat. Leaving at least one light burning in each of the rooms, he took off his jacket and walked in to the kitchen. It was the one room in the entire place that was more than just a sterile show room piece. Martha said it was his heart, his personality was free to run amok in there. He wasn't quite sure he agreed.
Shelves were loaded with a variety of sweets. Teas and Coffees took up an entire cupboard. Ianto knew that in his previous life, as he referred to his pre-amnesia days, he must have had one hell of a pallet. There were entire weekends devoted to experimenting with different blends. It wasn't an obsession, per sey, but he was searching for a particular flavor he couldn't quite figure out.
One day, he would find it, and then, he knew, his past would come rushing back. Until then, he would continue to search.
Putting the kettle on to boil, he took out an American blend.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Friday has become a panic moment for him. All day, he could feel the impending weekend growing closer. By the time lunch rolled around, Ianto has switched from Earl Gray to Herbal Therapy padded with a mild sedative. It barely helped, but anything more and he risked his job.
Nurse Rhys-Atwood has taken to watching him for Dr. Silani. He knows it, she knows it, everyone knows it, but no one said a thing. She sat at her desk in the far corner of the room, checking the medical scripts for abuse and over use charges. He knows every time she clicked the mouse, she has cast another appraising look over him.
She'll never notice a thing.
Unless, of course, she sipped his tea when he's in the restroom. For a moment, the thought of that caused Ianto's pulse to jump. That was quickly over by the second key stroke on the newest patient vouchers. He has the fastest typing speed in the office, proved by many contests. There was someone on the third floor, medical oversight committee offices, who people claimed is the best. He's not seen it.
Ianto looked down at the next voucher and hmmed to himself. Immigrant names were the hardest for any in their office to deal with, often times written in their native hand. He seemed to have a knack with 'alien' writing, and most were left to him. "Obid Obtahi, not so unusual." Still, he filled in the patient information for the hospital's intranet.
Reaching for his mug, he happened to glance up. She was openly watching him. With a tight smile for her, he raised it in salute then took a long sip. After he had swallowed, he set it down. "Ms. Rhys-Atwood, would you care for a cup?"
"No." Picking up her pen, she wrote something on a clipboard next to her keyboard.
He made a sound of amused appreciation, then turned back to his work. A few minutes later, he had completely transferred all ten pages of private information on Obid to the intranet. Ianto was standing up to take that file and the other six he had finished back to the records room when the other four people who worked in the office came back.
Watching them coming up the short hall to their office, a warm sensation filled him. He didn't realize how long he stood there until he felt the nurse's hand on his wrist. Jumping back, he glanced about him wide eyed. "What happened?"
Hands up, trying to placate him, the nurse spoke in a low voice. "It's okay, Ianto, it was only for a few seconds, not even a full minute. You're okay."
Despite her words, Ianto knew well and good this was a step back. This kind of behavior wasn't supposed to be happening any more.
Taking out her penlight, she took him by the arm. "Sit down, Ianto, let me check you over." Gently, yet forcefully, she handled him until he was back in his chair. Raising his chin, she waved the light in his eyes then away to check his response. Feeling his pulse at the neck, she counted the beats on her watch. "You're a little excited, but nothing to indicate a relapse. Did you remember something, know what set it off?"
Ianto started to shake his head, but then he frowned. "Four people in a dark hall. I saw four people in a dark hall, nothing about them, just four people." Wincing as a twinge started at the front of his brain, he turned away from the lights. "I was expecting them to come back. Don't ask why or what for, I don't recall. It was just a momentary feeling of anticipation."
"All right." Picking up Ianto's tea, she handed it to him. "Drink some more of this, it will help you calm down." After making sure he swallowed some, she glanced over at the other four people. "Get back to work. There's a lot of files to be finished before five and Mr. Jones won't be here to help you."
A feeling of dread sank in the pit of his stomach. Hesitantly, he looked up to her face and knew instantly where he would be the rest of the day. With a sigh, he reached over and picked up the phone. He hit the auto dial and placed the handset to his ear. "Trauma Room Three, please."
"Please hold."
It rang once before a familiar voice answered. "Trauma."
"Yes, can I speak with Martha Jones, please?" He waited while the phone was passed to her. When he heard the familiar inhalation, he grinned. "Martha, I'm going up to Four. Can you pick me up something on your break?"
"Ianto." Her voice was heavy with an emotion he could quite decipher. She sounded almost like she was disappointed, but also a little afraid.
