The Torchwood - 3/10
Chapter 3
“Duw. cei at bod kidding 'm.” Ianto muttered, shaking his head. The man calling himself ‘The Doctor’ stared at him for a moment.
“Um, in the interest of complete disclosure, the TARDIS translates all languages for me. Gets in my head a bit, see? So that little bit of sarcasm right there? Yeah, I understood that,” he said sheepishly.
“Right. Ok.” Ianto turned his head away for a moment. Here he was, stranded God-knows-where, with a stomach wound, next to the man Jack left him for, only to find out that he can’t even swear without the high-and-mighty Doctor knowing. And to top it all off, Ianto could just feel his ears turning red.
“Oh no! No need to be embarrassed! Honest! Sarcasm is good! Lowest form of wit and all that, but I’m sure it suits you!” The Doctor said quickly, trying to put Ianto at ease. “Not that you have a low wit. I’m sure you’re very witty. The wittiest person here I bet. Well, besides me. Oh. Sorry. That was rude. I’m a bit rude sometimes. Wish I was ginger, though.”
Ianto just stared at the Doctor for a moment, trying to figure out what part of his head the guards had obviously hit to have caused such a ramble. Just as he was trying to decide whether he had been insulted or complemented, his stomach wound decided to make itself known with an intense blast of pain up his left side and down his left arm. It felt as if his entire side was on fire. He bent over, trying to press his arm against the wound in a vain attempt to stop the pain, and could feel the sweat starting to bubble on his forehead and slide down past his tightly closed eyes.
“Ianto? Ianto, what’s wrong? Are you ok? What is it?” the Doctor asked. He was concerned that the only answer Ianto could give was a low moan of pain. That’s when he noticed the gauze with the dried blood on the edges.
“Ok, Ianto, listen to me. I’m going to help, ok? Just trust me on this.” At that, the Doctor splayed his hands lightly on the sides of Ianto’s face, and lifted his head so that their eyes met. He wasn’t surprised to see the obvious pain in the young man’s eyes, but was struck by its intensity. If he was in that much pain, he should have passed out by now.
The Doctor closed his eyes and softly entered Ianto’s mind, seeking the pain receptors. He felt around for Ianto’s neurotransmitters, slowing those responsible for producing pain and quickening the production of endorphins. He caught the hint of something else, something familiar, but didn’t have time to investigate. Besides, his mother had always taught him it was rude to wander around in someone’s head without their permission. He’d been rude enough already. Maybe tomorrow he’d take a peek.
“There we go,” he said, smiling softly as Ianto’s face cleared and his eyes opened. again “My people had a few tricks. I’m my own handy-dandy anesthetist. Hope it helped. It won’t last forever, but it should keep the worst of the pain at bay.”
“Thanks,” Ianto gasped.
The Doctor nodded sagely. “Now, Jones, Ianto Jones, tell me what you’re doing here. Not that I mind the company, far better than that time I was arrested on Braxatilius. How was I supposed to know they considered the banana a sacred fruit? I mean, there Rose and I were minding our own business and --”
“I’m not entirely sure why I’m here. I was out running errands and someone clocked me over the head and stabbed me. They never said why Sir.” Ianto replied, cutting off the Doctor’s Braxatilian story. He’d heard it before from Jack. The places that man manages to hide weapons still astounds him. And he could never look at a banana the same way again.
“Ooooh Sir. Well aren’t we a polite thing? I like it. I haven’t been called Sir since my fifth regeneration. Was made president of my people you know…” At that, Ianto gave one of his patented eyebrow lifts, entirely unconvinced that the skinny being in front of him had ever been president of a city council, much less an entire people.
“Right, so where are we and what happened to you?” Ianto asked.
“Well, see it’s a bit of a long story. Well, long-ish. Well, not so long, I guess. Especially if you look at the grand scheme of time. Then nothing’s long…Anyway, I had just finished saving Queen Liz from the Titanic. Don’t give me that look, it’s true. I’m sure you heard about it. Great big space-Titanic on a collision course for Britain. Very aptly named. I dropped off Mr. Copper, nice man but a bit odd you know, and was sailing the TARDIS through the Medusa Cascade. Next thing I know, the TARDIS’ Cloister Bell is going off and I’m surrounded by a Transmat beam. Last time that happened…well…It didn’t go so well, let’s just leave it at that.”
“And the Transmat beam brought you here. Which would be…?” Ianto asked.
“Don’t know. We were moving before, so it must be a ship. Or a planet. I was on a moving planet once, Calufrax. Nice place. Lots of jewels. But we’ve stopped now. Listen - you can hear the engines but not the propulsion systems, right?” As the Doctor put his ear down to the floor and motioned for his new companion to do the same, Ianto gave him another eyebrow lift. If the Doctor kept this up, he’d be in danger of permanently attaching his eyebrow to his hairline. “Don’t know where we stopped, but if you’re here it must be Earth. And in the 21st Century. Unless Jack’s contagious, that is, and you’re immortal too. You’re not, though, right? There’s enough wrongness in Jack without having another one too.” The Doctor raised his own eyebrow suspiciously.
