TW/DW Fic: A Seat in the Corner (1/1)
Oct. 11th, 2010 11:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lizzledpinkTitle: A Seat in the Corner
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lizzledpink
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4577
Pairings/Characters: Ianto, the Doctor (mentioned Jack/Ianto, Jack/Doctor, Jack/others)
Summary: Just because Jack worships the Doctor, doesn’t mean everybody should. Ianto proves his point.
A/N: For choccy_grl, whose incredibly brilliant story sparked my anti-Doctor soapbox. I love him, really, I do, but… /pulls out hair/ So, Ianto gets to be AWESOME and rant for me! Hooray! Also, Doctor the Tenth has an imaginary non-existent generic companion. That is all.
Beta: Unbeta’d; I’m impatient today. Again. PLEASE let me know if you see any mistakes, particularly if I slip into a different tense – it got away from me here and there. EDIT: Thank youlawford ; alt_universe_me !
Disclaimer: I don't own, I don't make money, etc.
:::
A Seat in the Corner
(or, in which Ianto Jones scares the shit out of the Doctor)
“Torchwood!” The Doctor announces, stepping out of his blue box with a wide smile and an all-encompassing twirl of his arm.
Something hits his temple, soundly, knocking him out in an instant. The TARDIS doors close themselves, and, if you listen carefully, you might hear the sound of a young woman yelling “Doctor! Oh, what has he done now” or something along those lines.
What you will not hear, because he has all the finesse of a ninja-teaboy, is Ianto Jones, putting down his hockey stick and frowning, hands on hips, at the Doctor’s unconscious form.
Jack’s still at that meeting with UNIT. Gwen is out with Rhys.
They shouldn’t be back for hours.
A smile, surprising in its cruelty, sneaks up on his face like a surprise birthday party.
:::
When the Doctor came to, he groaned. Somebody walloped him good, he thought, shaking his head to try and clear it.
A prison cell. Oh, wonderful. Well, nothing a bit of…
They took off his coat, and everything else with pockets. Meaning, no sonic screwdriver. This might actually be trouble.
Frowning, the Doctor sat up, rubbing his head. Where was he anyway? One moment he and his companion were in the Time Vortex. Then after that Time Storm… Ah, he’d taken the TARDIS back to Cardiff for some refueling. He thought he might drop in on Jack for a change, but instead it seemed Jack, or somebody, had gotten the drop on him.
Ha. Pun.
But more importantly, that meant this was Torchwood. Had he gotten the timing wrong, perhaps? He was certain this was some time after the Earth was stolen… So this Torchwood knew him, right? Well, that explained how they knew about the pockets. Smarter than Hartman, at least. But they should also know Jack, and they should especially know that he’s not going to destroy the planet, thank you very much, and there’s no reason to imprison him.
Nothing matched up. What was going on here?
“Where am I?” he asked aloud. Never hurt to ask.
“Torchwood Three, Cardiff, 2009,” a voice replied, somewhere on the other side of the glass. It was familiar, but the Doctor couldn’t quite place it.
“Well, that settles one question. But really, a cell? Isn’t Jack in charge here? I’m a friend of his. Not a threat to the welfare of humanity in the least!”
“I know, Doctor. I never said you were.”
“So what’s with the hospitality, then? Come on, just between you and me?” The Doctor grinned at the camera in the corner of the cell.
A young man stepped into view just outside the glass, and leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a distinguished suit, even a waistcoat, and looked properly Welsh.
“Wait – wait, I know this one… Oh! Yes, Ianto Jones! You’re one of Jack’s people!” The Doctor said, smiling.
Ianto didn’t smile back. “One of Jack’s people?” he asked softly.
“Of course! His team back in Cardiff. Good to see you! I’m glad you survived the Daleks and all.”
“It’s nice to hear your concern for me runs so deep,” Ianto quipped. “So, what do you know about me?”
“Sorry?”
“Me. You said you’re Jack’s friend, didn’t you? So what do you know about me? Or at least, about Gwen Cooper? Owen Harper, or maybe Toshiko Sato-”
“Doctor Sato? Lovely woman. Met her once over that space-pig business – oh, that was a messy day, that was. I met Harriet Jones that day, I did,” the Doctor chirped.
Ianto’s face remained completely still, but for the raising of a single eyebrow. “Please, Doctor. Answer the question.”
“Oh, alright then. Ianto Jones – you’re the archivist for Torchwood Three, and from what I hear, pretty good with a stun gun,” he said, smiling.
“And?”
“And… Okay, so perhaps I don’t know all that much. Nice to properly meet you, though. Now, about this cell, it’d be nice if I could be released?” The Doctor smiled hopefully.
Ianto shrugged himself away from the glass, standing upright, and looked the Doctor in the eye. “I could release you,” he admitted quietly. “I could let you in your TARDIS – by the way, it’s completely safe, and your companion’s fine, too – I think she’s out shopping, actually. I really need to nick some of your psychic paper. Useful stuff. But that’s not the point, Doctor. I’m keeping you here, at least for a day and probably longer.”
The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. For the first time he was feeling a bit… anxious. “Jack won’t let you keep me here,” he said eventually.
“He wouldn’t,” Ianto agreed, “But Jack doesn’t need to know. We’re in the lower prison cells. Torchwood hasn’t needed to use them since 1937. Bit of a mix-up with some time-traveling Venusians, as I understand it. They haven’t been used in years, and I’m not even sure Jack knows about them. If he does, he never bothers with them. There isn’t even any CCTV down here. Just you, me, and this cell for as long as it takes.” Ianto smiled suddenly, giving the Doctor the impression there was an in-joke somewhere around those words.
“As long as it takes for what?”
“For you to understand,” Ianto said, smiling. It wasn’t a frightening smile on its own. Actually, the smile was rather cordial. Polite. Perfectly kind. And for some reason, the Doctor mused, that made it far, far more terrifying.
“What am I understanding, exactly?”
Ianto tilted his head to the side, his clear blue eyes capturing the Doctor’s perfectly. Then Ianto shook his head and walked off, leaving the Doctor alone.
And he didn’t even have his yo-yo for amusement.
:::
A few hours passed, and eventually, not even reciting pi could entertain him.
