Fic: A Song as Old as Time. (13/14)
Feeling decidedly rough tonight, but want to keep to posting schedule I've set myself, so here's part 13 (which is technically only about two thirds of part 13, but the rest will get put into 14 and posted about this time next Sunday.)
Title: A Song as Old as Time (13 of 14)
Pairing Jack/Ianto (eventually)
Word count: this part 2400 of total 32,000.
Rating: PG13
Summary: A chance visit to a bar and the unexpected arrival of an old acquaintance raises a lot questions for Jack and creates a dangerous situation for Ianto.
Notes: This is set during the first series after 1x06 Countrycide, but before 1x08 They Keep Killing Suzie.
part one part two part three part four part five
part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve
It doesn't take the Shipmother long to return, although from her expression she's less than happy with whatever answers Grell has given her.
“I would offer you some refreshments before we go, but there is little time, or so Grell tells me,” she says sadly. “I hope that there will be time afterwards, but I cannot be sure of that. There maybe other matter that require my attention.”
“I understand.” Jack's not sure what the Shipmother's role is when the head of one of the houses dies, but he guesses busy probably doesn't even begin to cover it. “So where are we going?”
“To the auditorium, it's where we hold everything legal or political.” There is fondness in her voice as she says, “It was Grell's idea to build it, to bring back something from our past. He doesn't like the idea of leaders making laws in secret. He says it's too easy for them to hide from blame if what they decide is wrong.”
Whether it actually works, Jack doesn't know. He suspects that however open a system appears there will always be people doing deals and pulling strings behind the scenes.
They follow the Shipmother down seemingly endless corridors. Which, when Jack has just about given up hope of them getting anywhere any time soon, end abruptly in an archway, the featureless metal walls giving way to a surface that, while not stone, has been coloured and textured to look like it.
"This is the main habitation level of the ship," the Shipmother says, as they walk under the arch and into what could easily be a Devor colony world.
"It's like a city," Ianto says looking around. "The ship must be enormous."
Jack has to agree. The roof, which is probably the best part of a hundred feet above their heads, is supported by just a few columns helping to give the impression that they are outside. It has even been lit to look like a blue sky on a sunny day. While around them the paved streets lined with traditional hexagonal Devor courtyard houses complete with trees and gardens.
It's also quiet, almost eerily so, and looking around Jack can't see any sign of people who live here.
"You think something is wrong, don't you?" Ianto says, moving a little close to him.
Before Jack can answer, the Shipmother says, "They are all at the auditorium. Today was declared a national free day, so that everybody who wanted to attend could."
"There are that many people who to see someone die?" Ianto asks, sounding appalled at the idea that death might be seen as entertainment here.
"It's the first in nearly thirty years. There's some grim curiosity to it. For myself I'd rather not be present," she says sadly. "However my role means there is little choice. The children will have questions, and I cannot give answers, nor talk with authority on something I have not seen."
“I suppose that's something,” Ianto says quietly.
Jack gives him a questioning look.
“That there won't be children there. Children shouldn't have to see somebody die.”
“You don't have to be there either, you know that?” Jack says, stopping and taking hold of Ianto's arm, hating the haunted look in his eyes. “I'm not going to think any less of you for not wanting to watch.”
“It's because of me that Vron is there,” Ianto says, looking at Jack's hand on his arm. “I need to do this. Do you understand, don't you?”
“Yes.” Jack wishes in a way that he didn't, another part of him is proud that Ianto is willing to see this through to the end. It's this attitude that he knows will one day Ianto make a good leader, one better than himself. He see the bigger picture, but he never forgets the people who's sacrifices make it possible.
The auditorium where the execution is to be held is a bowl shaped structure cut into an artificial hillside, the weathered looking sandy coloured stone giving at look of age and permanency.
Projection screens have been hung on the exterior, all the seats inside already filled, so the space around the building is crowded with Devor all taking at once.
They move aside as the Shipmother approaches letting them through and into the structure.
“Grell will be here soon,” the Shipmother says, stopping at an archway that leads out into the large open space in the centre of the auditorium. “You wait here for him. Ianto, you can sit with me. I will do my best to explain what is going on.”
Jack hates the idea of leaving Ianto alone in this strange place, but he knows can hardly take Ianto with him. Having him stand right next to him as Vron is killed would be nearly as bad getting him to do it himself.
“If you feels like it's getting to much I want you to get out of there, right?” Jack says, catching hold of Ianto hand as he turns to leave.
