Fic: The Windhovers: The Fledgling (3 of 4), Jack/Ianto
Title: The Fledgling
Series 'Verse: The Windhovers
Chapter: 3 of 4
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1, S2
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien
Summary: "All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them." - Galileo Galilei
A/N: The collecting of beer coasters is called "tegestology." The collecting of empty beer bottles is known as "the morning after, did I really drink all these?"
Previous Chapters:
The Windhovers: The Beginning (complete)
The Fledgling (1 of 4)
The Fledgling (2 of 4)
(Previously in "The Windhovers: The Fledgling"): Resigned and mentally preparing himself for whatever he might see inside, Ianto followed the eager man to the doors of the blue police box.
The Doctor opened the door with a flourish; presumably he took great pride in showing off the TARDIS. Ianto's thoughts regarding the Doctor took a secondary track, however, just flitting alongside awareness, as the calming pressure within his mind turned ... well, excited was the best he could describe it. As much as it was repressing his physical response to the Doctor, Ianto could feel his own nerves coil in knotted anticipation, mirroring the stranger within his mind, while beneath his suit, goosepimples prickled his skin.
Consciously drawing a deep breath, Ianto pressed his palm flat against the blue door.
It was just like the growing one in Jack's office, she was just like the one in Jack's office, only ... more. Ianto stared at his hand until pale skin and veins blurred, no longer seeing but listening as she sang a welcome. It was a beautiful melody reverberating deep within Ianto's bones, haunting and exhilarating as her anthem flew, twisted and dove in pitches and tones he instinctively knew had no earthly origin and no apparent measure of time. Wrapping about him like water from the tropics, baked in the equatorial sun, Ianto felt completely immersed in the song, not that he'd stop it if he could. He couldn't recall the fear, much less revulsion, he'd experienced earlier. In fact, Ianto couldn't remember anything at all as within the melody he vanished, a mere fragment of thought drifting with the melody.
Beautiful.
But it was so much more; even his thoughts couldn't describe the scope of what he was hearing to himself and he certainly wouldn't ever be able to explain it if asked. The music lived. No, Ianto corrected himself, the music simply existed, as it always had when the stars began and as it would when they dimmed.
She had a voice, whereas the one -- immature? young? -- in Jack's office lacked the personality, lacked the spirit though, Ianto could still see the possibilities in comparison. This TARDIS ... she was old, maybe ancient, though whether her age came from a time in the future or the past, Ianto couldn't tell. But he had to smile as the tone shifted to almost ... one of mischief. Playful, perhaps.
"Ianto?"
Consciously blinking as sound disturbed the focus of his mind, Ianto forced himself to shift his attention from the TARDIS to the speaker who wasn't glaring but seemingly intrigued for all he was casually leaning in the blue doorway.
How long had he been standing outside the TARDIS? And more importantly, Ianto wondered just what he may have given away by not following the Doctor inside, to the extent that the Doctor was calling him by his first name?
Focus. He needed to focus before something went horribly wrong.
"Just wait till you see the inside." The Doctor was all boyish grin and if Ianto didn't know better, he'd say the Doctor was as anxious as he awaiting Ianto to set foot inside the TARDIS, but for probably vastly different reasons. He reminded Ianto of the few times he could remember his father and he buying a little trinket for his mother for Christmas. It was never anything grand, he understood now, but Ianto could remember being barely able to contain himself in anticipation of his mother's face when she opened the gift. Her expression had meant everything, did even when she was too confused or lost within herself to fathom why the gift, much less who the giver was. But Ianto had always waited, excited and anxious, seeking approval he supposed.
Kind of made him wonder about what sort of approval the Doctor sought, if the expressions were analogous.
With a sharp nod that Ianto hoped revealed nothing of his thoughts or his wonder at the TARDIS, he stepped closer to the door before waiting for the Doctor to precede him. It was his ship to show off, after all.
Ianto wasn't disappointed in the least.
He'd known, somehow -- maybe he'd read it in a file at Torchwood One -- that the TARDIS had interior dimensions unrelated to the apparent physical shape of the exterior. She was impressive all the same, seemed to almost be preening as he took in the .. bridge? Just one step across the threshold had led Ianto into a place so unlike any he'd seen and he resisted every urge to step back outside and review the dimensions of the police box to reaffirm what he was seeing. He understood the concept to a limited extent, and so while his eyes scanned over every surface and took in everything from the scattered technology (some foreign even to the scrolling data within his mind) to the graceful architecture of the TARDIS, Ianto kept himself still, hands clasped behind his back, absorbing everything he saw to define and understand (and perhaps question) later.
She was grand, he had to give her that. And his acknowledgment seemed to amuse the quiet song still humming in his mind.
The Doctor waited for him just beyond the central column, in the doorway of what appeared to be a hallway leading deeper into the TARDIS and what Ianto assumed were various rooms, one of which would be the medical facilities. Waited and ... awaited, it appeared. For what, Ianto had no clue, but knowing the erratic nature demonstrated thus far by the Doctor it could be anything from a declaration of love to an admiration for the color scheme, though Ianto was fairly certain that was more the TARDIS' selection than the Doctor's.
Ridiculous. He was standing in a TARDIS and he was contemplating the decor.
"Bigger on the inside." The Doctor's voice, ringing with pride, failed to echo despite the deceptive open framework, Ianto noted, an intriguing property that defied most physical assumptions. Something to do with the coral-like structure, like the baby TARDIS on Jack's desk? Or, as the TARDIS grew, did they shed skins or metamorphise like a butterfly, changing states from one to the next through a transformative period?
Rather like his own situation, Ianto quietly chided himself. He adopted his placating smile, the one he used as Jack would go on telling stories he had already told Ianto, knowing full-well that Jack's purpose in telling the stories were often more for his benefit than Ianto's. Seemed the repetition helped banish whatever ghosts haunted him. "Of course," Ianto replied with some amusement; maybe he should have shown a little awe and wonder as he'd stepped inside? But he'd already heard the TARDIS standing right outside the door; he didn't think that there would be much more that would truly strike him with awe after experiencing her on that level. Then again, that wasn't the 'normal' response to the TARDIS, if the Doctor's reactions were anything to go by. Fuck it all, he was horrible at the normal stuff around alien tech and beings. "I hardly believed two could stand comfortably within a police box, much less two who had previously threatened violence upon the other person."