“Okay, you’ve done it. I was mad before, but now, you have driven me insane!” The Doctor said, spinning around in a circle. “Who knew? All it took was stone-cold boredom! Ha!”
“Glad you’re amused.” The Doctor immediately snapped to attention. Once again Ianto had snuck up on him. This time, Ianto had brought a simple three-legged stool with him, and he was sitting on it, his fingers steepled in wait.
“Hello, Ianto Jones,” the Doctor said quietly.
“Hello, Doctor. So, would you like to hear an explanation now?”
The Doctor sat on the bench in the cell room, mimicking Ianto’s relaxed position.
“Good. Listen carefully. This isn’t imprisonment, exactly,” Ianto said carefully. “It’s more like… More like a time-out.”
“Time-out – you mean like parents to do children when-”
“Yes, Doctor, that is precisely what I mean.”
The Time Lord gaped.
“Now, don’t look at me like that. You’ve needed a time-out for a long, long time, I think. Though I’ll admit that time is a rather fluid thing. You’ve needed it since your regeneration, perhaps. Or, in another sense, you’ve needed it for centuries. But this is a time-out, Doctor, because you need to be punished.”
And the Doctor realized suddenly why Ianto Jones, such a seemingly harmless, innocent youth, terrified him so. He wasn’t afraid. Time Lord was just a species to him, another kind of person. Not a legend. An enemy. Torchwood, he thought, exasperated.
“No, it’s not because of Torchwood. Her Majesty Queen Victoria was not wrong about your… high-handed methods of dealing with people. But this has nothing to do with Torchwood.”
But – but no human could read a Time Lord’s mind -
“I don’t need to read your mind, Doctor, just your face.” Ianto rolled his eyes. “Do you even realize how expressive you are? Besides, in many ways, you’re exactly like Jack.”
“I am not-”
“You are. You really are. And that’s why I can read you so well. You and he are exactly alike, Doctor, and the sooner you admit that to yourself, the better.”
The Doctor wasn’t sure what to say to this. Ianto sighed, and looked at the ceiling. “I know you can’t tell, but it’s nighttime, now. I’ll be back in the morning.” He looked at the Doctor, frowning. “Do you sleep?”
“Not really.”
“By not really, do you mean you don’t actually sleep because of your biology, or do you mean you don’t sleep because you can’t?” The Doctor frowned at him, and Ianto continued. “Maybe you don’t sleep because when you do, the nightmares come? Not nightmares. Memories. Things you’ve seen, things you’ve done?”
The Doctor stared at Ianto Jones, unsettled, because not even Rose was this… attuned. Understanding. And really, that’s what Ianto Jones was – he understood, completely, and that boggled him.
Ianto smiled, obviously amused at the Doctor’s discomfort. “Right then.” He got to his feet and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. He came to a stop, and then the Doctor heard something being poured.
Ianto Jones returned with, incredibly, a cup of tea. He gave the Doctor a stern look, and, obligingly, the Time Lord stepped away from the door. Ianto opened the cell, put the tea down, and closed it again.
“Have a good night, Doctor. The tea has something our doctor, Owen Harper, came up with. It should put you to sleep, and no, there’s nothing resembling aspirin in there.”
The Doctor felt… touched. Ianto Jones, despite appearances, cared. He wasn’t used to being cared about, not like this. But here was Ianto Jones, yes, imprisoning him, but… Being parental. Being kind and understanding and a myriad of things the Doctor wasn’t used to, and maybe didn’t deserve. There was something in this picture that he was missing.
“Thank you,” he said eventually. “Tell Owen Harper he’s a good man.”
Ianto nodded, silently accepting the thanks. Just before he walked out of sight, he turned his head, again catching the Doctor’s eyes with a too-clear gaze. “You’re welcome.” He paused, and quietly added, “Owen Harper is dead.”
He left the Doctor alone with that bombshell and the cup of tea, made exactly the way the Doctor liked it.
And questions. Oh, so many questions.
The Doctor sipped his tea, such wonderful tea, slumped against the bench, and fell asleep.
:::
Ianto Jones returned, as promised, the following morning. The Doctor could hear plastic and metal clanging together, and he wondered what the other man had in store for him. This was the most curious jail stint of his entire life, and yes, that was including the time with the space-turnips.
“I didn’t know,” the Doctor murmured as soon as Ianto came into view.
“You didn’t.” Ianto shrugged. “As of now, this floor is under lockdown. I know the release code, of course, but for the moment we’re trapped down here.”
The Doctor gave him a questioning look.
“Meaning, I figured you might like to leave the cell for a bit. I brought breakfast. Banana-nut muffins work for you?”
“You realize, by letting me go, you’re probably leaving yourself susceptible to all kinds of Time Lord trickery and things.”
“True, but you’re as interested in self-preservation as the next person, and like I said, we’re in lockdown. You have nothing to gain by hurting me. And also, I’m fairly certain you’re a nice person when you aren’t being a complete bastard.” Ianto shrugged.
“You must be the first person who’s dared to call me that in centuries yet has no intention of killing me,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “Assuming, of course, you have no intention of killing me.”
Ianto gave him the Thank You For Stating The Obvious look, and opened the cell door, allowing the Doctor to stretch his legs as he walked out.
In the middle of the corridor of empty cells, there was a small wooden table, and there were a few chairs, and yes, there were banana-nut muffins and tea and coffee.
“How did you know I like tea and banana-nut?” asked the Doctor. He swung his lanky frame into the chair, still with the energy of a hyperactive five-year-old, which made Ianto chuckle slightly.
“I know everything,” Ianto said simply. “And, I’ve been told you like tea and bananas. It’s not very difficult to figure you out from there.”
“But how do you know?” the Doctor asked, and Ianto knew he didn’t mean food.
“I know you,” he said, tucking a bib into his collar, “because I know Jack.”
“Jack doesn’t know everything about me. And last I checked, he wasn’t one for talking about his past, either. He only tells stories.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “You know something about Jack. Well, I suppose in some ways he must be the same,” Ianto said thoughtfully.
“I know a lot about Jack.”
“Did you know that the one thing Jack always regretted was letting go of his brother’s hand?”
