Hymns: Ancient and Modern
Title:- Hymns: Ancient and Modern
Characters/Pairings:- Jack/Ianto (past); Jack/OFC; Face of Boe, Hame
Rating:- Suitable for all
Word count:- 1437
Summary:- The Face of Boe shared his love of music with Hame and the people of the motorway but why did he teach them hymns from present day Earth?
Disclaimer:- Property of BBC, RTD and others, not me.
A/N:- Contains spoilers for DW 3.3 (Gridlock) and 3.13 (Last of the Time Lords).
I watched Gridlock recently and this popped into my head. It was harder to write than I expected and I'm still not 100% happy so comments gratefully received.
Many thanks to my beta for suggesting the title which is the name of the hymnal used in many schools and churches in the UK in the 1980s and 90s.
oOo
“A…a…abide w…ith me,” Tavik tentatively caressed the strings of the Sofik lute in her blue hands as she tried to follow the sheet music propped up on the table.
“Fa…a…a,” she sang softly, adjusting her long fingers on the lute, searching for the right note.
“Fast falls the e…e…eventide,” she continued, voice growing in confidence. “The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.”
“When other helpers fail and comforts flee,” she sang, hearing the swish of the automatic doors heralding Jack’s entrance into their spacious apartment.
“Help of the helpless, O abide with me,” she finished, smiling to herself as she pictured Jack standing in the doorway behind her in his long blue coat, specially made in zycon now rather than wool since sheep had become extinct but still holding on to the same look he had kept all the years of their relationship and, if Jack’s stories were to be believed, many, many years before.
“Jack, this music is fantastic, it’s so beautiful and haunting. Where did you get it?” she asked, turning to face her lover. She started slightly as she saw Jack’s face, his skin chalk white, mouth set in a thin line and his eyes hard as flint.
“Jack, I…I didn’t go rummaging in your stuff, the stasis field failed and I had to go into your office to switch off the alarm. When I switched it off the lid on the box opened and… I couldn’t resist… I’m sorry… I’ve only ever seen paper books in museums and a book of music…” she knew she was babbling but Tavik was well aware how closely Jack guarded his privacy. For all the stories he told, she knew very little about the man she shared her life with.
“Jack, I…” Tavik continued, still apologising, but coming closer she could see the tears coursing down Jack’s cheeks. Hurriedly, she dropped the lute on the sofa as she passed and gathered him into her arms.
“Jack, what’s wrong? What happened?” she asked as she settled Jack’s head in the hollow of her armpit (at approaching 3 metres tall Tavik was too tall for Jack to rest his head on her shoulder).
Jack muttered something into her armpit, the words smothered by the fabric of Tavik’s robe.
Unsure what Jack had said Tavik pulled back slightly.
“Pardon?” she asked, caressing his face lightly with her finger, wiping away the tears.
Jack sighed and looked up at his lover. Despite the restrictions of her hard carapace her face showed her concern.
“Look at the book,” Jack said, getting his emotions under control again. Tavik looked at him uncertainly but at Jack’s watery smile she reached out and scooped the book up from the table. She turned the book over in her hands looking for any indication of why the book had provoked such a reaction from Jack but she was not really sure what it was she was looking for.
Seeing Tavik’s continuing confusion Jack took the book from her hands and opened the front cover. Inside was a brightly coloured label, slightly blurred with age.
“Ah,” Tavik sighed, realisation dawning as she read the words printed on the label.
Presented to Ianto Jones
for perfect attendance at
morning service and music group.
Session 1998-99.
Brynglas Church, Newport.
Tavik looked at the book in wonder then, realising its age, replaced it, gently, almost reverently, on the table.
“Jack, I…”
“He played the piano,” Jack began, cutting across her, his voice so quiet it was almost as though he was talking to himself. “He played the organ in church too when he was a young man. Sang in the choir for a bit. His faith meant a lot to him, even after he joined Torchwood, seeing everything we saw…” Jack’s voice tailed off and he stood, nestled in Tavik’s arms, his emotions overtaking him once more.
Tavik sighed. She had heard many stories of Jack’s past, unsure which were true and which not, but the ones that moved her most were the ones of Ianto Jones - not Jack’s first love by any means but the first to knowingly take the immortal Jack Harkness to their heart without any conditions or agenda.
She held Jack for a long time listening to his broken breathing and the occasional sob.
“Hearing that music was like hearing his voice again,” Jack said eventually, his voice almost steady once more. “After all this time the book had become just a book, I’d almost forgotten what it contained, who it had belonged to,” he continued pushing himself out of Tavik’s embrace, his red, puffy eyes the only indicator of his emotional breakdown moments before.