“I will if I can.”
It's not really the reassurance that Jack wants, but he knows that he's going to have to do, and the he somewhat reluctantly lets go of his hand.
He watches them until they are lost in the crowd.
Through the archway, Jack can see Vron. Flanked by two armed guards and bound hand and foot, he is kneeling on a raised stone platform in the centre of the auditorium. There are traces of blood on the tattered frills around his neck and one eye nearly swollen shut, and Jack tries to recall whether those injuries had been caused when Ianto tackled him to the ground or if Vron's questioning has taken a more physical form.
He's not sure, not that it makes any difference, he can't change it. Turning away, leans again the wall. He just wants this to be over as quickly as possible and for Ianto and himself to be on their way.
Jack doesn't have to wait long. As Grell, flanked by two guards, join him at the entrance of the auditorium just a few moment later.
The Sto designed business suit is gone, replaced by the ceremonial armour and cloak of the leader of one of the major houses of the Devor. He clutches the staff tightly, leaning on it for support, and Jack has to wonder whether Grell will manage to stay on his feet long enough to carry out the sentencing.
“Are you ready?” Grell asks as he stops next to Jack.
“As I'll every be.” It's not exactly lie, but the truth, that's he hates to have to do this is something that he knows that Grell neither wants and needs to hear. “You want a hand getting out there?”
“No. I must show no weakness in front of them. You follow a step or two behind,” Grell says, and then without waiting to see if Jack is going to follow makes his way out into the open space.
The chatter that had filled the enormous space grows louder for a moment as Grell appears, before dying away as he ponderously makes his way up the few steps to stand on the platform next to Vron.
One of Vron's guards fixes a microphone to the top of Grell's cloak, then steps back to allow him to address the audience.
“This will be my last speech to you as head of this House, my last speech to any of you. It has been an honour to lead you, and I am sure the peace and prosperity that you have worked so hard for will continue without me. That the new laws we created together for the good of us all will stand long after my death. That my legacy as leader will be one of peace.
So my last message to you is this. Be proud of your parts in this great endeavour, tell it to your children and they will tell it to theirs in turn. Immortality our names through our deeds is a shared heritage amongst all the Houses, and you will surely take your places in history as the generations that made the Devor great once more.”
Jack has to admit, even when drugged and in pain, Grell is still a good speaker.
“You see this death today.” Grell gestures at Vron, who hasn't moved or made any effort to speak. “Do not glory it in, see it for the horror that it is, but know that had he succeeded he would have brought down deaths in far greater number upon us all.”
Grell wait a moment for his words to sink in with the crowd before continuing. “He broke the treaty of non-aggression treaty on Aphelion, and but for the quick actions this human.” He turns and looks at Jack. “And his companion, I would already be dead, and it would surely have been discovered by authorities on Aphelion.”
“This is the same man who saved my life and many others of this house after the attack on Telemer. He returned today to collect the life debt I owed him. He chose freely to write of that life debt in exchange for the monies owed by a friend. He is a good man. He is as most humans are. Never forget his.”
Grell turns slowly around, looking at crowds, gauging their reaction, before continuing. “Many of you remember the dark days after Telemer, when due to the indiscriminate vengeance we sort we were forced to withdraw from our colony worlds. Our ships became overcrowded slums, disease and violences were our constant companions. We became a pariah nation, turned away from worlds. Yet we over came this. But he.” Grell points at Vron, his hand shaking with the effort of remaining on his feet. “He would have destroyed a whole generation of work, your work, because he believes in vengeance again those who are long dead and gone.”
Jack can see Grell starting to struggle from the effort of giving the speech, the dressing on his neck increasingly blood stained. Moving a little closer to him, Jack readies himself to catch him if he starts to fall.
“Our house, and many others, has long had the saying that vengeance is a song as old as time, that blood calls out for blood. I say no more. Now is the time to begin a new song. One of hope and of peace. Let us sing is loud enough that all the houses hear and heed it. ”
The Devor are silent for a moment, then clapping starts, slow at first but rapidly growing until nearly everyone in the auditorium is on their feet applauding.
Grell raises his staff with some effort, signalling to them that he wishes them to be quiet once more.
“Let his death draw a line under the past, and serve as warning to those who would destroy our future.”
Grell dips his head slightly in the direction of the council of elders.