The Doctor stared at him in absolute puzzlement.
“It’s a large part of who he is. Losing his brother spurred him to become a Time Agent, which in turn led him to the series of events that led him to meet you.”
“He told you this?”
“Not necessarily. I get bits and pieces of important things, and I put them together. It’s something I’m good at. I read in between the invisible lines.” Ianto drinks his coffee with a tiny, blissful sigh.
“You must be the only man I know your age who wears a bib,” the Doctor observed absently.
“I’ve been told I’m an old soul,” Ianto replied. “Also, Jack’s table manners.”
“Point. That sauce from Meliorax didn’t come out of the suit easily.”
“Better or worse than Hoix blood?”
The Doctor cringed.
“Thought so.”
“How did Jack get Hoix blood on…”
“It’s a mystery,” said Ianto, shaking his head solemnly.
“Well, it’s good to know you have the proper care for suits, then. If nothing else, we have sartorial elegance in common.”
“Cheers,” Ianto said, lifting his coffee mug. It met the Doctor’s cup with a congenial clink.
There was a comfortable silence as they each drank. Objectively, it was rather comical. They were having a perfectly pleasant breakfast in the middle of a prison floor underneath a secret above-the-government-beyond-the-police base, below one of Cardiff’s most beloved landmarks and/or phallic symbols.
“But really, to know even that much about Jack must have been like pulling teeth,” the Doctor continued, licking his fingers of muffin crumbs.
“Just about,” Ianto agreed.
“So, why you? Why do you know all this? Are you just the only person on his team who can put it all together?”
Ianto set down his coffee cup, and gave him a look. It took the Doctor a moment to decipher, but eventually, it struck him that what he was seeing was pity.
Pity? For him?
“You really, really don’t know, do you? You oblivious bastard,” said Ianto. His voice is painfully kind. “Yes, I’m Jack’s team. Yes, I’m the Archivist, and everything. But to Jack – to Jack, I’m…” He looked away, but not before the Doctor could catch a glimpse of something distant and pristine. “We don’t put a label on it. Don’t ever tell Jack I said this, please. I’m his lover.”
“Jack’s lover?” The Doctor twisted the word, tweaked it just that tiny bit, to emphasize that “lover” was singular. As in, not plural. “I never thought Jack could be satisfied with only –”
He didn’t expect the sudden punch to his forehead. He yelped and nearly toppled off his chair, staring at Ianto. “What?!”
Ianto sat back down again, his anger cooler than ice, perhaps cooler than liquid nitrogen. Cold. The Doctor wondered, briefly, if Ianto Jones was entirely human. This level of calmness, and control, and intelligence just shouldn’t be possible for this species, this time period.
“So, you don’t think Jack’s capable of fidelity, is it? No, that can’t be right. You don’t think he’s capable of committing to one person, exclusively or otherwise. Maybe you don’t believe he can even form a proper attachment to somebody. He’s a former conman, a drifter. He flirts with everything, shags everything, never stays in one place, never wants to, never has a solid purpose or a grounding reason and for all he tries to be a good person, in his own way, in the end he can only make things worse. That’s what you believe of him, am I right? Don’t answer that. I know I’m right, and I’d rather not listen to you if all you plan to do is lie,” Ianto hisses.
“Yes, I’m Jack’s lover. Exclusively. Maybe it wasn’t to begin with, but whatever we have now, it’s ours. And you’re so, so wrong. You think he flirts with everything because he cares about nothing. It’s exactly the opposite. Every time he flirts, it’s his little way of appreciating life and appreciating people. It’s a compliment, a simple thanks for existing. It says I notice you and recognize you and see you, see that you have potential, see that you are a person. Even if he doesn’t know you, Jack knows you. And he sees the life in you. He sees that you live and breathe, that you fall in love and experience heartbreak, that you care about your family, that you’re having a bad day at work or think a child is the most adorable thing in the world. He flirts for that. He once asked me if I wanted him to stop flirting, and I told him no, because Jack without flirting is like space without time – there’s no meaning.”
“And sometimes he flirts with somebody a little more, because they caught his eye. I seduced him, actually, not the other way around as the rest of the world thinks. Jack loves everything, but sometimes, he falls in love. Only for special people, though. Estelle, who believed in fairies. Rose, who was so human, who reminded him that goodness existed in the world, like Gwen sometimes does for Jack now, when she isn’t being over-the-top about it. And you, Doctor. You showed him that goodness directly, and then inspired him to be part of it. You became his hero, Doctor, and he fell in love with you and idolized you all at once.”
“Then you abandoned him, you left him. The next time he sees you, the person he bases his entire life, his reason for continuing this miserable, unending existence… You call him wrong. You have no idea, Doctor, the damage you did with that one word. Just the one.”
Ianto finished off the rest of his coffee.
“You call yourself Jack’s friend,” Ianto said. “No, you’re his role model, and somebody he once loved. Still loves, in a way. He’ll never act against you. He won’t even admit to you how badly you’ve hurt him, because he’s been led to believe that you are always right. All that time, those decades, all he wanted was your approval. And not once have you given it to him. You just send him back to play with his team. His little toys and games back in Cardiff. Clearly, it’s nowhere near as important as anything you do. You ban him from teleporting, and time-travel – and yes, I understand having more than one Jack traveling around is dangerous, but you don’t realize that he doesn’t want to leave. He’d stay linear, and that teleport, he’d only use it for emergencies. However much you continue to treat him as one, Jack isn’t a child. He’s grown up. It’s you who hasn’t grown up, Doctor. You refuse to see Jack as he is, as he’s changed, and Jack isn’t able to tell you how he is because out of some misguided loyalty he still believes in you.
“Luckily, for him, I don’t. So, have you figured out why you’re having a time-out yet, Doctor?”
The Doctor opened his mouth, and then closed it, shaking his head.
“I – I need…”
“Time?” Ianto asked quietly.
The Time Lord just nodded.
“Back in your cell. I’ll be back later. And I expect you to have thought about what I’ve said.”
Once the Doctor had softly made his way back into the cell, feeling exactly like the child Ianto had made him out to be, he began to think.
:::
It was rare that he needed to think.