"Anything but the Korean Market, there's something in the tanks that likes me a little too much." He tried for levity, but his tone came out flat. Ianto hated the fourth floor more than she did. "I'll be out after the examination, but if they decide to hold me over, you'll be the first to know."
"You better not be doing this to try and get out of dinner with my mother, Ianny." Over the receiver, the sounds of her shushing up Dr. Morah were barely audible. "Ianto, I will pick you up when my shift ends and we will be heading to my mother's for the weekend."
"Mar..." he trailed off as she had hung up. Putting the handset back in the cradle, he stood up. Tugging on his suit jacket, he paused to enjoy the craftsmanship. It was the one thing they had allowed him to do while recovering that he found even remotely useful. When he felt strong enough, he gestured for Nurse Rhys-Atwood to lead the way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ianto sat absolutely still in the far left corner of the black cab. Hands in his lap, he faced forward and kept a tight rein over himself. He would not twitch with each bump, he would not watch the sidewalks longingly. It was highly impractical to feel this way, and he was considerably... Ianto's thoughts trailed off as something heavy was placed in to his lap. Glancing down, he found a brightly colored bundle.
Grabbing his arm, Martha leaned in to whisper in his ear. "Open it already. It's not lethal, but at least it's legal."
Nodding, Ianto grabbed it carefully and turned it over. If it was something dangerous, he wasn't taking any chances. Quickly and efficiently, he slid his fingers through the thin paper and pulled out the black object. Turning it over, he found himself taking to its grip and heft quite easily. He held the end of it up and squeezed the trigger. A flash of blue energy arched over the electrodes.
Martha smiled as he seemed to be enthralled by the device. "I found it in a shop window while on break. Elsie rang me before I left for lunch, she told me about what happened." Her hand slid down his arm to grip and squeeze his own reassuringly. "It's been months, Ianto. Whoever did this to you, they're not coming back."
Ianto had to swallow three times before he felt himself ready to speak. "I understand." Squeezing the trigger again, he closed his eyes against the cackling sound it made. After he released the trigger, he tried to put it away in the inner lining of his jacket. Ianto frowned when it failed to find purchase.
Releasing his arm so she could check inside his jacket, Martha examined the contents. "What are you searching for? The pocket is right here." She tugged on the lip of fabric.
"I...I'm not certain." Ianto blanked his expression. Sliding the tazer in to his inner pocket, he resettled the jacket to fit more comfortably. He had to readjust it twice as the weight felt in the wrong place.
For the rest of the ride, they sat in silence. Their hands remained clasped. That's why, when the black cab pulled up to the curb in front of a brick residential, Martha knew Ianto was far from the calm serene his face tried to express.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A yank? Really, Martha."
Backing out of the kitchen door, Martha nearly dropped the platter of ham she had been carrying. Catching her balance, she raised her head slowly to face the source of scorn. "Dad." She tried to smile, gave it a good effort, but the stern expression on his face made it impossible. "What are you doing here?"
For a moment, he glanced down at the plate in front of him. Picking up the napkin on top, he unfolded it, then refolded it properly. When he was through, he glanced up. "Are you trying to embarrass this family?"
Setting the platter down on the table, she straightened her posture. "I don't see how this any of your business."
"It's my family." Catching movement at the far entrance to the dining room, her father sighed. "You are my daughter. I raised you better than this."
"Better than what?" Scoffing in disgust, Martha started to move around the table to confront her father. She was a few feet from him when a hand gently gripped her arm. "He's from America, dad, not some criminal!"
"He's not good enough for you!" Rising from his seat, he stared her down. Casting a quick look over Martha's shoulder, his jaw clenched. "You are better than this, Martha, and I don't want to see you throw your life away."
Martha gasped in shock. She couldn't believe this, he was actually insinuating Ianto was going to purposefully ruin her life. Shaking her head, she backed away. "I'm not doing this. This conversation, it's over, never happened. Go home!" Turning around, she pushed passed her mother.
Taking a calming breath, Francine walked over to the chair across from her ex-husband. They stared at each other for a moment, before she snorted. "It's more serious than I thought."
Shaking his head, Clive grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair. "Next time, leave me out of your machinations."
"Remember, Tuesday is Leo's birthday," she called as he headed out the back.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner had been an unusually quiet affair. Martha refused to look at her mother, her mother refused to look up from her plate, Tish kept watching Ianto intently, and Ianto had been too nervous to do anything more than eat slowly and properly. By the time he had finished his one piece of ham, his jaw hurt from chewing twenty times per bite and he was in no mood for the sticky dessert.