Ianto swore he heard laughter within his mind, but that was simply not possible.
Except when it was.
He understood that the TARDIS was helping him, softening his physical response to the Doctor's presence and all the destruction by his hands. He simply could not comprehend why.
Ianto did find himself entertained by the thought of making the Doctor peevish, however, if his crestfallen appearance was any indication. If Ianto couldn't kill him, arrest him, banish him, lock him up or any of the various things he instinctively wished to do, he could at the very least irritate the man who was using him to satisfy a personal curiosity.
And then maybe he would leave before any danger followed. Ianto found himself preferring that option more and more as time progressed; maybe the Doctor would leave before the Earth was threatened. "Do you have medical facilities, sir?" Ianto asked before the Doctor could say anything; the quicker they moved on, the quicker they would be done with this nonsense. "Or do you have the devices in this area?"
"You surprise me, Mr. Jones." The Doctor was definitely disappointed, Ianto noted with some sense of satisfaction, no matter how childish. With a wave and no hesitation or waiting to see if Ianto would follow, he turned down the hall, chattering as he went. "This way, then. At least I think it's this way, the TARDIS might have moved the room since last it was used. Not much need of it myself, but it is useful..."
The Doctor continued his monologue of empty anecdotes as they walked; Ianto mostly tuned them out for filler as they took one hall and then another, multiple doors opened and shut before he could see what was inside, an action that he theorized was more to pique intrigue rather than anything secretive hidden inside. Or perhaps not, but he did believe the Doctor devious enough to try.
"Ah! Here we are."
Ianto followed the Doctor into a room which looked ... as un-medical facility as he could imagine. Not that it wasn't sterile -- he was fairly certain that not a single microbe was any where it shouldn't be in the room. It was simply ... bare. Oh, there was an exam table in the center of the room, lit by an unseen light from above. And it was far above, the ceiling stretched upwards much as the 'bridge' area had, all colored in a similar peach, which was a bit of a relief from what Ianto dreamt about white walls, four corners and a sensation of being caged; either the Battle of Canary Wharf or Providence Park as they seemed to vacillate between the two nightmare scenarios. But there was nothing else in the room, just the exam table shroud in light.
It reminded Ianto far too much of horror movies for his liking, the serial killer spotlighting his place of work, with probably a camera or two hidden near the ceiling. Not in corners, this room was rounded. And empty. Just ... empty. What kind of medical facility was this?
"This really is unnecessary," Ianto said, doing his best to keep any anxiety out of his voice. Was the Doctor even really a doctor? This was absurd; he was willingly submitting to some kind of exam by the same man who fled while Torchwood One still burned and whose list of grievous accomplishments began anew every time Ianto looked at him. .
"Bah! Nonsense. Hop up on the table." The Doctor whirled around from the wall near the door, what appeared to be a tablet computer in his hand and some sort of ... pen device. Visions of alien probes from science fiction movies replayed in quick fashion, something Ianto sincerely hoped were not part of the planned exam and something he would most certainly protest. It was ridiculous, really, panicking over what appeared to be an innocuous device. He nearly laughed at himself until he remembered the control he so valued and what could be perceived from unexplained laughter.
He didn't really think the Doctor would understand the joke .
With as much composure as he could manage, Ianto pushed himself up on to the table as he would sitting on a kitchen counter. Reassurance filled his mind, though whether it was his doing or the TARDIS' Ianto couldn't be sure, but he never stopped assuring himself that the tests would show he was human, just as the tests Owen and Martha ran proved that he was human. There was nothing to worry about, no need for panic. He'd sit through these tests and be done with the Doctor.
"Raise your right hand."
The Doctor peered over his glasses, waiting for Ianto to comply with the request, and despite how little it made sense, Ianto raised his right hand. A trickle of thought crept into his mind, nothing that Ianto would allow to solidify into much more than just a notion, but for a fleeting moment as he did as the Doctor asked and next raised his left hand, Ianto considered adding Lisa to the Doctor's list of deaths.
It was wrong and untrue, but for just a fraction of a second, he rejoiced in the idea of having someone to blame, for allaying his guilt and placing it on the Doctor. Just one more name to the incredible list of charges, a list of thousands upon thousands; one name wouldn't matter as much as the feeling of relief and direction would to Ianto.
The taste of temptation while he inhaled at the Doctor's request was sweet.
But on the demand for an exhale, Ianto knew he wouldn't do it. Not for the Doctor's sake, but his own.
"Right. That's not going to work. Can you loosen your tie?" Blinking at the Doctor's question, Ianto tried to understand what the hell his tie had to do with any sort of testing the Doctor might be running with the tablet and pen thing. The pen hovered in the vicinity of his neck while the Doctor waited for him to comply, something Ianto wasn't exactly inclined to do as he simply didn't trust the other man. It was a tie, just fabric. Not like the scanning device didn't have to go through layers of tissue. "And unbutton the first two buttons on your shirt. It's interfering with the scan."
Jack was the only person whom Ianto couldn't always discern was lying, though most times his instincts were fairly accurate. He reluctantly added the Doctor to the limited list as he waited impatiently for Ianto to do as requested. Ianto waited just a moment longer to see if the Doctor so much as twitched, but when that failed, he gave up and tugged at his tie (dark cranberry, his 'Tuesday' or 'Calm the Visiting UNIT Representative' tie, whichever name was applicable for the day) and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt to allow the Doctor access for ... whatever scans still needed to be done.
"Excellent. You have remarkable finger dexterity, Mr. Jones."
Ianto quickly stifled the inelegant snort of either disbelief or amusement -- he wasn't quite sure which emotion fueled the reaction. But Jack had once said something similar, although the scenario in which those words were spoken was vastly different.
"Now, stand on your left foot and hop once."