Most of his life was obvious. One thing was beautiful or terrifying. Something else was deadly or inimitable. Another thing was right or wrong. And he was nearly always right, and when he was wrong, that’s what he had companions for. They could keep him in check, and keep him from taking his Time Lord arrogance just that extra step further, to the point where he made judgments he had no right to be making.
But Captain Jack Harkness had fallen through the chinks in that system, and it had taken Ianto Jones to bring the matter to light. In fact, until Ianto’s words, the Doctor hadn’t known there was a matter in the first place.
So, logically, it was time to resolve it.
He could do logical.
:::
“Sorry,” Ianto said as he fumbled with the tea tray later that day. “I meant to say that in pieces, one by one. Calmer. Less psychotic episode and more psychiatric episode.”
“Well, it did get the point across,” the Doctor observed, tugging one ear.
“Did it?” And there was that incisive gaze again.
“Yep.” The Doctor returned with what he called his Time Lord stare-down thingy. It usually worked as a people deterrent, but Ianto Jones, as expected did not back down. He just nodded and broke the stare on his own terms, as… as an equal.
He really should be more offended by that. But no. He held Ianto Jones with a strange sort of deference that he himself didn’t understand. Maybe it was because Ianto had been right. Maybe it was because Ianto had the courage to knock him out and imprison him without fearing the consequences. Maybe it was because Ianto didn’t need those consequences, because all seemed to have gone as planned.
“In another life, I would have been honored to have you as my companion,” the Doctor commented casually as Ianto opened the door.
“I probably would have accepted, in that other life. At least, if you’d met me earlier. Before Torchwood. Before Canary Wharf.”
The Doctor looked at him sharply. “Canary Wharf?”
Ianto smiled bitterly. “I was there. I lived. Thank you for saving our lives, Doctor, and for the sacrifice you made to do it.”
Perhaps it said something about him that he had never been thanked for Canary Wharf. Perhaps it said something about Ianto Jones that this young man was the one to thank him.
The Doctor looked away, rubbing his eye. There was too much dust in here.
“Am I free to go?”
“Depends. I want to hear it from you, verbally. What have we learned today, Doctor?” Ianto asked with a frighteningly bright smile.
“Apart from Torchwood is insane?” The Doctor asked, reaching for the tea. Ianto slapped his hand away, giving him a stern look, and the Doctor smiled sheepishly. “Oh, alright.”
“I was wrong. Regardless of how Jack… itches… he’s still Jack. And he’s Jack plus a century of time, a century of loving and leaving and being left. He has changed. I don’t think you see how much of that is because of you, though,” he said. Ianto’s face resembled deer-in-headlights for a split second. The Doctor continued. “You’re right. Jack falls in love with special people. I don’t know who Estelle is, but I’m sure she’s wonderful. All I need to know is that Jack’s chosen you, at the moment, Ianto, and I can see why. You’re incredible. Probably the only person in the universe, that I know of, who would be willing to go to such lengths against me. Risk my Time Lord wrath, just to get a point across about your lover – and I don’t say that to belittle the point itself, more to emphasize the situation. You cared enough about not only Jack but even me to pull all this together and make things right. You’re a very special person, Ianto Jones, and don’t you dare think otherwise.”
Ianto absorbed this with grace, and eventually, just shrugged.
“I… Jack and… We’re not like that. He doesn’t…”
“He doesn’t love you?”
Ianto pursed his lips, silent.
“Well, I suppose I can’t say one way or another. That’s between the two of you to figure out. But I promise you he cares for you above anybody else, and that includes me, Mr. Jones.” He picked up his cup of tea. “May I?”
“Of course.” Ianto stepped out of the cell doorframe, allowing the Doctor to exit the cell, tea in hand. “Jack and Gwen are still upstairs, so please be quiet. I think we’d both rather they didn’t know of your visit. Your TARDIS is hidden in the lower archives, which only I set foot in most of the time, and your companion drove to London for some sightseeing. She has a tracking bracelet, and I have the frequency, so you can find her easily.”
“Thoughtful.”
“I usually am.”
:::
After smuggling cyber-conversion unit parts into the Hub, smuggling the Doctor out of it was a piece of cake. In no time at all, the Doctor was reunited with his pocketed clothing, comfortable in his pinstripes and happily twirling his sonic screwdriver in one hand as the other opened the TARDIS door.
“But one last question, Mr. Jones. Why go to all this trouble? I mean, besides the obvious, of course. Love, and all that ridiculous human stuff.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, but answered honestly. “I might just end up as a name on Jack Harkness’ long, long list of lovers. I might not even end up on that. Someday, I’ll probably be forgotten. But you won’t. The way you dance in and out of time, you’ll meet Jack over and over again. If I can fix this one thing for him, then for the rest of his life, I’ll have done something. I’ll have made things just that tiny bit better for him. Blip in time, maybe… But I’ll be a blip with one hell of a ripple effect.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. You?”
“Oh, just over nine-hundred, plus or minus a century. More importantly, I think that’s the first time in our acquaintance you’ve actually sounded your age. That’s all. I don’t know about friends, but… Truce?” The Doctor offered, holding his hand out.
Ianto shook it, but didn’t let go, suddenly getting a weird look on his face.
“What? Something in my teeth?”
“No… Just… Thinking what Jack would think of this moment.” His eyes flickered down, then up again, and the Doctor noticed a slight flush on the young man’s face.
“What would he say?”
“Threesome. He hasn’t changed that much,” Ianto said flatly.
The Doctor coughed into his hand. “Right, then. Nice meeting you, Mr. Jones.”
“Ianto.”
Half-way through the TARDIS door, the Doctor twisted back to face him. “Ianto. Right. Call me the Doctor.” He stepped into the TARDIS.
“Of course, sir.”
“Oh, you’re cheeky!” The Doctor yelled cheerfully, just before the TARDIS closed.
There was a sound, like a cat being sucked through a vacuum cleaner, only somehow it was less ear-grating and more… Musical. Ianto Jones stood there, just listening, as the blue box faded away.
“Note to self,” he mumbled. “Never, ever mention threesome with Doctor to Jack.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes skyward.
“I might actually take him up on it.”