Standing up with his plate, he automatically moved to grab the women's as well. He didn't notice the change in atmosphere, just stacked the dinner plates. Picking them up, he carried the dirty stack in to the kitchen.
Francine, after watching Ianto go in stunned silence, turned her attention to Martha. "Did you train him, or does this come standard?"
"Honestly, I have..." She trailed off as Ianto appeared at the doorway with a carafe of coffee. "Ianto." Martha stood up, arms out to intercept Ianto and the coffee. "What are you doing?"
"Hmm?" He looked up from the carafe to Martha in question. It took a couple switches between the two before he realized what she was talking about. "Am I doing something wrong?" Ianto gave Francine a chagrined smile. "I apologize if I've offended you, I'm not quite certain what guest-hosting rules apply. There are many, but the manuals on social etiquette I've read were quite vague regarding this situation."
Francine started to say something, but stopped by placing a hand on her cheek. Shaking her head, she tried for amused. "It's fine, really, but I think I'm supposed to be doing that."
"Ah. Well." He stared at the carafe as if it were the first time he had seen it. Setting it down gently, he folded his hands behind his back. "Is there something I can do?"
Tugging on his arm, Martha urged him down in to his seat. "Ianto, you're a guest here. It is the hostess' duty to clear dishes and see to the guest's comfort." When he had taken a seat, she returned to her own. She cast a quick glance over to her mother before smiling at Ianto.
Taking the hint, Francine cleared her throat. "Tish." She had to snap her fingers to draw the girl out of her dreamy gaze at Ianto. "How is your work with Minister Saxon? They say he is quite likely to become the next Prime Minister."
Tish jumped when Martha kicked her under the table. After a quick glare sent her way, Tish smiled at their mother. "Yes, I believe it's a very real possibility. Everyone seems to love him the instant he's in the room. He's the most magnetic man I've ever met." As she spoke, her gaze drifted back to Ianto. "Absolutely brilliant. I've never met anyone quite like him. I'd certainly love to show him a thing or two."
"Right." Standing up from the table, Ianto forced the panicked expression from his face. He bowed his head to Francine. "Thank you for the lovely hospitality, Mrs. Jones. It's been a long day, I do believe I will turn in now." Ianto turned and fled the dinning room before any of the women had a chance to protest.
Martha stared at her sister. Ianto had always been uncomfortable around her, but now she knew it wasn't just his painfully shy way. When Tish met her gaze, she sent her a look that promised they would have words. "Mum, I think I will go up and see to Ianto."
"Yes, dear, I do believe that would be best." Francine couldn't quite believe it. If this was indications for the rest of the weekend, she was heading to the coast until Tuesday.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Martha found him in Leo's room. His bag was packed with all but the suit laid out for the next day. Stopping in the doorway, she leaned against it for support. "Ianto, I'm sorry."
"There's nothing you should apologize for." Scrubbing a brush down the length of his trousers, Ianto slipped the extra lent from them. When he was certain they were pristine, he laid them over a chair to ensure the crease remained. "I've made a perfect fool of myself, I do not believe you can help with that."
"You're not." She wanted to reach out for him, but knew from experience that he wouldn't welcome it. When he was emotionally upset, he refused contact of any kind. Sometimes, she wished she could get her hands on the bastards that had worked him over before she found him. "Please, don't go."
"I'm not leaving, merely preparing to rest for the night." Unbuttoning the cuffs of his suit, he turned to face her. There was a moment of silence before he released them and crossed the room to her. Taking her hand in his own, he smiled at her. "It will take some time, but I believe it will get better. Believe me."
"I want to, it's a little weird, that's all." Slipping her arms around his waist, she tugged him in to a hug. While he ran his fingers up her spine, she giggled. "Stop that."
"But you enjoy this so very much." Kissing the skin under her ear, Ianto spread his fingers over the small of her back. He softly guided her in to the room, then began to sway slowly. As she molded to his body, he began to hum.
"What are we doing?" Her words came out in a half daze. She hadn't counted on something like this, and found herself enjoying it too much to really question.
"I do believe this is called dancing." Ianto laid his head on her shoulder, exhaling slowly over her skin. "Of course, I could be mistaken, since I can't recall ever having done this before." He picked up the pace with his humming before pulling back. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he grabbed her hand with the other. "Now, we dip."
Martha cackled as she felt herself lean back in a controlled fall. Rounding up back against him, she wrapped her free arm around his neck. It took several tries before she had her breath. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"No where, some where. I'm not sure, it just felt like the right thing to do." Back to spinning in a slow circle, he pulled her hand to his lips. He placed several slow kisses over her palm. "Will you dance with me again, Martha Jones?"
