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DW/TW AU fic: To Save A Life. (4/5)
Why yes I split the ending *again*. The last part is actually very nearly done (will post later today or tomorrow), but it really will benefit from being its own chapter. (Chapter 1 here if anyone feels like making my day and read this story.) Oh, and this chapter is oddly appropriate for More Joy Day - you'll see why!*g*
Setting: 2027 (AU post-S3 of DW)
Summary: It's Christmas, but the rift doesn't care about peace and goodwill. (Angsty, meta-heavy & OC-centric - I seem to have hit on the perfect recipe for alienating readers...)
Characters: Jack, Ianto, OCs.
Warnings: Angst, character death.
Rating: PG-13?
Wordcount: 3000 words approx.
Chapter 4.
"Ianto... can I ask you something?"
Ianto's hands stilled in the midst of buttoning his shirt, New New York outlined through the window behind him in glorious sunshine. (Eleven more years and the world would be dead. If Ianto kept up his lucky streak he could outlive this planet. History was... idiosyncratic.)
"Go on," Ianto replied, and the Seeker shifted on the bed, careful not to upset the neatly folded scrubs.
"How... how do you cope? With people dying, I mean? You - and Jack, of course - how do you deal?"
The oddest look flickered across the Welshman's face, and the Seeker tried to quell a sudden smile. "Apart from the sex. That bit is... obvious, and I really don’t want to know. What I mean is... how do you keep going after losing your friends?"
It wasn't a fair question to ask, especially now, but the two of them had established a rapport in this place, and he wasn't sure if it'd hold once they were back home. And he couldn’t think of anyone else who would answer this particular question as honestly as he needed.
Ianto slowly continued to button his shirt, eyes growing distant.
"For me... routine is the key. The job never stops, and it needs doing, so we don't have a choice - we have to keep going. I try to just take it day by day - sometimes hour by hour or minute by minute...” He stopped, reflective. “The pain doesn't get any less, you just get better at living with it."
The Seeker nodded, grateful. Having gained Ianto as a friend and equal amidst the heartbreak was something he was very grateful for. Reaching out for his tie, Ianto caught his eyes.
"And, if it gets too hard to even cope for the next minute, getting blind drunk is always an option."
"Does it help?" the Seeker asked, curious, even as he tried to imagine Ianto drunk. It made for a fascinating image.
"After a fashion," Ianto shrugged, deftly knotting his tie, and the Seeker considered this new idea. He knew that ‘drowning their sorrows’ was a staple of human society, but it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about trying... until now, when it was suddenly imperative to discover some way or other of dealing with the shock and pain. Helping Jack had been instructive and gratifyingly hard work, but there was nothing left to do now except fetch Ianto, and the Seeker found himself unable to face Christmas just yet.
He knew the Doctor's way of dealing with loss was to find new adventures - distracting himself with wonder, and danger, and trying to fix whatever he could find because other things would always be broken. The Seeker was beginning to understand this tendency, for the first time grasping that it was a coping mechanism for dealing with something alien to their nature.
Pain was clearly the price they had to pay for being so intimately involved with a lesser species...
But first of all he had to get Ianto home. As they walked though the hospital the nurses furtively followed them with their eyes, having obviously already heard about the very significant donation the Seeker had made. But it had helped to erase Ianto and himself from their records, so it was money well spent.
Making their way out to the shuttle ports, the Seeker could hear the involuntary intake of breath as Ianto took in their transport - sleek, black and exquisitely beautiful.
“Bloody hell! That is your spaceship?”
The Welsh vowels softened the exclamation, but the incredulous tone was still a joy to his ears.
“M-hm!” he replied smugly, and Ianto shook his head. “No wonder they all treated you like royalty.”
“Well I am the prince of the universe,” he said, getting a droll look in response.
“More like the spoiled brat of the universe,” Ianto replied, and the Seeker smiled.
“That too,” he said lightly. “Now, do you want to see what it can do?”
***
When they arrived back in Torchwood - the ship safely parked on the moon - the contrast between the gleaming newness of the spaceship and the drabness of the Hub was somehow sharper than usual. Ianto looked around, face like a mask.
“What day is it?” he asked.
“Christmas Eve,” the Seeker replied, and he could see the heavy weight of the memories settle down on the other man, along with the task of how to deal with Christmas.
“Might just go for the getting drunk route tonight,” Ianto said, suppressing a shiver.
The Seeker studied him, turning options over in his head. He could (theoretically, at least) run off to any place in the universe, but for once the prospect of new discoveries didn’t hold any attraction. He could still feel the terror of that initial, desperate flight to New Earth deep within his bones, and the thought of accidentally running across a similar situation was deeply unappealing.
So... why not try the human way of dealing? The species, after all, had had a long time to discover the optimum way of coping with loss, the individuals being so short-lived. No reason their methods shouldn't work for a Timelord too.