His eyes narrowed on the Doctor as the man side-stepped away from the exam table, almost as though he was expecting a reaction like the instinctual foot-to-the-groin that flashed across Ianto's mind. Maybe he would reconsider adding Lisa's name to the Doctor's list of crimes against Universal Law. But he had more self-control than what the Doctor expected of him and simply curled his fingers around the edge of exam table in a grip that would surely dent the warm metal. "I can't imagine any possible medical reason for such a demonstration."
Whatever expression he held, Ianto believed it just served to entertain the Doctor, whose grin stretched from ear-to-ear as he began tapping the pen on the tablet. "Of course not. Scans started once you walked into the room. Just wanted to see if I could get you to loosen your tie."
Furious did little to describe his ire as Ianto stiffly re-buttoned his shirt and cinched the tie back into place, an action which took him twice as long as necessary due to the thousand curses in various languages scrolling rapidly though his mind, all the things he wished to say about the Doctor's personhood, his ancestors, and quite possibly even extending to the Doctor's (neutered) sexual performance.
He said nothing, however, reining himself in with the practiced control of both caring for his mother and dealing with those who wished to mock. Those skills had served him as well at both Torchwoods as they did now.
His temper had always been his control, though that had been increasingly frayed of late.
"Hmm." The Doctor's scowl and the rapid increase in the staccato-tapping of what Ianto now believed to be a stylus on the tablet computer were worth his silence and control. Finally, the Doctor looked up with an expression of such perplexity that Ianto filed the memory away for further amusement when perhaps the coffee roast he preferred was out of stock. Or when Myfanwy ate something that disagreed with her digestive system. Or for no significant reason at all, just amusement's sake. "You're human."
Ianto fought to keep the victorious smirk from his face, the one he used often in the presence of Owen. Now that this nonsense was over, perhaps the Doctor would leave, everyone would be satisfied with the results and the monitoring would cease. A lot of maybes, Ianto knew, but the team would hardly have an excuse to maintain the surveillance if it came from a 'reputable' (at least, unquestionable) source that Ianto was human, healthy and nothing was to be feared. "You seem surprised," was the most diplomatic thing Ianto could think to say.
"No. Well, yes." The tablet was flipped upside down, and Ianto wasn't exactly sure how that was going to change the results of the diagnostics, but he kept his mouth shut as the Doctor tapped the stylus against his lips while he, for all appearances, thought. "DNA indicates 21st century human, born in the 20th. And perfectly healthy. No chromosomal abnormalities...no mutations in the mitochondria..." The Doctor frowned again and righted the computer in his hands -- though for all Ianto knew he could be reading it sideways or upside down -- and angled it to achieve better lighting. "No indication of neural decay, now that's unnatural for an ape of your age and era..."
Perhaps his desire to appear human had some kinks to be worked out. "If you've nothing further and as your results say I'm healthy, might we return to the Hub? I've some filing I'd like to complete before end of day."
"Doesn't explain your ... " The Doctor's voice trailed off as he stared at the data in his hands, apparently trying as hard as he may to derive answers from the apparent lack of anything abnormal. Ianto didn't really care how long he stared at the results, so long as he left immediately upon Ianto's exit from his ship. "Though, I don't suppose ... no, no abnormal activity ... " He continued to mutter various half-sentences and possibilities, but each time Ianto cheered just a little when he cut himself off, discontinuing the line of thought when the scan results disproved it. Eventually the mutterings stopped, and the Doctor glanced up with a smile that Ianto had to question the sincerity of. "Well, Mr. Jones, I guess congratulations for your good health are in order."
Before Ianto could decide whether a 'thank you' or an 'I told you so' was preferable under these circumstances, a whirling, grinding sound flooded the room, echoing off the high ceiling. Or perhaps it was more an internalized echo for all it bounced off Ianto's nerves, winding them to an anxious pitch until Ianto swore the floor even vibrated.
Or maybe it was.
From the Doctor's expression, he wasn't alone in his confusion.
"What?"
Ianto scowled as his voice and the Doctor's posed the same question, but any hope for an answer was was cut off (and ignored) as the Doctor turned and sprinted out the door. Quickly following suit, as he had no intention on getting lost in the maze of corridors they took to arrive at the medical room, Ianto ran after, trailing the Doctor and mimicking almost every lurch and collision with a wall as the TARDIS' physical stability was seriously brought into doubt.
No fear -- not yet at any rate. But Ianto counted for the second time that day the tempo of his racing heart in response to the unexplained. He'd collapse for certain by the end of the day, dead to the world as exhaustion claimed him.
The distance they ran was much shorter than their initial travel through the hall -- or maybe Ianto was descending into a bit of a panic despite his self-assurance to the contrary -- and he stumbled onto the bridge as the TARDIS shifted again, the patterned whirring sound matching the tempo of the plunging central column, and if not for the frantic pace of his mind he would have laughed as an imaginary Jack made a lewd comment regarding the TARDIS and space/time ...
Of course, Jack wasn't with them on the TARDIS, nor did Ianto have any idea what he should be doing as the Doctor jumped from station to station, pushing buttons and pulling levers all while interjecting a few choice phrases which may not have been foul language, but were curses all the same.
He wasn't panicking. He wasn't.
And maybe if he kept lying to himself, he could pretend he didn't have a clue what was going on and that they weren't traveling from one point in space to another, without the Doctor's apparent permission or involvement, and most importantly, without his.
He was with the Doctor. He was traveling with the Doctor. The man who had wrecked so much destruction upon the known universe and he was trapped in a bloody police box with the man.
Ianto grabbed a railing and clung to it as he seriously considered whether motion sickness tabs for interstellar travel were a marketable item. Depended on the constitution of the consumer, he supposed, and the general affordability of space travel combined with the frequency that one flew. Flew? Was the verb "flew" appropriate in space as one was technically moving through a vacuum, not air, and so aerodynamic physics held no meaning on either the shape of the object traveling or the manner in which one traveled.
Fuck, he couldn't breathe. What if none of the air that was in the Hub traveled with them? Was the TARDIS air-tight? Did it need to be?
Ianto gave up on the flimsy premise of pretending he wasn't scared out of his mind and rejected all attempts to calm his thoughts by the TARDIS.
Well, shit. Jack was going to be displeased when he got back and had to clean out the SUV by himself.