~fin~
Author:
lizzledpink Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 4577
Pairings/Characters: Ianto, the Doctor (mentioned Jack/Ianto, Jack/Doctor, Jack/others)
Summary: Just because Jack worships the Doctor, doesn’t mean everybody should. Ianto proves his point.
A/N: For choccy_grl, whose incredibly brilliant story sparked my anti-Doctor soapbox. I love him, really, I do, but… /pulls out hair/ So, Ianto gets to be AWESOME and rant for me! Hooray! Also, Doctor the Tenth has an imaginary non-existent generic companion. That is all.
Beta: Unbeta’d; I’m impatient today. Again. PLEASE let me know if you see any mistakes, particularly if I slip into a different tense – it got away from me here and there. EDIT: Thank you
lawford ; alt_universe_me !Disclaimer: I don't own, I don't make money, etc.
:::
A Seat in the Corner
(or, in which Ianto Jones scares the shit out of the Doctor)
“Torchwood!” The Doctor announces, stepping out of his blue box with a wide smile and an all-encompassing twirl of his arm.
Something hits his temple, soundly, knocking him out in an instant. The TARDIS doors close themselves, and, if you listen carefully, you might hear the sound of a young woman yelling “Doctor! Oh, what has he done now” or something along those lines.
What you will not hear, because he has all the finesse of a ninja-teaboy, is Ianto Jones, putting down his hockey stick and frowning, hands on hips, at the Doctor’s unconscious form.
Jack’s still at that meeting with UNIT. Gwen is out with Rhys.
They shouldn’t be back for hours.
A smile, surprising in its cruelty, sneaks up on his face like a surprise birthday party.
:::
When the Doctor came to, he groaned. Somebody walloped him good, he thought, shaking his head to try and clear it.
A prison cell. Oh, wonderful. Well, nothing a bit of…
They took off his coat, and everything else with pockets. Meaning, no sonic screwdriver. This might actually be trouble.
Frowning, the Doctor sat up, rubbing his head. Where was he anyway? One moment he and his companion were in the Time Vortex. Then after that Time Storm… Ah, he’d taken the TARDIS back to Cardiff for some refueling. He thought he might drop in on Jack for a change, but instead it seemed Jack, or somebody, had gotten the drop on him.
Ha. Pun.
But more importantly, that meant this was Torchwood. Had he gotten the timing wrong, perhaps? He was certain this was some time after the Earth was stolen… So this Torchwood knew him, right? Well, that explained how they knew about the pockets. Smarter than Hartman, at least. But they should also know Jack, and they should especially know that he’s not going to destroy the planet, thank you very much, and there’s no reason to imprison him.
Nothing matched up. What was going on here?
“Where am I?” he asked aloud. Never hurt to ask.
“Torchwood Three, Cardiff, 2009,” a voice replied, somewhere on the other side of the glass. It was familiar, but the Doctor couldn’t quite place it.
“Well, that settles one question. But really, a cell? Isn’t Jack in charge here? I’m a friend of his. Not a threat to the welfare of humanity in the least!”
“I know, Doctor. I never said you were.”
“So what’s with the hospitality, then? Come on, just between you and me?” The Doctor grinned at the camera in the corner of the cell.
A young man stepped into view just outside the glass, and leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. He was wearing a distinguished suit, even a waistcoat, and looked properly Welsh.
“Wait – wait, I know this one… Oh! Yes, Ianto Jones! You’re one of Jack’s people!” The Doctor said, smiling.
Ianto didn’t smile back. “One of Jack’s people?” he asked softly.
“Of course! His team back in Cardiff. Good to see you! I’m glad you survived the Daleks and all.”
“It’s nice to hear your concern for me runs so deep,” Ianto quipped. “So, what do you know about me?”
“Sorry?”
“Me. You said you’re Jack’s friend, didn’t you? So what do you know about me? Or at least, about Gwen Cooper? Owen Harper, or maybe Toshiko Sato-”
“Doctor Sato? Lovely woman. Met her once over that space-pig business – oh, that was a messy day, that was. I met Harriet Jones that day, I did,” the Doctor chirped.
Ianto’s face remained completely still, but for the raising of a single eyebrow. “Please, Doctor. Answer the question.”
“Oh, alright then. Ianto Jones – you’re the archivist for Torchwood Three, and from what I hear, pretty good with a stun gun,” he said, smiling.
“And?”
“And… Okay, so perhaps I don’t know all that much. Nice to properly meet you, though. Now, about this cell, it’d be nice if I could be released?” The Doctor smiled hopefully.
Ianto shrugged himself away from the glass, standing upright, and looked the Doctor in the eye. “I could release you,” he admitted quietly. “I could let you in your TARDIS – by the way, it’s completely safe, and your companion’s fine, too – I think she’s out shopping, actually. I really need to nick some of your psychic paper. Useful stuff. But that’s not the point, Doctor. I’m keeping you here, at least for a day and probably longer.”
The Doctor opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again. For the first time he was feeling a bit… anxious. “Jack won’t let you keep me here,” he said eventually.
“He wouldn’t,” Ianto agreed, “But Jack doesn’t need to know. We’re in the lower prison cells. Torchwood hasn’t needed to use them since 1937. Bit of a mix-up with some time-traveling Venusians, as I understand it. They haven’t been used in years, and I’m not even sure Jack knows about them. If he does, he never bothers with them. There isn’t even any CCTV down here. Just you, me, and this cell for as long as it takes.” Ianto smiled suddenly, giving the Doctor the impression there was an in-joke somewhere around those words.
“As long as it takes for what?”
“For you to understand,” Ianto said, smiling. It wasn’t a frightening smile on its own. Actually, the smile was rather cordial. Polite. Perfectly kind. And for some reason, the Doctor mused, that made it far, far more terrifying.
“What am I understanding, exactly?”
Ianto tilted his head to the side, his clear blue eyes capturing the Doctor’s perfectly. Then Ianto shook his head and walked off, leaving the Doctor alone.
And he didn’t even have his yo-yo for amusement.
:::
A few hours passed, and eventually, not even reciting pi could entertain him.
“Okay, you’ve done it. I was mad before, but now, you have driven me insane!” The Doctor said, spinning around in a circle. “Who knew? All it took was stone-cold boredom! Ha!”