They return the nod and raise their ceremonial staffs, before bringing them back to the floor. The metal shod ends of staffs strike stones, the rhythm building faster and louder until it's almost a single continuous beat. Then suddenly it stops and everything is silent, an expectant, breathless hush falling over all assembled.
“Now,” Grell rasps under his breath, pushing one of the handles attached to the wire around Vron's neck into Jack's hand. “Pull it.”
Closing his eyes, Jack pulls hard on the handle.
The fine, razor sharp wire cuts through Vron's neck with almost no effort and he dies without a sound.
Jack can feel the warm rush of blood onto his hands and he swallows hard, feeling sick.
There's relief that there's no cheer from the crowds, just a hushed, stunned silence of those unaccustomed to such a death. The relief though is rapidly replaced with concern as he realises that Ianto is somewhere amongst that shocked and silent crowd.
Opening his eyes, Jack looks around, seeking him out. He's almost convinced himself that Ianto has already left, when he finally sees him.
Stood with the Shipmother, just to the side of the section of seating reserved for the Elders, Ianto stares down at him, eyes wide and face pale.
Before Jack can ask if he can leave, Grell sways on his feet, his staff clattering off the edge of the platform.
One of the guards catches Grell, helping him to sit down.
Looking up at Jack, he takes a wheezing breath, as one of the guards tries mostly unsuccessfully to stem the grow stream of blood down his neck.“You can do no more here, but I thank you for all you have done. Now go, and go luck go with you.”
Jack doesn't need to be told twice. Taking the steps down from the platform two at a time, he hurries back towards the archway, determined to find Ianto before the shocked and saddened atmosphere of the place can get to him.
Pushing through the crowd, ignoring the shouts of surprise and annoyance, Jack makes his way over to where he'd last see him.
When he finally gets there the seats are empty. Feeling rather more panicked about this than he knows is reasonable, given that he'd told Ianto to get out if it was getting too much, Jack looks wildly around, before calling out, “Ianto! Ianto, where are you, are you still here?”
Two of the Elders remain in their seats, the rest already making there way down to where Grell is sitting on the edge of the central platform, the guard still keeping pressure on the wound.
Looking rather put out by Jack's intrusion, they point disdainfully toward the exit.
Hoping that they mean Ianto and the Shipmother have gone outside, rather than that they just want him to leave, Jack smiles at them then hurries away.
Part fourteen: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/179828.html
Title: A Song as Old as Time (13 of 14)
Pairing Jack/Ianto (eventually)
Word count: this part 2400 of total 32,000.
Rating: PG13
Summary: A chance visit to a bar and the unexpected arrival of an old acquaintance raises a lot questions for Jack and creates a dangerous situation for Ianto.
Notes: This is set during the first series after 1x06 Countrycide, but before 1x08 They Keep Killing Suzie.
part one part two part three part four part five
part six part seven part eight part nine part ten part eleven part twelve
It doesn't take the Shipmother long to return, although from her expression she's less than happy with whatever answers Grell has given her.
“I would offer you some refreshments before we go, but there is little time, or so Grell tells me,” she says sadly. “I hope that there will be time afterwards, but I cannot be sure of that. There maybe other matter that require my attention.”
“I understand.” Jack's not sure what the Shipmother's role is when the head of one of the houses dies, but he guesses busy probably doesn't even begin to cover it. “So where are we going?”
“To the auditorium, it's where we hold everything legal or political.” There is fondness in her voice as she says, “It was Grell's idea to build it, to bring back something from our past. He doesn't like the idea of leaders making laws in secret. He says it's too easy for them to hide from blame if what they decide is wrong.”
Whether it actually works, Jack doesn't know. He suspects that however open a system appears there will always be people doing deals and pulling strings behind the scenes.
They follow the Shipmother down seemingly endless corridors. Which, when Jack has just about given up hope of them getting anywhere any time soon, end abruptly in an archway, the featureless metal walls giving way to a surface that, while not stone, has been coloured and textured to look like it.
"This is the main habitation level of the ship," the Shipmother says, as they walk under the arch and into what could easily be a Devor colony world.
"It's like a city," Ianto says looking around. "The ship must be enormous."
Jack has to agree. The roof, which is probably the best part of a hundred feet above their heads, is supported by just a few columns helping to give the impression that they are outside. It has even been lit to look like a blue sky on a sunny day. While around them the paved streets lined with traditional hexagonal Devor courtyard houses complete with trees and gardens.
It's also quiet, almost eerily so, and looking around Jack can't see any sign of people who live here.