***
Minutes ... hours ... fuck if Ianto could tell how much time passed. All he knew was that if he wasn't grabbing onto the railing, his hands would most likely be visibly trembling. But at least the violent slides of the TARDIS had subsided, as had the rhythmic grinding sounds. In fact, if Ianto were to be asked he would say they had arrived at whatever their intended destination and were parked.
It was peaceful, the absence of chaos.
He was the only one enjoying it, however. Ianto watched as the Doctor dashed for the console on the far side of the central column, typing furiously into the keyboard while he talked to himself.
Curious bad habit, talking to one's self. He'd point out that it could be a sign of mental instability but Ianto didn't think the Doctor would appreciate the comment right now.
While the Doctor was distracted, Ianto edged closer to the door; if they had landed elsewhere on Earth, he could at least escape and catch a flight home. That idea was preferable to spending any more than the required time with the Doctor for medical purposes, time which had run out the moment his scans had turned up clear and the TARDIS had moved. If they were elsewhere in the galaxy, well, Ianto was willing to believe that his chances for survival and eventual return to Jack increased exponentially the further he was from the Doctor.
Though the same could be said about lifespans and Torchwood, but Ianto refused to allow that thought to cross his mind.
"No, no, no, that's impossi-" The Doctor put a finger to his chin, tapping it three times before he spun on his heels and faced Ianto directly; terribly unnerving as Ianto had been attempting to be discreet as he moved. He removed the glasses while he talked, taking care to fold them gently before tucking them into his pocket. "But nothing's impossible, is it, Mr. Jones? Is that even your name? I prefer John Smith myself, but that's just a derivative, isn't it?"
"Wh-what?" Ianto couldn't stop the stammer as he drew his hands away from the railing, instinctively taking a step away from the Doctor. It wasn't that he was afraid of the Doctor, or maybe he was. He knew what the man could do and he was trapped on his bloody ship with him. But what he was more afraid of what the Doctor appeared to know, or at least what he assumed to know. The computer he had been looking at told him something. "My name is Ianto Jones, it always has been."
"I don't believe you." The Doctor actually took a step forward ('stalking his prey' was more apt a description, he could even see the tiger ready to pounce) before stopping a body length away from where Ianto stood, arms crossed and looking deceptively calm. It was his eyes that belied any moderate intent -- Ianto saw fury of a thousand ages but he didn't know why. Tickling at the edges of his mind, he could feel the TARDIS attempting to, what, apologize? Soothing, like she was attempting to calm a cornered beast. Well, that's sure as hell what Ianto felt like, and he hoped she was trying to do the same thing to the one cornering him. "I know what you are. Where is your H'd-toba? Did you leave them behind as well when you abandoned your kind?"
Running the name over the various languages he had a loose understanding of, Ianto came up empty for anything resembling a translation. Given that it was most likely an alien name (one that his mind helpfully supplied a definition in equally garbled tongue), Ianto wasn't surprised that nothing on Earth resembled the name.
But that didn't disturb him so much as what the Doctor was implying. While he may not be as brave as Jack (or any of the team, for that matter), he was no coward. And he would never, ever abandon his team. Or family. Of that he was certain.
Resolve drowned out any fear he had in those few moments with the Doctor -- a terror he half blamed on their little sojourn to wherever they had landed -- and he built a shield of defiance around himself. He would die before abandoning his team; he would rather risk his life and freedom to save his girlfriend as Torchwood London fell than flee at the first given opportunity, instead of seeing the consequences of actions.
The Doctor may not have been responsible for Yvonne Hartmann's decisions to encourage and study the ghost shifts, but he sure as hell showed no courage in helping the innocent who still lived after the fall.
A man should not throw stones when he himself is made of glass.
Facing the Doctor was never an easier task, his back straight as he would have worn to any Torchwood One meeting, or on occasion he was required to attend a meeting with Jack in the presence of Her Majesty (he'd worn his most expensive tailored suit that day; Jack had shown no regard for the finery when he later threw the jacket on the floor). Not that he was no longer on the Doctor's 'turf' as it were, but he was no longer cowed. "I don't know what H'd-toba means, but my name is Ianto Jones and I have never abandoned a soul I did not first try to save."
"You don't know ... " Ianto swore he could see the gears visibly spinning in the Doctor's head as confusion ate away at the livid expression until all that remained was, what, frustration? Pity? No, maybe empathy; the man had no answers but understood that he didn't understand. Or maybe he did, and Ianto was the one in confusion. But he couldn't be that far wrong about himself. He knew little of his alien origins, he knew even less about where they came from, how they lived or how the Doctor might know them, but he knew who Ianto Jones was.
What the Doctor believed of him held no importance as Ianto knew full-well who the Time Lord was.
Ianto took advantage of the Doctor's softening, thoughtful expression and felt for the handle on the door. It wasn't too great a stretch, and beyond, well, he didn't know what lands lay beyond, but he knew he wouldn't be forced to share such close quarters with the man who claimed he knew who and what Ianto was.
It wasn't a trick of any sorts to turn the handle, it was even less of a challenge to turn on his heel as he pulled open the door.
It was, however, a great feat to ignore the Doctor's shouted, "Ianto, don't!", a voice which brokered no argument, but Ianto disagreed anyway.
Lifting his eyes to the outside world, Ianto stared into darkness lit by thousands upon thousands of stars, stars and splattered galaxies spinning across a far sky, stars and the sheer absence of light filling pockets of space where nothing breathed and everything died, stars and the quiet shades of planets darkening their brilliance by their passing, revolution upon revolution marking a passage of time on a small scale in comparison to the stretching spans of millennia tracing the paths of lives once lived.
And just outside the TARDIS' door, lazily spinning, were thousands- no, millions of rocks. Asteroids. Dancing a massive spatial dance with inertia leading while everyone else followed, spinning and twirling, occasionally bumping but never still in the relatively slow-moving skirt decorating the legs of a brilliant yellow star.
Thousands, no, millions of rocks in a swath of destruction, the rippling wake of a catastrophe Ianto couldn't explain but felt so viscerally he knew the name without ever having to see its face ...
Halcyon.