“You loved him very much,” Tavik commented without rancour. She knew Jack had had many loves before her and would have many more loves after she was gone. It had taken time to accept but she was happy simply to have Jack for now. “This music was special to him so it is special to you too,” she continued. “But he wouldn’t have wanted you to keep the music hidden away, Jack. Music needs to be played, shared, enjoyed.” Tavik paused, unsure how Jack would respond to her idea. “Let me copy the music, transcribe it into today’s notation, arrange it for our instruments and we’ll host a concert, a memorial for a lost love. We can introduce people to this music before it gets lost for good - there’s only so many people that can read ancient music scores and the numbers go down each year.”
Jack looked into his lovers compound eyes and thought how different they were from Ianto’s blue ones and yet how like Ianto Tavik could be.
“Ianto would have liked that,” Jack replied, his voice cracking slightly on his long lost lovers name.
oOo
Millennia later Boe sat in his tank in the senate chamber of New New York and listened to the voices of the people trapped in their cars on the motorway as they were raised in song. Beside him Hame’s warm voice joined in the daily contemplation. The original meaning of the words was long lost now but the people took comfort in their shared activity, felt that little less alone and abandoned as they joined together in song.
During his long, so long, life he had loved many times but only a few made an impact like Ianto Jones. Boe had sighed when Hame had asked him, mere months after the highway had been sealed, about the song he had been humming to himself, the one that always reminded him of a certain young Welshman. So much time had passed Boe could hardly remember the sound of Ianto’s voice, the colour of his eyes but in the music, passed from person to person, he lived on.
“What is that music, my master? The music I hear in my head. It is so restful, calming. It makes me feel I can face whatever the future throws at me,” Hame had commented. Sighing, Boe had explained to her what little of the history of the music he could remember. A few days later, in a brief gap when all the systems were running smoothly, Hame had searched the New New York database and found an old recording of the ‘ancient’ music, part of one of Old Earth Christianity’s many revivals. Boe had not objected when she tentatively suggested sharing the peace and tranquillity the music inspired in her with the people of the motorway, and so the daily contemplation had begun.
When, years later, the Doctor finally came and freed the people from the confines of the motorway they, unprompted, raised their collective voices in tearful thanks that their ordeal was over and they were, at long last, free once more. Listening to the distant music, Boe shared his final secret with the Time Lord and allowed his thoughts to turn to the young man he had known so long ago when he was quite literally a different man. He sighed as he released what he knew would, finally, be his last breath and in his minds eye pulled Ianto close whispering the lyrics he knew so well and that meant so much as he went forward into the darkness…
“Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.”
Characters/Pairings:- Jack/Ianto (past); Jack/OFC; Face of Boe, Hame
Rating:- Suitable for all
Word count:- 1437
Summary:- The Face of Boe shared his love of music with Hame and the people of the motorway but why did he teach them hymns from present day Earth?
Disclaimer:- Property of BBC, RTD and others, not me.
A/N:- Contains spoilers for DW 3.3 (Gridlock) and 3.13 (Last of the Time Lords).
I watched Gridlock recently and this popped into my head. It was harder to write than I expected and I'm still not 100% happy so comments gratefully received.
Many thanks to my beta for suggesting the title which is the name of the hymnal used in many schools and churches in the UK in the 1980s and 90s.
oOo
“A…a…abide w…ith me,” Tavik tentatively caressed the strings of the Sofik lute in her blue hands as she tried to follow the sheet music propped up on the table.
“Fa…a…a,” she sang softly, adjusting her long fingers on the lute, searching for the right note.
“Fast falls the e…e…eventide,” she continued, voice growing in confidence. “The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.”
“When other helpers fail and comforts flee,” she sang, hearing the swish of the automatic doors heralding Jack’s entrance into their spacious apartment.
“Help of the helpless, O abide with me,” she finished, smiling to herself as she pictured Jack standing in the doorway behind her in his long blue coat, specially made in zycon now rather than wool since sheep had become extinct but still holding on to the same look he had kept all the years of their relationship and, if Jack’s stories were to be believed, many, many years before.
“Jack, this music is fantastic, it’s so beautiful and haunting. Where did you get it?” she asked, turning to face her lover. She started slightly as she saw Jack’s face, his skin chalk white, mouth set in a thin line and his eyes hard as flint.
“Jack, I…I didn’t go rummaging in your stuff, the stasis field failed and I had to go into your office to switch off the alarm. When I switched it off the lid on the box opened and… I couldn’t resist… I’m sorry… I’ve only ever seen paper books in museums and a book of music…” she knew she was babbling but Tavik was well aware how closely Jack guarded his privacy. For all the stories he told, she knew very little about the man she shared her life with.
“Jack, I…” Tavik continued, still apologising, but coming closer she could see the tears coursing down Jack’s cheeks. Hurriedly, she dropped the lute on the sofa as she passed and gathered him into her arms.