“No, Jack is certainly not contagious. And what do you mean wrong?” Ianto demanded.
The Doctor airily waved his hand, “Story for another time.” He suddenly looked serious as he frowned. “Now listen, Ianto. I don’t know why she brought you here, but it must have been to get to Jack. I’ll protect you if I can, but whatever happens, she can’t get Jack, ok? That’s paramount. She already took my DNA, but if she gets Jack, we’ll never stop him.”
“First of all,” Ianto said angrily, “Cannibals not withstanding, I haven’t needed someone to protect me since I was seven and got beaten up by my cousin for running the wrong way down a rugby pitch. Second, who are ‘she’ and ‘him’? Third, what do they want with Jack, and why did they take your DNA?”
The Doctor looked at Ianto forlornly. Suddenly it was as if centuries were added to his face. The Doctor bent slightly, shook his head and said softly, “’She’ is Lucy Saxon. ‘He’ is the Master, but you knew him as Harold Saxon. And Jack is their way of making sure that the Master never dies again.”
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“You know, you’re taking this all rather well,” the Doctor commented as he watched Ianto covertly out of the corner of his eye. The Doctor had helped Ianto so that both he and the young man were leaning up against another wall, but now the young man wasn’t looking so well. He had started to sweat lightly again, and his pale cheeks had a feverish tint.
“Yeah, well, it’s the price of working for Torchwood, I suppose. Try unleashing a horned destroyer of worlds on Cardiff then tell me you aren’t a little bit more accepting,” Ianto answered sarcastically. “Ok. Let me see if I understand this. The late Prime Minister Saxon was a Time Lord in disguise. He went to the end of the universe, recruited the last remaining humans, took over the world, and held you and Jack hostage. Martha Jones traveled the world, and with the help of some handy telepathic satellites, the whole world ‘thought’ you back into existence. Mrs. Saxon apparently shot and killed her husband. But he didn’t trust her to start with, and so trapped a bit of his essence in his ring, using his telepathy to drive her to reclaim it. Once she put it on, his mind latched onto hers and he is now somehow controlling her from beyond the grave. Though, technically very little of this ever actually happened because you destroyed the Paradox Machine.”
“Exactly,” the Doctor nodded solemly. Ianto looked up at the ceiling, begging whichever deity was listening for some sort of strength. “The Master did something like this once before, mind. Trapped himself in the box containing his ashes. I wound up in a morgue in San Francisco. Nice place. The city, not the morgue.”
“Ok. And what does Jack have to do with it?” Ianto asked.
“Well, see, the Master needs my DNA to help create another body. Last time he could get his own DNA from his ashes. But because it’s not his DNA this time, he won’t be able to regenerate. Permanent death eventually. But if he’s able to extract the Time Vortex from inside Jack, he could use it to become like Jack, but would wind up killing Jack in the process. Permanently”
“Ok. So your dead schoolmate, who essentially singlehandedly enslaved the human race, is controlling his ex-wife telepathically and wants Jack’s Time Vortex to become immortal. And you have absolutely no plan whatsoever. Oh yeah, this is gonna go real well.”
With that last statement hanging between them, the doors to the cell opened to reveal a coldly beautiful young woman with blond hair and pale eyes. Her red dress clung evocatively to her slim frame, but as she crossed the threshold, she walked with the heavy steps of a man. She was surrounded by guards of various sizes, all dressed in the same black fatigues.
“Why is it always black? What is this, a comic book?” Ianto muttered.
“Again with the sarcasm. Probably not best to bait the woman at the moment, Ianto. She could order your death you know. And you don’t regenerate. Let me do the baiting,” the Doctor said sternly. His eyes, however, lit up at Ianto’s attempt at humor. He was an interesting young man, no doubt. Anyone else either would have called the Doctor crazy or sat in the corner sobbing his eyes out. Maybe he’d like to travel with me if we survive this, the Doctor thought. I could use a cool head.
“You are Ianto Jones?” Lucy asked, though it was said as more of a statement. “You will answer yes or no to all questions.”
“I’m Ianto Jones. How may I help you, Mrs. Saxon?” Ianto responded politely. He noticed that for a moment, her face seemed to lighten, but then again, the entire room was moving in Ianto’s eyes so it could have simply been the blood loss or slight fever.
Lucy looked at him pleadingly. “I’m sorry Ianto. Please believe me. I don’t want to do this! I don’t have a choice! He’s always there, in my mind, telling me things. He won’t go away. Him and the drums! I have to help him to make him go away!” Lucy sobbed.
“I’m so sorry Lucy. Please, let me help you. I can help you get rid of him, I promise,” the Doctor said desperately.
Suddenly Lucy’s face turned hard and cruel. “You’d like that, eh Doctor? Like to finally get rid of me? Or maybe you just want me all to yourself? Always a greedy one, you. Well, not gonna happen.”
“Master? Listen, if that’s you, just let the boy go. He’s of no use to you!” the Doctor shouted.
“He is everything to me. He is the downfall of Jack Harkness. He is the key to my rebirth.”-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Translation: Duw. cei at bod kidding 'm = roughly, 'God. You have to be kidding me!"