Next Chapter
Series 'Verse: The Windhovers
Chapter: 3 of 4
Author: sarcasticchick
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: R
Spoilers: TW S1, S2
Fluffers/Betas: lilithilien
Summary: "All truths are easy to understand once they are discovered; the point is to discover them." - Galileo Galilei
A/N: The collecting of beer coasters is called "tegestology." The collecting of empty beer bottles is known as "the morning after, did I really drink all these?"
Previous Chapters:
The Windhovers: The Beginning (complete)
The Fledgling (1 of 4)
The Fledgling (2 of 4)
(Previously in "The Windhovers: The Fledgling"): Resigned and mentally preparing himself for whatever he might see inside, Ianto followed the eager man to the doors of the blue police box.
The Doctor opened the door with a flourish; presumably he took great pride in showing off the TARDIS. Ianto's thoughts regarding the Doctor took a secondary track, however, just flitting alongside awareness, as the calming pressure within his mind turned ... well, excited was the best he could describe it. As much as it was repressing his physical response to the Doctor, Ianto could feel his own nerves coil in knotted anticipation, mirroring the stranger within his mind, while beneath his suit, goosepimples prickled his skin.
Consciously drawing a deep breath, Ianto pressed his palm flat against the blue door.
It was just like the growing one in Jack's office, she was just like the one in Jack's office, only ... more. Ianto stared at his hand until pale skin and veins blurred, no longer seeing but listening as she sang a welcome. It was a beautiful melody reverberating deep within Ianto's bones, haunting and exhilarating as her anthem flew, twisted and dove in pitches and tones he instinctively knew had no earthly origin and no apparent measure of time. Wrapping about him like water from the tropics, baked in the equatorial sun, Ianto felt completely immersed in the song, not that he'd stop it if he could. He couldn't recall the fear, much less revulsion, he'd experienced earlier. In fact, Ianto couldn't remember anything at all as within the melody he vanished, a mere fragment of thought drifting with the melody.
Beautiful.
But it was so much more; even his thoughts couldn't describe the scope of what he was hearing to himself and he certainly wouldn't ever be able to explain it if asked. The music lived. No, Ianto corrected himself, the music simply existed, as it always had when the stars began and as it would when they dimmed.
She had a voice, whereas the one -- immature? young? -- in Jack's office lacked the personality, lacked the spirit though, Ianto could still see the possibilities in comparison. This TARDIS ... she was old, maybe ancient, though whether her age came from a time in the future or the past, Ianto couldn't tell. But he had to smile as the tone shifted to almost ... one of mischief. Playful, perhaps.
"Ianto?"
Consciously blinking as sound disturbed the focus of his mind, Ianto forced himself to shift his attention from the TARDIS to the speaker who wasn't glaring but seemingly intrigued for all he was casually leaning in the blue doorway.
How long had he been standing outside the TARDIS? And more importantly, Ianto wondered just what he may have given away by not following the Doctor inside, to the extent that the Doctor was calling him by his first name?
Focus. He needed to focus before something went horribly wrong.
"Just wait till you see the inside." The Doctor was all boyish grin and if Ianto didn't know better, he'd say the Doctor was as anxious as he awaiting Ianto to set foot inside the TARDIS, but for probably vastly different reasons. He reminded Ianto of the few times he could remember his father and he buying a little trinket for his mother for Christmas. It was never anything grand, he understood now, but Ianto could remember being barely able to contain himself in anticipation of his mother's face when she opened the gift. Her expression had meant everything, did even when she was too confused or lost within herself to fathom why the gift, much less who the giver was. But Ianto had always waited, excited and anxious, seeking approval he supposed.
Kind of made him wonder about what sort of approval the Doctor sought, if the expressions were analogous.
With a sharp nod that Ianto hoped revealed nothing of his thoughts or his wonder at the TARDIS, he stepped closer to the door before waiting for the Doctor to precede him. It was his ship to show off, after all.
Ianto wasn't disappointed in the least.
He'd known, somehow -- maybe he'd read it in a file at Torchwood One -- that the TARDIS had interior dimensions unrelated to the apparent physical shape of the exterior. She was impressive all the same, seemed to almost be preening as he took in the .. bridge? Just one step across the threshold had led Ianto into a place so unlike any he'd seen and he resisted every urge to step back outside and review the dimensions of the police box to reaffirm what he was seeing. He understood the concept to a limited extent, and so while his eyes scanned over every surface and took in everything from the scattered technology (some foreign even to the scrolling data within his mind) to the graceful architecture of the TARDIS, Ianto kept himself still, hands clasped behind his back, absorbing everything he saw to define and understand (and perhaps question) later.
She was grand, he had to give her that. And his acknowledgment seemed to amuse the quiet song still humming in his mind.
The Doctor waited for him just beyond the central column, in the doorway of what appeared to be a hallway leading deeper into the TARDIS and what Ianto assumed were various rooms, one of which would be the medical facilities. Waited and ... awaited, it appeared. For what, Ianto had no clue, but knowing the erratic nature demonstrated thus far by the Doctor it could be anything from a declaration of love to an admiration for the color scheme, though Ianto was fairly certain that was more the TARDIS' selection than the Doctor's.
Ridiculous. He was standing in a TARDIS and he was contemplating the decor.
"Bigger on the inside." The Doctor's voice, ringing with pride, failed to echo despite the deceptive open framework, Ianto noted, an intriguing property that defied most physical assumptions. Something to do with the coral-like structure, like the baby TARDIS on Jack's desk? Or, as the TARDIS grew, did they shed skins or metamorphise like a butterfly, changing states from one to the next through a transformative period?
Rather like his own situation, Ianto quietly chided himself. He adopted his placating smile, the one he used as Jack would go on telling stories he had already told Ianto, knowing full-well that Jack's purpose in telling the stories were often more for his benefit than Ianto's. Seemed the repetition helped banish whatever ghosts haunted him. "Of course," Ianto replied with some amusement; maybe he should have shown a little awe and wonder as he'd stepped inside? But he'd already heard the TARDIS standing right outside the door; he didn't think that there would be much more that would truly strike him with awe after experiencing her on that level. Then again, that wasn't the 'normal' response to the TARDIS, if the Doctor's reactions were anything to go by. Fuck it all, he was horrible at the normal stuff around alien tech and beings. "I hardly believed two could stand comfortably within a police box, much less two who had previously threatened violence upon the other person."