“Glad you’re amused.” The Doctor immediately snapped to attention. Once again Ianto had snuck up on him. This time, Ianto had brought a simple three-legged stool with him, and he was sitting on it, his fingers steepled in wait.
“Hello, Ianto Jones,” the Doctor said quietly.
“Hello, Doctor. So, would you like to hear an explanation now?”
The Doctor sat on the bench in the cell room, mimicking Ianto’s relaxed position.
“Good. Listen carefully. This isn’t imprisonment, exactly,” Ianto said carefully. “It’s more like… More like a time-out.”
“Time-out – you mean like parents to do children when-”
“Yes, Doctor, that is precisely what I mean.”
The Time Lord gaped.
“Now, don’t look at me like that. You’ve needed a time-out for a long, long time, I think. Though I’ll admit that time is a rather fluid thing. You’ve needed it since your regeneration, perhaps. Or, in another sense, you’ve needed it for centuries. But this is a time-out, Doctor, because you need to be punished.”
And the Doctor realized suddenly why Ianto Jones, such a seemingly harmless, innocent youth, terrified him so. He wasn’t afraid. Time Lord was just a species to him, another kind of person. Not a legend. An enemy. Torchwood, he thought, exasperated.
“No, it’s not because of Torchwood. Her Majesty Queen Victoria was not wrong about your… high-handed methods of dealing with people. But this has nothing to do with Torchwood.”
But – but no human could read a Time Lord’s mind -
“I don’t need to read your mind, Doctor, just your face.” Ianto rolled his eyes. “Do you even realize how expressive you are? Besides, in many ways, you’re exactly like Jack.”
“I am not-”
“You are. You really are. And that’s why I can read you so well. You and he are exactly alike, Doctor, and the sooner you admit that to yourself, the better.”
The Doctor wasn’t sure what to say to this. Ianto sighed, and looked at the ceiling. “I know you can’t tell, but it’s nighttime, now. I’ll be back in the morning.” He looked at the Doctor, frowning. “Do you sleep?”
“Not really.”
“By not really, do you mean you don’t actually sleep because of your biology, or do you mean you don’t sleep because you can’t?” The Doctor frowned at him, and Ianto continued. “Maybe you don’t sleep because when you do, the nightmares come? Not nightmares. Memories. Things you’ve seen, things you’ve done?”
The Doctor stared at Ianto Jones, unsettled, because not even Rose was this… attuned. Understanding. And really, that’s what Ianto Jones was – he understood, completely, and that boggled him.
Ianto smiled, obviously amused at the Doctor’s discomfort. “Right then.” He got to his feet and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor. He came to a stop, and then the Doctor heard something being poured.
Ianto Jones returned with, incredibly, a cup of tea. He gave the Doctor a stern look, and, obligingly, the Time Lord stepped away from the door. Ianto opened the cell, put the tea down, and closed it again.
“Have a good night, Doctor. The tea has something our doctor, Owen Harper, came up with. It should put you to sleep, and no, there’s nothing resembling aspirin in there.”
The Doctor felt… touched. Ianto Jones, despite appearances, cared. He wasn’t used to being cared about, not like this. But here was Ianto Jones, yes, imprisoning him, but… Being parental. Being kind and understanding and a myriad of things the Doctor wasn’t used to, and maybe didn’t deserve. There was something in this picture that he was missing.
“Thank you,” he said eventually. “Tell Owen Harper he’s a good man.”
Ianto nodded, silently accepting the thanks. Just before he walked out of sight, he turned his head, again catching the Doctor’s eyes with a too-clear gaze. “You’re welcome.” He paused, and quietly added, “Owen Harper is dead.”
He left the Doctor alone with that bombshell and the cup of tea, made exactly the way the Doctor liked it.
And questions. Oh, so many questions.
The Doctor sipped his tea, such wonderful tea, slumped against the bench, and fell asleep.
:::
Ianto Jones returned, as promised, the following morning. The Doctor could hear plastic and metal clanging together, and he wondered what the other man had in store for him. This was the most curious jail stint of his entire life, and yes, that was including the time with the space-turnips.
“I didn’t know,” the Doctor murmured as soon as Ianto came into view.
“You didn’t.” Ianto shrugged. “As of now, this floor is under lockdown. I know the release code, of course, but for the moment we’re trapped down here.”
The Doctor gave him a questioning look.
“Meaning, I figured you might like to leave the cell for a bit. I brought breakfast. Banana-nut muffins work for you?”
“You realize, by letting me go, you’re probably leaving yourself susceptible to all kinds of Time Lord trickery and things.”
“True, but you’re as interested in self-preservation as the next person, and like I said, we’re in lockdown. You have nothing to gain by hurting me. And also, I’m fairly certain you’re a nice person when you aren’t being a complete bastard.” Ianto shrugged.
“You must be the first person who’s dared to call me that in centuries yet has no intention of killing me,” the Doctor said cheerfully. “Assuming, of course, you have no intention of killing me.”
Ianto gave him the Thank You For Stating The Obvious look, and opened the cell door, allowing the Doctor to stretch his legs as he walked out.
In the middle of the corridor of empty cells, there was a small wooden table, and there were a few chairs, and yes, there were banana-nut muffins and tea and coffee.
“How did you know I like tea and banana-nut?” asked the Doctor. He swung his lanky frame into the chair, still with the energy of a hyperactive five-year-old, which made Ianto chuckle slightly.
“I know everything,” Ianto said simply. “And, I’ve been told you like tea and bananas. It’s not very difficult to figure you out from there.”
“But how do you know?” the Doctor asked, and Ianto knew he didn’t mean food.
“I know you,” he said, tucking a bib into his collar, “because I know Jack.”
“Jack doesn’t know everything about me. And last I checked, he wasn’t one for talking about his past, either. He only tells stories.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “You know something about Jack. Well, I suppose in some ways he must be the same,” Ianto said thoughtfully.
“I know a lot about Jack.”
“Did you know that the one thing Jack always regretted was letting go of his brother’s hand?”
The Doctor stared at him in absolute puzzlement.
“It’s a large part of who he is. Losing his brother spurred him to become a Time Agent, which in turn led him to the series of events that led him to meet you.”