"You think something is wrong, don't you?" Ianto says, moving a little close to him.
Before Jack can answer, the Shipmother says, "They are all at the auditorium. Today was declared a national free day, so that everybody who wanted to attend could."
"There are that many people who to see someone die?" Ianto asks, sounding appalled at the idea that death might be seen as entertainment here.
"It's the first in nearly thirty years. There's some grim curiosity to it. For myself I'd rather not be present," she says sadly. "However my role means there is little choice. The children will have questions, and I cannot give answers, nor talk with authority on something I have not seen."
“I suppose that's something,” Ianto says quietly.
Jack gives him a questioning look.
“That there won't be children there. Children shouldn't have to see somebody die.”
“You don't have to be there either, you know that?” Jack says, stopping and taking hold of Ianto's arm, hating the haunted look in his eyes. “I'm not going to think any less of you for not wanting to watch.”
“It's because of me that Vron is there,” Ianto says, looking at Jack's hand on his arm. “I need to do this. Do you understand, don't you?”
“Yes.” Jack wishes in a way that he didn't, another part of him is proud that Ianto is willing to see this through to the end. It's this attitude that he knows will one day Ianto make a good leader, one better than himself. He see the bigger picture, but he never forgets the people who's sacrifices make it possible.
The auditorium where the execution is to be held is a bowl shaped structure cut into an artificial hillside, the weathered looking sandy coloured stone giving at look of age and permanency.
Projection screens have been hung on the exterior, all the seats inside already filled, so the space around the building is crowded with Devor all taking at once.
They move aside as the Shipmother approaches letting them through and into the structure.
“Grell will be here soon,” the Shipmother says, stopping at an archway that leads out into the large open space in the centre of the auditorium. “You wait here for him. Ianto, you can sit with me. I will do my best to explain what is going on.”
Jack hates the idea of leaving Ianto alone in this strange place, but he knows can hardly take Ianto with him. Having him stand right next to him as Vron is killed would be nearly as bad getting him to do it himself.
“If you feels like it's getting to much I want you to get out of there, right?” Jack says, catching hold of Ianto hand as he turns to leave.
“I will if I can.”
It's not really the reassurance that Jack wants, but he knows that he's going to have to do, and the he somewhat reluctantly lets go of his hand.
He watches them until they are lost in the crowd.
Through the archway, Jack can see Vron. Flanked by two armed guards and bound hand and foot, he is kneeling on a raised stone platform in the centre of the auditorium. There are traces of blood on the tattered frills around his neck and one eye nearly swollen shut, and Jack tries to recall whether those injuries had been caused when Ianto tackled him to the ground or if Vron's questioning has taken a more physical form.
He's not sure, not that it makes any difference, he can't change it. Turning away, leans again the wall. He just wants this to be over as quickly as possible and for Ianto and himself to be on their way.
Jack doesn't have to wait long. As Grell, flanked by two guards, join him at the entrance of the auditorium just a few moment later.
The Sto designed business suit is gone, replaced by the ceremonial armour and cloak of the leader of one of the major houses of the Devor. He clutches the staff tightly, leaning on it for support, and Jack has to wonder whether Grell will manage to stay on his feet long enough to carry out the sentencing.
“Are you ready?” Grell asks as he stops next to Jack.
“As I'll every be.” It's not exactly lie, but the truth, that's he hates to have to do this is something that he knows that Grell neither wants and needs to hear. “You want a hand getting out there?”
“No. I must show no weakness in front of them. You follow a step or two behind,” Grell says, and then without waiting to see if Jack is going to follow makes his way out into the open space.
The chatter that had filled the enormous space grows louder for a moment as Grell appears, before dying away as he ponderously makes his way up the few steps to stand on the platform next to Vron.
One of Vron's guards fixes a microphone to the top of Grell's cloak, then steps back to allow him to address the audience.
“This will be my last speech to you as head of this House, my last speech to any of you. It has been an honour to lead you, and I am sure the peace and prosperity that you have worked so hard for will continue without me. That the new laws we created together for the good of us all will stand long after my death. That my legacy as leader will be one of peace.
So my last message to you is this. Be proud of your parts in this great endeavour, tell it to your children and they will tell it to theirs in turn. Immortality our names through our deeds is a shared heritage amongst all the Houses, and you will surely take your places in history as the generations that made the Devor great once more.”
Jack has to admit, even when drugged and in pain, Grell is still a good speaker.