Ianto swore he heard laughter within his mind, but that was simply not possible.
Except when it was.
He understood that the TARDIS was helping him, softening his physical response to the Doctor's presence and all the destruction by his hands. He simply could not comprehend why.
Ianto did find himself entertained by the thought of making the Doctor peevish, however, if his crestfallen appearance was any indication. If Ianto couldn't kill him, arrest him, banish him, lock him up or any of the various things he instinctively wished to do, he could at the very least irritate the man who was using him to satisfy a personal curiosity.
And then maybe he would leave before any danger followed. Ianto found himself preferring that option more and more as time progressed; maybe the Doctor would leave before the Earth was threatened. "Do you have medical facilities, sir?" Ianto asked before the Doctor could say anything; the quicker they moved on, the quicker they would be done with this nonsense. "Or do you have the devices in this area?"
"You surprise me, Mr. Jones." The Doctor was definitely disappointed, Ianto noted with some sense of satisfaction, no matter how childish. With a wave and no hesitation or waiting to see if Ianto would follow, he turned down the hall, chattering as he went. "This way, then. At least I think it's this way, the TARDIS might have moved the room since last it was used. Not much need of it myself, but it is useful..."
The Doctor continued his monologue of empty anecdotes as they walked; Ianto mostly tuned them out for filler as they took one hall and then another, multiple doors opened and shut before he could see what was inside, an action that he theorized was more to pique intrigue rather than anything secretive hidden inside. Or perhaps not, but he did believe the Doctor devious enough to try.
"Ah! Here we are."
Ianto followed the Doctor into a room which looked ... as un-medical facility as he could imagine. Not that it wasn't sterile -- he was fairly certain that not a single microbe was any where it shouldn't be in the room. It was simply ... bare. Oh, there was an exam table in the center of the room, lit by an unseen light from above. And it was far above, the ceiling stretched upwards much as the 'bridge' area had, all colored in a similar peach, which was a bit of a relief from what Ianto dreamt about white walls, four corners and a sensation of being caged; either the Battle of Canary Wharf or Providence Park as they seemed to vacillate between the two nightmare scenarios. But there was nothing else in the room, just the exam table shroud in light.
It reminded Ianto far too much of horror movies for his liking, the serial killer spotlighting his place of work, with probably a camera or two hidden near the ceiling. Not in corners, this room was rounded. And empty. Just ... empty. What kind of medical facility was this?
"This really is unnecessary," Ianto said, doing his best to keep any anxiety out of his voice. Was the Doctor even really a doctor? This was absurd; he was willingly submitting to some kind of exam by the same man who fled while Torchwood One still burned and whose list of grievous accomplishments began anew every time Ianto looked at him. .
"Bah! Nonsense. Hop up on the table." The Doctor whirled around from the wall near the door, what appeared to be a tablet computer in his hand and some sort of ... pen device. Visions of alien probes from science fiction movies replayed in quick fashion, something Ianto sincerely hoped were not part of the planned exam and something he would most certainly protest. It was ridiculous, really, panicking over what appeared to be an innocuous device. He nearly laughed at himself until he remembered the control he so valued and what could be perceived from unexplained laughter.
He didn't really think the Doctor would understand the joke .
With as much composure as he could manage, Ianto pushed himself up on to the table as he would sitting on a kitchen counter. Reassurance filled his mind, though whether it was his doing or the TARDIS' Ianto couldn't be sure, but he never stopped assuring himself that the tests would show he was human, just as the tests Owen and Martha ran proved that he was human. There was nothing to worry about, no need for panic. He'd sit through these tests and be done with the Doctor.
"Raise your right hand."
The Doctor peered over his glasses, waiting for Ianto to comply with the request, and despite how little it made sense, Ianto raised his right hand. A trickle of thought crept into his mind, nothing that Ianto would allow to solidify into much more than just a notion, but for a fleeting moment as he did as the Doctor asked and next raised his left hand, Ianto considered adding Lisa to the Doctor's list of deaths.
It was wrong and untrue, but for just a fraction of a second, he rejoiced in the idea of having someone to blame, for allaying his guilt and placing it on the Doctor. Just one more name to the incredible list of charges, a list of thousands upon thousands; one name wouldn't matter as much as the feeling of relief and direction would to Ianto.
The taste of temptation while he inhaled at the Doctor's request was sweet.
But on the demand for an exhale, Ianto knew he wouldn't do it. Not for the Doctor's sake, but his own.
"Right. That's not going to work. Can you loosen your tie?" Blinking at the Doctor's question, Ianto tried to understand what the hell his tie had to do with any sort of testing the Doctor might be running with the tablet and pen thing. The pen hovered in the vicinity of his neck while the Doctor waited for him to comply, something Ianto wasn't exactly inclined to do as he simply didn't trust the other man. It was a tie, just fabric. Not like the scanning device didn't have to go through layers of tissue. "And unbutton the first two buttons on your shirt. It's interfering with the scan."
Jack was the only person whom Ianto couldn't always discern was lying, though most times his instincts were fairly accurate. He reluctantly added the Doctor to the limited list as he waited impatiently for Ianto to do as requested. Ianto waited just a moment longer to see if the Doctor so much as twitched, but when that failed, he gave up and tugged at his tie (dark cranberry, his 'Tuesday' or 'Calm the Visiting UNIT Representative' tie, whichever name was applicable for the day) and unbuttoned the first two buttons of his shirt to allow the Doctor access for ... whatever scans still needed to be done.
"Excellent. You have remarkable finger dexterity, Mr. Jones."
Ianto quickly stifled the inelegant snort of either disbelief or amusement -- he wasn't quite sure which emotion fueled the reaction. But Jack had once said something similar, although the scenario in which those words were spoken was vastly different.
"Now, stand on your left foot and hop once."