“Jack, what’s wrong? What happened?” she asked as she settled Jack’s head in the hollow of her armpit (at approaching 3 metres tall Tavik was too tall for Jack to rest his head on her shoulder).
Jack muttered something into her armpit, the words smothered by the fabric of Tavik’s robe.
Unsure what Jack had said Tavik pulled back slightly.
“Pardon?” she asked, caressing his face lightly with her finger, wiping away the tears.
Jack sighed and looked up at his lover. Despite the restrictions of her hard carapace her face showed her concern.
“Look at the book,” Jack said, getting his emotions under control again. Tavik looked at him uncertainly but at Jack’s watery smile she reached out and scooped the book up from the table. She turned the book over in her hands looking for any indication of why the book had provoked such a reaction from Jack but she was not really sure what it was she was looking for.
Seeing Tavik’s continuing confusion Jack took the book from her hands and opened the front cover. Inside was a brightly coloured label, slightly blurred with age.
“Ah,” Tavik sighed, realisation dawning as she read the words printed on the label.
Presented to Ianto Jones
for perfect attendance at
morning service and music group.
Session 1998-99.
Brynglas Church, Newport.
Tavik looked at the book in wonder then, realising its age, replaced it, gently, almost reverently, on the table.
“Jack, I…”
“He played the piano,” Jack began, cutting across her, his voice so quiet it was almost as though he was talking to himself. “He played the organ in church too when he was a young man. Sang in the choir for a bit. His faith meant a lot to him, even after he joined Torchwood, seeing everything we saw…” Jack’s voice tailed off and he stood, nestled in Tavik’s arms, his emotions overtaking him once more.
Tavik sighed. She had heard many stories of Jack’s past, unsure which were true and which not, but the ones that moved her most were the ones of Ianto Jones - not Jack’s first love by any means but the first to knowingly take the immortal Jack Harkness to their heart without any conditions or agenda.
She held Jack for a long time listening to his broken breathing and the occasional sob.
“Hearing that music was like hearing his voice again,” Jack said eventually, his voice almost steady once more. “After all this time the book had become just a book, I’d almost forgotten what it contained, who it had belonged to,” he continued pushing himself out of Tavik’s embrace, his red, puffy eyes the only indicator of his emotional breakdown moments before.
“You loved him very much,” Tavik commented without rancour. She knew Jack had had many loves before her and would have many more loves after she was gone. It had taken time to accept but she was happy simply to have Jack for now. “This music was special to him so it is special to you too,” she continued. “But he wouldn’t have wanted you to keep the music hidden away, Jack. Music needs to be played, shared, enjoyed.” Tavik paused, unsure how Jack would respond to her idea. “Let me copy the music, transcribe it into today’s notation, arrange it for our instruments and we’ll host a concert, a memorial for a lost love. We can introduce people to this music before it gets lost for good - there’s only so many people that can read ancient music scores and the numbers go down each year.”
Jack looked into his lovers compound eyes and thought how different they were from Ianto’s blue ones and yet how like Ianto Tavik could be.
“Ianto would have liked that,” Jack replied, his voice cracking slightly on his long lost lovers name.
oOo
Millennia later Boe sat in his tank in the senate chamber of New New York and listened to the voices of the people trapped in their cars on the motorway as they were raised in song. Beside him Hame’s warm voice joined in the daily contemplation. The original meaning of the words was long lost now but the people took comfort in their shared activity, felt that little less alone and abandoned as they joined together in song.
During his long, so long, life he had loved many times but only a few made an impact like Ianto Jones. Boe had sighed when Hame had asked him, mere months after the highway had been sealed, about the song he had been humming to himself, the one that always reminded him of a certain young Welshman. So much time had passed Boe could hardly remember the sound of Ianto’s voice, the colour of his eyes but in the music, passed from person to person, he lived on.
“What is that music, my master? The music I hear in my head. It is so restful, calming. It makes me feel I can face whatever the future throws at me,” Hame had commented. Sighing, Boe had explained to her what little of the history of the music he could remember. A few days later, in a brief gap when all the systems were running smoothly, Hame had searched the New New York database and found an old recording of the ‘ancient’ music, part of one of Old Earth Christianity’s many revivals. Boe had not objected when she tentatively suggested sharing the peace and tranquillity the music inspired in her with the people of the motorway, and so the daily contemplation had begun.
When, years later, the Doctor finally came and freed the people from the confines of the motorway they, unprompted, raised their collective voices in tearful thanks that their ordeal was over and they were, at long last, free once more. Listening to the distant music, Boe shared his final secret with the Time Lord and allowed his thoughts to turn to the young man he had known so long ago when he was quite literally a different man. He sighed as he released what he knew would, finally, be his last breath and in his minds eye pulled Ianto close whispering the lyrics he knew so well and that meant so much as he went forward into the darkness…
“Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.”