“You see this death today.” Grell gestures at Vron, who hasn't moved or made any effort to speak. “Do not glory it in, see it for the horror that it is, but know that had he succeeded he would have brought down deaths in far greater number upon us all.”
Grell wait a moment for his words to sink in with the crowd before continuing. “He broke the treaty of non-aggression treaty on Aphelion, and but for the quick actions this human.” He turns and looks at Jack. “And his companion, I would already be dead, and it would surely have been discovered by authorities on Aphelion.”
“This is the same man who saved my life and many others of this house after the attack on Telemer. He returned today to collect the life debt I owed him. He chose freely to write of that life debt in exchange for the monies owed by a friend. He is a good man. He is as most humans are. Never forget his.”
Grell turns slowly around, looking at crowds, gauging their reaction, before continuing. “Many of you remember the dark days after Telemer, when due to the indiscriminate vengeance we sort we were forced to withdraw from our colony worlds. Our ships became overcrowded slums, disease and violences were our constant companions. We became a pariah nation, turned away from worlds. Yet we over came this. But he.” Grell points at Vron, his hand shaking with the effort of remaining on his feet. “He would have destroyed a whole generation of work, your work, because he believes in vengeance again those who are long dead and gone.”
Jack can see Grell starting to struggle from the effort of giving the speech, the dressing on his neck increasingly blood stained. Moving a little closer to him, Jack readies himself to catch him if he starts to fall.
“Our house, and many others, has long had the saying that vengeance is a song as old as time, that blood calls out for blood. I say no more. Now is the time to begin a new song. One of hope and of peace. Let us sing is loud enough that all the houses hear and heed it. ”
The Devor are silent for a moment, then clapping starts, slow at first but rapidly growing until nearly everyone in the auditorium is on their feet applauding.
Grell raises his staff with some effort, signalling to them that he wishes them to be quiet once more.
“Let his death draw a line under the past, and serve as warning to those who would destroy our future.”
Grell dips his head slightly in the direction of the council of elders.
They return the nod and raise their ceremonial staffs, before bringing them back to the floor. The metal shod ends of staffs strike stones, the rhythm building faster and louder until it's almost a single continuous beat. Then suddenly it stops and everything is silent, an expectant, breathless hush falling over all assembled.
“Now,” Grell rasps under his breath, pushing one of the handles attached to the wire around Vron's neck into Jack's hand. “Pull it.”
Closing his eyes, Jack pulls hard on the handle.
The fine, razor sharp wire cuts through Vron's neck with almost no effort and he dies without a sound.
Jack can feel the warm rush of blood onto his hands and he swallows hard, feeling sick.
There's relief that there's no cheer from the crowds, just a hushed, stunned silence of those unaccustomed to such a death. The relief though is rapidly replaced with concern as he realises that Ianto is somewhere amongst that shocked and silent crowd.
Opening his eyes, Jack looks around, seeking him out. He's almost convinced himself that Ianto has already left, when he finally sees him.
Stood with the Shipmother, just to the side of the section of seating reserved for the Elders, Ianto stares down at him, eyes wide and face pale.
Before Jack can ask if he can leave, Grell sways on his feet, his staff clattering off the edge of the platform.
One of the guards catches Grell, helping him to sit down.
Looking up at Jack, he takes a wheezing breath, as one of the guards tries mostly unsuccessfully to stem the grow stream of blood down his neck.“You can do no more here, but I thank you for all you have done. Now go, and go luck go with you.”
Jack doesn't need to be told twice. Taking the steps down from the platform two at a time, he hurries back towards the archway, determined to find Ianto before the shocked and saddened atmosphere of the place can get to him.
Pushing through the crowd, ignoring the shouts of surprise and annoyance, Jack makes his way over to where he'd last see him.
When he finally gets there the seats are empty. Feeling rather more panicked about this than he knows is reasonable, given that he'd told Ianto to get out if it was getting too much, Jack looks wildly around, before calling out, “Ianto! Ianto, where are you, are you still here?”
Two of the Elders remain in their seats, the rest already making there way down to where Grell is sitting on the edge of the central platform, the guard still keeping pressure on the wound.
Looking rather put out by Jack's intrusion, they point disdainfully toward the exit.
Hoping that they mean Ianto and the Shipmother have gone outside, rather than that they just want him to leave, Jack smiles at them then hurries away.
Part fourteen: http://the-silver-sun.livejournal.com/179828.html