“Can I join?” he asked. “I was invited to the party after all.”
Ianto turned, surprised, then his eyes flickered to Jack who was coming towards them from his office.
“I think that depends on Jack,” he said, but the Seeker shook his head. “I’m asking you!”
Jack he could wrap around his little finger, but Ianto was another matter. And it was entirely possible that ‘getting blind drunk’ was Ianto’s polite way of saying he wanted their guest to leave so that he could molest his boss in peace...
Then much to the Seeker’s surprise Ianto smiled, their new affinity apparently still holding.
“OK. But you’ll need to go shopping.”
***
Shopping on Christmas Eve was not an easy task, but the Seeker relished the normality of it. All the people rushing and worrying - panicking husbands looking for last-minute presents, harassed mothers looking for the last item for tomorrow’s dinner, the ever pervading Christmas jingles soon embedded in his head, twined with the voices of whining children - everyone so caught up in living that they forgot how precious their short allotted time was. He waited in seemingly endless queues, got quizzed about his age in the liquor store, and ended up with what was probably the worst Chinese take away in all of Cardiff, but he didn’t care. It was good to remember that for most people this Christmas was the same as every other - just a time for spending and eating too much and bickering with the extended family.
Yet he couldn’t help but studying the crowds, wondering what they’d say if they knew that they owed their lives to an antisocial, prematurely balding doctor that none of them would have spared a second glance. (Although at least they'd done something for Nathan...)
Briefly closing his eyes, he prayed that getting drunk would stop him thinking. He was so very tired of painful memories blanking out everything else.
Back in Torchwood, carefully lining up his motley row of bottles, he felt his phone vibrate. Checking it, he saw that it was yet another text from Allie, this time reminding him to keep warm, and checking that he had remembered to bring his presents home with him from Cambridge. He shook his head fondly and showed the message to Jack.
“You’re a lucky man, Seeker!” Jack remarked, and the Seeker nodded in agreement.
“That I am... although this must be the 30th message she’s sent me. Everything from tips about different remedies - and a few rather ingenious cures - to wanting to make sure that I’m looking after myself and eating enough... is it normal for girlfriends to be that maternal?”
Jack chuckled. “I think all women are like that. Well most of them, anyway, just look at- at Afsana...”
His voice faltered, and the Seeker looked away. He could almost hear her voice still; clearly recall the way she’d always shake her head when he dropped by and declare him to be wasting away to nothing, before getting out whatever treats she’d brought in that morning. He sometimes wondered how Team Torchwood hadn’t become grossly overweight, considering the amount of food Afsana supplied them with - none of them had ever worked out how and when she found the time for all her cooking. And now they never would.
The two of them stood for a moment in silence, waiting - the Seeker realised - for an argument that would never start. The word ‘maternal’ would have been more than enough to set off Sylvia - not to mention the oblique reference to the way Afsana insisted on feeding and caring for the male members of the team - and the two of them would within seconds have been off, yet again going over the entirely too familiar ground of feminism, post-feminism and post-post-feminism. Jack would have settled down to listen, a wide grin on his face, ready to throw in gratuitously sexist comments whenever they looked like running out of steam, and Ianto and Nathan would have fled to the archives and the medical bay respectively. In such instances the Seeker usually followed Nathan, always curious to see what new creature the rift had gifted Torchwood with, and whether he knew it and what he could learn.
But that was all gone now, and he would have to find a way of remembering them way they had been when alive, and not their silent, still bodies...
Watching Jack he realised that it wasn’t really fair to conduct his drinking experiment here, since Jack didn’t drink... Except Jack surprised him by carefully studying the row of bottles, before grabbing a 20 year old whiskey and pouring himself a very generous measure.
“Merry Christmas!” he said, holding up the glass with mock-cheerfulness and then swiftly emptied it.
The Seeker stared, then silently helped himself to some vodka and settled down on the sofa, calling out to Ianto and thinking that it was actually comforting to know that even Jack, at times like these, reverted back to normal human behaviour. Also, he could tell that Jack was letting down yet another barrier, and wondered how long it would take before he knew the other man properly - presuming he ever would. Jack, like the Doctor, seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, and yet held more secrets than anyone had the right to.
Ianto arrived, setting up a large screen in front of the sofa before sitting down, letting the Seeker flick though the channels to find something suitably vacuous. Drink and Christmas TV were the best road to oblivion anywhere, that much was certain, and the Seeker happily let himself be subsumed by the succours of 21st Century Earth.
With great contentment he discovered that the cure worked as prescribed. The edges came off the world and painful memories became blurry, as reactions slowed down and the drinking became an end in itself.
Several hours later Ianto and the Seeker watched Jack stagger up the stairs to the loo with some difficulty, trying their best not to snigger when he momentarily lost his footing.