His eyes narrowed on the Doctor as the man side-stepped away from the exam table, almost as though he was expecting a reaction like the instinctual foot-to-the-groin that flashed across Ianto's mind. Maybe he would reconsider adding Lisa's name to the Doctor's list of crimes against Universal Law. But he had more self-control than what the Doctor expected of him and simply curled his fingers around the edge of exam table in a grip that would surely dent the warm metal. "I can't imagine any possible medical reason for such a demonstration."
Whatever expression he held, Ianto believed it just served to entertain the Doctor, whose grin stretched from ear-to-ear as he began tapping the pen on the tablet. "Of course not. Scans started once you walked into the room. Just wanted to see if I could get you to loosen your tie."
Furious did little to describe his ire as Ianto stiffly re-buttoned his shirt and cinched the tie back into place, an action which took him twice as long as necessary due to the thousand curses in various languages scrolling rapidly though his mind, all the things he wished to say about the Doctor's personhood, his ancestors, and quite possibly even extending to the Doctor's (neutered) sexual performance.
He said nothing, however, reining himself in with the practiced control of both caring for his mother and dealing with those who wished to mock. Those skills had served him as well at both Torchwoods as they did now.
His temper had always been his control, though that had been increasingly frayed of late.
"Hmm." The Doctor's scowl and the rapid increase in the staccato-tapping of what Ianto now believed to be a stylus on the tablet computer were worth his silence and control. Finally, the Doctor looked up with an expression of such perplexity that Ianto filed the memory away for further amusement when perhaps the coffee roast he preferred was out of stock. Or when Myfanwy ate something that disagreed with her digestive system. Or for no significant reason at all, just amusement's sake. "You're human."
Ianto fought to keep the victorious smirk from his face, the one he used often in the presence of Owen. Now that this nonsense was over, perhaps the Doctor would leave, everyone would be satisfied with the results and the monitoring would cease. A lot of maybes, Ianto knew, but the team would hardly have an excuse to maintain the surveillance if it came from a 'reputable' (at least, unquestionable) source that Ianto was human, healthy and nothing was to be feared. "You seem surprised," was the most diplomatic thing Ianto could think to say.
"No. Well, yes." The tablet was flipped upside down, and Ianto wasn't exactly sure how that was going to change the results of the diagnostics, but he kept his mouth shut as the Doctor tapped the stylus against his lips while he, for all appearances, thought. "DNA indicates 21st century human, born in the 20th. And perfectly healthy. No chromosomal abnormalities...no mutations in the mitochondria..." The Doctor frowned again and righted the computer in his hands -- though for all Ianto knew he could be reading it sideways or upside down -- and angled it to achieve better lighting. "No indication of neural decay, now that's unnatural for an ape of your age and era..."
Perhaps his desire to appear human had some kinks to be worked out. "If you've nothing further and as your results say I'm healthy, might we return to the Hub? I've some filing I'd like to complete before end of day."
"Doesn't explain your ... " The Doctor's voice trailed off as he stared at the data in his hands, apparently trying as hard as he may to derive answers from the apparent lack of anything abnormal. Ianto didn't really care how long he stared at the results, so long as he left immediately upon Ianto's exit from his ship. "Though, I don't suppose ... no, no abnormal activity ... " He continued to mutter various half-sentences and possibilities, but each time Ianto cheered just a little when he cut himself off, discontinuing the line of thought when the scan results disproved it. Eventually the mutterings stopped, and the Doctor glanced up with a smile that Ianto had to question the sincerity of. "Well, Mr. Jones, I guess congratulations for your good health are in order."
Before Ianto could decide whether a 'thank you' or an 'I told you so' was preferable under these circumstances, a whirling, grinding sound flooded the room, echoing off the high ceiling. Or perhaps it was more an internalized echo for all it bounced off Ianto's nerves, winding them to an anxious pitch until Ianto swore the floor even vibrated.
Or maybe it was.
From the Doctor's expression, he wasn't alone in his confusion.
"What?"
Ianto scowled as his voice and the Doctor's posed the same question, but any hope for an answer was was cut off (and ignored) as the Doctor turned and sprinted out the door. Quickly following suit, as he had no intention on getting lost in the maze of corridors they took to arrive at the medical room, Ianto ran after, trailing the Doctor and mimicking almost every lurch and collision with a wall as the TARDIS' physical stability was seriously brought into doubt.
No fear -- not yet at any rate. But Ianto counted for the second time that day the tempo of his racing heart in response to the unexplained. He'd collapse for certain by the end of the day, dead to the world as exhaustion claimed him.
The distance they ran was much shorter than their initial travel through the hall -- or maybe Ianto was descending into a bit of a panic despite his self-assurance to the contrary -- and he stumbled onto the bridge as the TARDIS shifted again, the patterned whirring sound matching the tempo of the plunging central column, and if not for the frantic pace of his mind he would have laughed as an imaginary Jack made a lewd comment regarding the TARDIS and space/time ...
Of course, Jack wasn't with them on the TARDIS, nor did Ianto have any idea what he should be doing as the Doctor jumped from station to station, pushing buttons and pulling levers all while interjecting a few choice phrases which may not have been foul language, but were curses all the same.
He wasn't panicking. He wasn't.
And maybe if he kept lying to himself, he could pretend he didn't have a clue what was going on and that they weren't traveling from one point in space to another, without the Doctor's apparent permission or involvement, and most importantly, without his.
He was with the Doctor. He was traveling with the Doctor. The man who had wrecked so much destruction upon the known universe and he was trapped in a bloody police box with the man.
Ianto grabbed a railing and clung to it as he seriously considered whether motion sickness tabs for interstellar travel were a marketable item. Depended on the constitution of the consumer, he supposed, and the general affordability of space travel combined with the frequency that one flew. Flew? Was the verb "flew" appropriate in space as one was technically moving through a vacuum, not air, and so aerodynamic physics held no meaning on either the shape of the object traveling or the manner in which one traveled.
Fuck, he couldn't breathe. What if none of the air that was in the Hub traveled with them? Was the TARDIS air-tight? Did it need to be?
Ianto gave up on the flimsy premise of pretending he wasn't scared out of his mind and rejected all attempts to calm his thoughts by the TARDIS.
Well, shit. Jack was going to be displeased when he got back and had to clean out the SUV by himself.