“He told you this?”
“Not necessarily. I get bits and pieces of important things, and I put them together. It’s something I’m good at. I read in between the invisible lines.” Ianto drinks his coffee with a tiny, blissful sigh.
“You must be the only man I know your age who wears a bib,” the Doctor observed absently.
“I’ve been told I’m an old soul,” Ianto replied. “Also, Jack’s table manners.”
“Point. That sauce from Meliorax didn’t come out of the suit easily.”
“Better or worse than Hoix blood?”
The Doctor cringed.
“Thought so.”
“How did Jack get Hoix blood on…”
“It’s a mystery,” said Ianto, shaking his head solemnly.
“Well, it’s good to know you have the proper care for suits, then. If nothing else, we have sartorial elegance in common.”
“Cheers,” Ianto said, lifting his coffee mug. It met the Doctor’s cup with a congenial clink.
There was a comfortable silence as they each drank. Objectively, it was rather comical. They were having a perfectly pleasant breakfast in the middle of a prison floor underneath a secret above-the-government-beyond-the-police base, below one of Cardiff’s most beloved landmarks and/or phallic symbols.
“But really, to know even that much about Jack must have been like pulling teeth,” the Doctor continued, licking his fingers of muffin crumbs.
“Just about,” Ianto agreed.
“So, why you? Why do you know all this? Are you just the only person on his team who can put it all together?”
Ianto set down his coffee cup, and gave him a look. It took the Doctor a moment to decipher, but eventually, it struck him that what he was seeing was pity.
Pity? For him?
“You really, really don’t know, do you? You oblivious bastard,” said Ianto. His voice is painfully kind. “Yes, I’m Jack’s team. Yes, I’m the Archivist, and everything. But to Jack – to Jack, I’m…” He looked away, but not before the Doctor could catch a glimpse of something distant and pristine. “We don’t put a label on it. Don’t ever tell Jack I said this, please. I’m his lover.”
“Jack’s lover?” The Doctor twisted the word, tweaked it just that tiny bit, to emphasize that “lover” was singular. As in, not plural. “I never thought Jack could be satisfied with only –”
He didn’t expect the sudden punch to his forehead. He yelped and nearly toppled off his chair, staring at Ianto. “What?!”
Ianto sat back down again, his anger cooler than ice, perhaps cooler than liquid nitrogen. Cold. The Doctor wondered, briefly, if Ianto Jones was entirely human. This level of calmness, and control, and intelligence just shouldn’t be possible for this species, this time period.
“So, you don’t think Jack’s capable of fidelity, is it? No, that can’t be right. You don’t think he’s capable of committing to one person, exclusively or otherwise. Maybe you don’t believe he can even form a proper attachment to somebody. He’s a former conman, a drifter. He flirts with everything, shags everything, never stays in one place, never wants to, never has a solid purpose or a grounding reason and for all he tries to be a good person, in his own way, in the end he can only make things worse. That’s what you believe of him, am I right? Don’t answer that. I know I’m right, and I’d rather not listen to you if all you plan to do is lie,” Ianto hisses.
“Yes, I’m Jack’s lover. Exclusively. Maybe it wasn’t to begin with, but whatever we have now, it’s ours. And you’re so, so wrong. You think he flirts with everything because he cares about nothing. It’s exactly the opposite. Every time he flirts, it’s his little way of appreciating life and appreciating people. It’s a compliment, a simple thanks for existing. It says I notice you and recognize you and see you, see that you have potential, see that you are a person. Even if he doesn’t know you, Jack knows you. And he sees the life in you. He sees that you live and breathe, that you fall in love and experience heartbreak, that you care about your family, that you’re having a bad day at work or think a child is the most adorable thing in the world. He flirts for that. He once asked me if I wanted him to stop flirting, and I told him no, because Jack without flirting is like space without time – there’s no meaning.”
“And sometimes he flirts with somebody a little more, because they caught his eye. I seduced him, actually, not the other way around as the rest of the world thinks. Jack loves everything, but sometimes, he falls in love. Only for special people, though. Estelle, who believed in fairies. Rose, who was so human, who reminded him that goodness existed in the world, like Gwen sometimes does for Jack now, when she isn’t being over-the-top about it. And you, Doctor. You showed him that goodness directly, and then inspired him to be part of it. You became his hero, Doctor, and he fell in love with you and idolized you all at once.”
“Then you abandoned him, you left him. The next time he sees you, the person he bases his entire life, his reason for continuing this miserable, unending existence… You call him wrong. You have no idea, Doctor, the damage you did with that one word. Just the one.”
Ianto finished off the rest of his coffee.
“You call yourself Jack’s friend,” Ianto said. “No, you’re his role model, and somebody he once loved. Still loves, in a way. He’ll never act against you. He won’t even admit to you how badly you’ve hurt him, because he’s been led to believe that you are always right. All that time, those decades, all he wanted was your approval. And not once have you given it to him. You just send him back to play with his team. His little toys and games back in Cardiff. Clearly, it’s nowhere near as important as anything you do. You ban him from teleporting, and time-travel – and yes, I understand having more than one Jack traveling around is dangerous, but you don’t realize that he doesn’t want to leave. He’d stay linear, and that teleport, he’d only use it for emergencies. However much you continue to treat him as one, Jack isn’t a child. He’s grown up. It’s you who hasn’t grown up, Doctor. You refuse to see Jack as he is, as he’s changed, and Jack isn’t able to tell you how he is because out of some misguided loyalty he still believes in you.
“Luckily, for him, I don’t. So, have you figured out why you’re having a time-out yet, Doctor?”
The Doctor opened his mouth, and then closed it, shaking his head.
“I – I need…”
“Time?” Ianto asked quietly.
The Time Lord just nodded.
“Back in your cell. I’ll be back later. And I expect you to have thought about what I’ve said.”
Once the Doctor had softly made his way back into the cell, feeling exactly like the child Ianto had made him out to be, he began to think.
:::
It was rare that he needed to think.
Most of his life was obvious. One thing was beautiful or terrifying. Something else was deadly or inimitable. Another thing was right or wrong. And he was nearly always right, and when he was wrong, that’s what he had companions for. They could keep him in check, and keep him from taking his Time Lord arrogance just that extra step further, to the point where he made judgments he had no right to be making.