She didn't hesitate before she was nodding again. Cupping his cheek, she guided his face to hers. "Any time, Ianto Jones." Raising her chin, she tilted her head slightly. Breath caught in her throat, she crossed the short distance and pressed her lips to his.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Staring at the final resting place of Suzie Costello, Jack wondered how it had become so easy for him. Gwen had almost given herself willingly to let Suzie live if it meant she didn't have to lose another colleague. But Jack had put a stop to that fast. He had already grieved for Suzie, Gwen was alive and he intended to keep her that way. Gwen was upset, but she would get over it.
She forgave him for Toshiko, after all.
Sliding the extra lock in to the bolt hole, he turned and let it click in to place. Walking back across the bridge, he felt each footstep like a lead weight on his back. There were too many people he had known over the years entombed here. Torchwood was supposed to be about investigating the unknown and conquering it, not dying for stupid mistakes.
He hit the switch to turn the bridge until it was crossways once more. Hands in his pockets, he walked up the stairs and back in to the hub. Jack half expected to be greeted by the playful banter of his team. Instead, the loud roar of some street band screamed at him over the system's speakers. With a grit of his teeth, he bypassed Levi, and headed up the stairs to his office.
Two weeks till Christmas, an arbitrary holiday, but he knew the team were expecting to be let off. For the lackluster way they had performed over the past twenty-four hours, he was considering canceling the damned holiday. Sure, it would be stereotypical of the old guy boss, but damn it, he wasn't in the mood for it. Their slow to response and failure to uptake on the obvious had nearly cost them Gwen.
Tosh had let her emotions...
He closed his eyes and faced away from his desk. Seeing the wall, he leaned back against it. It had been so close this time, another minute and Gwen would have been gone. He had felt her start to slip out of his grip, just like Tosh. That had been enough to drive him on, to threaten Levi in to doing something drastic. Thankfully, it had been enough, and Gwen was alive.
Sliding down the wall, Jack could still see Tosh as the teleporter had taken her away. The horror of what had happened hadn't hit the team until he explained. None of them had spoken to him for a month afterwards. Closing his eyes, he tried to drown out the images his own mind created. So many dead, so much lost, he hadn't the time to grieve.
Letting it all slip from his mind, Jack dropped his head in to his hands. There was nothing he could do, it had happened, and he couldn't undo it. He was debating whether to send the team home when the rift alarm sounded.
Jack gave a half sob.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Martha awoke warm. Stretching out, she luxuriated in the feeling. The bed was soft, the blankets heavy enough to ward off the chill in the air. Snuggling down deeper in to them, she tried to go back to sleep. She had been dreaming, but the remnants eluded her grasp. After a time, unable to find her comfortable spot again, she stretched out and slid from under the blankets.
She almost jumped back in to the bed, but knew it was too late. The source of the chill became obvious as a lock of hair blew across her face. Turning, she found the window partially open and the sun shining through it. On the stand, held in place by her old alarm clock, a note simply said 'good morning'. Picking it up, she closed the window and locked it.
Yawning, she padded barefoot to the loo. After she had used the facilities and washed the sleep from her face, she headed down the stairs. The living room was empty, but she could make out the sounds of someone moving in the kitchen. Scratching at her stomach, she walked in to the dining room.
Already at the table, her mother sat sipping a mug of coffee and reading the morning newspaper. Hearing Martha, Francine looked over the top and smiled at her. Before she could say anything, the door to the kitchen swung open.
Decked out in his suit and a pink apron, complete with frilly ruffles, Ianto carried in a carafe with a mug and saucer. "Morning, Martha. Did you sleep well?" He set the mug down at the seat she had been in the night before and filled it.
Distracted, Martha could only nod as she took her seat. The sight was way beyond absurd. "Thank you."
"You're quite welcome." Ianto refilled Francine's mug before wandering back in to the kitchen.
The moment the door closed behind him, both women burst in to hysterical giggles.
Dropping the paper, Francine hit the table several times before she could compose herself to speak. "I've held that in for almost an hour. Your face pushed me over." Wiping her eyes, she sat back giggling. "Oh, damn this, damn this."
Martha could only shake her head. It was too much, really. She was almost sobered up when Ianto came back in with a tray full of platters. The psychotic grin he had set her off again until she fell out of her chair.
Confused, Ianto frowned. Setting the tray on the table, he put the platters in the center for everyone to help themselves to it.