***
Minutes ... hours ... fuck if Ianto could tell how much time passed. All he knew was that if he wasn't grabbing onto the railing, his hands would most likely be visibly trembling. But at least the violent slides of the TARDIS had subsided, as had the rhythmic grinding sounds. In fact, if Ianto were to be asked he would say they had arrived at whatever their intended destination and were parked.
It was peaceful, the absence of chaos.
He was the only one enjoying it, however. Ianto watched as the Doctor dashed for the console on the far side of the central column, typing furiously into the keyboard while he talked to himself.
Curious bad habit, talking to one's self. He'd point out that it could be a sign of mental instability but Ianto didn't think the Doctor would appreciate the comment right now.
While the Doctor was distracted, Ianto edged closer to the door; if they had landed elsewhere on Earth, he could at least escape and catch a flight home. That idea was preferable to spending any more than the required time with the Doctor for medical purposes, time which had run out the moment his scans had turned up clear and the TARDIS had moved. If they were elsewhere in the galaxy, well, Ianto was willing to believe that his chances for survival and eventual return to Jack increased exponentially the further he was from the Doctor.
Though the same could be said about lifespans and Torchwood, but Ianto refused to allow that thought to cross his mind.
"No, no, no, that's impossi-" The Doctor put a finger to his chin, tapping it three times before he spun on his heels and faced Ianto directly; terribly unnerving as Ianto had been attempting to be discreet as he moved. He removed the glasses while he talked, taking care to fold them gently before tucking them into his pocket. "But nothing's impossible, is it, Mr. Jones? Is that even your name? I prefer John Smith myself, but that's just a derivative, isn't it?"
"Wh-what?" Ianto couldn't stop the stammer as he drew his hands away from the railing, instinctively taking a step away from the Doctor. It wasn't that he was afraid of the Doctor, or maybe he was. He knew what the man could do and he was trapped on his bloody ship with him. But what he was more afraid of what the Doctor appeared to know, or at least what he assumed to know. The computer he had been looking at told him something. "My name is Ianto Jones, it always has been."
"I don't believe you." The Doctor actually took a step forward ('stalking his prey' was more apt a description, he could even see the tiger ready to pounce) before stopping a body length away from where Ianto stood, arms crossed and looking deceptively calm. It was his eyes that belied any moderate intent -- Ianto saw fury of a thousand ages but he didn't know why. Tickling at the edges of his mind, he could feel the TARDIS attempting to, what, apologize? Soothing, like she was attempting to calm a cornered beast. Well, that's sure as hell what Ianto felt like, and he hoped she was trying to do the same thing to the one cornering him. "I know what you are. Where is your H'd-toba? Did you leave them behind as well when you abandoned your kind?"
Running the name over the various languages he had a loose understanding of, Ianto came up empty for anything resembling a translation. Given that it was most likely an alien name (one that his mind helpfully supplied a definition in equally garbled tongue), Ianto wasn't surprised that nothing on Earth resembled the name.
But that didn't disturb him so much as what the Doctor was implying. While he may not be as brave as Jack (or any of the team, for that matter), he was no coward. And he would never, ever abandon his team. Or family. Of that he was certain.
Resolve drowned out any fear he had in those few moments with the Doctor -- a terror he half blamed on their little sojourn to wherever they had landed -- and he built a shield of defiance around himself. He would die before abandoning his team; he would rather risk his life and freedom to save his girlfriend as Torchwood London fell than flee at the first given opportunity, instead of seeing the consequences of actions.
The Doctor may not have been responsible for Yvonne Hartmann's decisions to encourage and study the ghost shifts, but he sure as hell showed no courage in helping the innocent who still lived after the fall.
A man should not throw stones when he himself is made of glass.
Facing the Doctor was never an easier task, his back straight as he would have worn to any Torchwood One meeting, or on occasion he was required to attend a meeting with Jack in the presence of Her Majesty (he'd worn his most expensive tailored suit that day; Jack had shown no regard for the finery when he later threw the jacket on the floor). Not that he was no longer on the Doctor's 'turf' as it were, but he was no longer cowed. "I don't know what H'd-toba means, but my name is Ianto Jones and I have never abandoned a soul I did not first try to save."
"You don't know ... " Ianto swore he could see the gears visibly spinning in the Doctor's head as confusion ate away at the livid expression until all that remained was, what, frustration? Pity? No, maybe empathy; the man had no answers but understood that he didn't understand. Or maybe he did, and Ianto was the one in confusion. But he couldn't be that far wrong about himself. He knew little of his alien origins, he knew even less about where they came from, how they lived or how the Doctor might know them, but he knew who Ianto Jones was.
What the Doctor believed of him held no importance as Ianto knew full-well who the Time Lord was.
Ianto took advantage of the Doctor's softening, thoughtful expression and felt for the handle on the door. It wasn't too great a stretch, and beyond, well, he didn't know what lands lay beyond, but he knew he wouldn't be forced to share such close quarters with the man who claimed he knew who and what Ianto was.
It wasn't a trick of any sorts to turn the handle, it was even less of a challenge to turn on his heel as he pulled open the door.
It was, however, a great feat to ignore the Doctor's shouted, "Ianto, don't!", a voice which brokered no argument, but Ianto disagreed anyway.
Lifting his eyes to the outside world, Ianto stared into darkness lit by thousands upon thousands of stars, stars and splattered galaxies spinning across a far sky, stars and the sheer absence of light filling pockets of space where nothing breathed and everything died, stars and the quiet shades of planets darkening their brilliance by their passing, revolution upon revolution marking a passage of time on a small scale in comparison to the stretching spans of millennia tracing the paths of lives once lived.
And just outside the TARDIS' door, lazily spinning, were thousands- no, millions of rocks. Asteroids. Dancing a massive spatial dance with inertia leading while everyone else followed, spinning and twirling, occasionally bumping but never still in the relatively slow-moving skirt decorating the legs of a brilliant yellow star.
Thousands, no, millions of rocks in a swath of destruction, the rippling wake of a catastrophe Ianto couldn't explain but felt so viscerally he knew the name without ever having to see its face ...
Halcyon.
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