But Captain Jack Harkness had fallen through the chinks in that system, and it had taken Ianto Jones to bring the matter to light. In fact, until Ianto’s words, the Doctor hadn’t known there was a matter in the first place.
So, logically, it was time to resolve it.
He could do logical.
:::
“Sorry,” Ianto said as he fumbled with the tea tray later that day. “I meant to say that in pieces, one by one. Calmer. Less psychotic episode and more psychiatric episode.”
“Well, it did get the point across,” the Doctor observed, tugging one ear.
“Did it?” And there was that incisive gaze again.
“Yep.” The Doctor returned with what he called his Time Lord stare-down thingy. It usually worked as a people deterrent, but Ianto Jones, as expected did not back down. He just nodded and broke the stare on his own terms, as… as an equal.
He really should be more offended by that. But no. He held Ianto Jones with a strange sort of deference that he himself didn’t understand. Maybe it was because Ianto had been right. Maybe it was because Ianto had the courage to knock him out and imprison him without fearing the consequences. Maybe it was because Ianto didn’t need those consequences, because all seemed to have gone as planned.
“In another life, I would have been honored to have you as my companion,” the Doctor commented casually as Ianto opened the door.
“I probably would have accepted, in that other life. At least, if you’d met me earlier. Before Torchwood. Before Canary Wharf.”
The Doctor looked at him sharply. “Canary Wharf?”
Ianto smiled bitterly. “I was there. I lived. Thank you for saving our lives, Doctor, and for the sacrifice you made to do it.”
Perhaps it said something about him that he had never been thanked for Canary Wharf. Perhaps it said something about Ianto Jones that this young man was the one to thank him.
The Doctor looked away, rubbing his eye. There was too much dust in here.
“Am I free to go?”
“Depends. I want to hear it from you, verbally. What have we learned today, Doctor?” Ianto asked with a frighteningly bright smile.
“Apart from Torchwood is insane?” The Doctor asked, reaching for the tea. Ianto slapped his hand away, giving him a stern look, and the Doctor smiled sheepishly. “Oh, alright.”
“I was wrong. Regardless of how Jack… itches… he’s still Jack. And he’s Jack plus a century of time, a century of loving and leaving and being left. He has changed. I don’t think you see how much of that is because of you, though,” he said. Ianto’s face resembled deer-in-headlights for a split second. The Doctor continued. “You’re right. Jack falls in love with special people. I don’t know who Estelle is, but I’m sure she’s wonderful. All I need to know is that Jack’s chosen you, at the moment, Ianto, and I can see why. You’re incredible. Probably the only person in the universe, that I know of, who would be willing to go to such lengths against me. Risk my Time Lord wrath, just to get a point across about your lover – and I don’t say that to belittle the point itself, more to emphasize the situation. You cared enough about not only Jack but even me to pull all this together and make things right. You’re a very special person, Ianto Jones, and don’t you dare think otherwise.”
Ianto absorbed this with grace, and eventually, just shrugged.
“I… Jack and… We’re not like that. He doesn’t…”
“He doesn’t love you?”
Ianto pursed his lips, silent.
“Well, I suppose I can’t say one way or another. That’s between the two of you to figure out. But I promise you he cares for you above anybody else, and that includes me, Mr. Jones.” He picked up his cup of tea. “May I?”
“Of course.” Ianto stepped out of the cell doorframe, allowing the Doctor to exit the cell, tea in hand. “Jack and Gwen are still upstairs, so please be quiet. I think we’d both rather they didn’t know of your visit. Your TARDIS is hidden in the lower archives, which only I set foot in most of the time, and your companion drove to London for some sightseeing. She has a tracking bracelet, and I have the frequency, so you can find her easily.”
“Thoughtful.”
“I usually am.”
:::
After smuggling cyber-conversion unit parts into the Hub, smuggling the Doctor out of it was a piece of cake. In no time at all, the Doctor was reunited with his pocketed clothing, comfortable in his pinstripes and happily twirling his sonic screwdriver in one hand as the other opened the TARDIS door.
“But one last question, Mr. Jones. Why go to all this trouble? I mean, besides the obvious, of course. Love, and all that ridiculous human stuff.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, but answered honestly. “I might just end up as a name on Jack Harkness’ long, long list of lovers. I might not even end up on that. Someday, I’ll probably be forgotten. But you won’t. The way you dance in and out of time, you’ll meet Jack over and over again. If I can fix this one thing for him, then for the rest of his life, I’ll have done something. I’ll have made things just that tiny bit better for him. Blip in time, maybe… But I’ll be a blip with one hell of a ripple effect.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six. You?”
“Oh, just over nine-hundred, plus or minus a century. More importantly, I think that’s the first time in our acquaintance you’ve actually sounded your age. That’s all. I don’t know about friends, but… Truce?” The Doctor offered, holding his hand out.
Ianto shook it, but didn’t let go, suddenly getting a weird look on his face.
“What? Something in my teeth?”
“No… Just… Thinking what Jack would think of this moment.” His eyes flickered down, then up again, and the Doctor noticed a slight flush on the young man’s face.
“What would he say?”
“Threesome. He hasn’t changed that much,” Ianto said flatly.
The Doctor coughed into his hand. “Right, then. Nice meeting you, Mr. Jones.”
“Ianto.”
Half-way through the TARDIS door, the Doctor twisted back to face him. “Ianto. Right. Call me the Doctor.” He stepped into the TARDIS.
“Of course, sir.”
“Oh, you’re cheeky!” The Doctor yelled cheerfully, just before the TARDIS closed.
There was a sound, like a cat being sucked through a vacuum cleaner, only somehow it was less ear-grating and more… Musical. Ianto Jones stood there, just listening, as the blue box faded away.
“Note to self,” he mumbled. “Never, ever mention threesome with Doctor to Jack.”
He sighed, rolling his eyes skyward.
“I might actually take him up on it.”
~fin~
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Date: 2010-10-12 10:47 pm (UTC)THANK YOU. SERIOUSLY. I knew I had to have missed a few spots! <3