But as the footsteps died away, the Seeker found himself studying Ianto, realising that Ianto had only been around the Seeker’s current age when he had been recruited for Torchwood One... Had from a rootless past built a new life, with a great job, colleagues and a beautiful girlfriend - and then it had all been torn away, leaving him with nothing. No wonder he had grasped onto Jack and never let go - in a world that was forever changing, Jack was an absolute; literally.
The Seeker felt a sudden impulse to do something for Jack, to somehow bring some joy to his life - a life where everything would be taken away, sooner or later. So - what could he do? What did Jack like?
As he heard footsteps on the stairs again, the perfect idea came to him - bright and shining in a world that was getting increasingly slow and fuzzy.
He waved his hand in front of Ianto’s face, and the Welshman shot him a wary look.
“What?”
Grinning he reached out, and with a touch communicated his fabulous idea in all its glory - so, so much easier than talking - and seeing the sudden twinkle in the other’s eyes he knew his proposal had been accepted, even before Ianto leaned in, unable to stop himself from chuckling as he put his hands on the Timelord’s neck.
One part of the Seeker wished that he was less drunk, since the scientist in him wanted to have as clear a memory of his first kiss with another man as possible. But he found that even through the slowness that had claimed him he could still appreciate Ianto’s skill and swiftly note the most obvious differences and similarities between the sexes... And then he resolutely lost himself, because a kiss was a kiss and going with the flow was the only sensible thing to do.
Especially when the kiss was as good as this one.
When they finally parted - the Seeker delighted at the success of his experiment and Ianto looking amused still - they heard an odd sound, and turned their heads to see Jack standing in front of them, a look of profound astonishment on his face.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The Seeker blinked, searching back to the initial idea, and then responded, beaming. “We’re trying to cheer you up!”
Jack stared from one to the other as the words sank in, and then he started laughing - and laughing - and laughing, apparently unable to stop. The Seeker got a little worried and decided to give him a hand to sit down, with some concern realising that he had apparently overshot the limit of Timelord alcohol tolerance by quite a bit when his legs took a good few seconds to do as his brain told them.
But with careful concentration he managed to manoeuver a now giggling Captain down next to Ianto, on whose shoulder Jack gratefully let his head drop.
The Seeker watched them with a fond smile, and decided that it was time for him to leave - he knew if he stayed much longer he wouldn’t be able to operate his teleport.
But he had to make sure Jack understood where he stood (figuratively speaking), and stared him down from his superior vantage point, hoping his legs could be persuaded to keep him upright for a few minutes.
“Right. Jack. Despite that being a totally brilliant kiss - and thank you Ianto-” Ianto silently dipped his head in acknowledgement, “-I would like to make clear that 'officially' I am still straight!” He shot Jack as stern a look as he could under the circumstances, hoping the man got the message. Coming across as straight was one of the only parts of his life where he still managed to appear 'normal' in this world of humans, and it was one he rather stupidly clung to.
"So - if you tell anyone about this, I’ll... I’ll send you to Desperus!”
Allie, thankfully, barely knew Jack, and would just think it was a joke, but Matt and Josh... Matt and Josh would never let him live it down - and would not be above blackmail. The curse of childhood friends...
As he was making sure that the teleport would take him home, Jack called out to get his attention, and then to the Seeker’s concern got up again - although he was apparently a little more stable on his feet now he’d stopped laughing.
“Seeker... I... Just thank you!” Jack said softly, before wrapping him up in a warm hug. “Thank you. I can’t explain...”
“What’s family for?” the Seeker replied, hugging Jack back and for a moment losing himself in the familiar and comforting sensation of Jack’s total and utter wrongness. It was entirely too tempting to stay the night and fall asleep on the couch, his face buried in Jack’s shirt; breathing those wonderful 51st Century pheromones and pretending he was only seven years old, still not understanding that he too was destined to lose everyone (except Jack, his very own forever Jack...)
But he was pretty sure that Jack had other plans, and the Seeker didn’t want to get in the way. Also, he had better be home for Christmas morning, or mum would be upset.
So, with one final squeeze, he let go and stepped away. “Enjoy your celebrations...” he said, raising an eyebrow, then pressed the button on his teleport and winked out.
***
Jack slowly made his way back to his seat, the last few minutes replaying themselves in his mind - but this time he wasn’t laughing. The alcohol had helped numb the immediate pain, but it also brought back times he tried not to dwell on...
‘Oh Master’, he thought, smiling grimly, ‘if only I had known, in that long, dark year, when your favourite pastime was to show me in every way you knew how that I was nothing but a horrible accident; a blemish on the universe who shouldn’t exist... If only I had known that your son - your precious, adored son, born to rule the stars - would one day not only save the life of my partner, but kiss him. And for no other reason than to cheer me up. Because he loves me, the freak, like a brother. Despite everything, he will never, ever, be the man you want him to be.’
It was a shallow, vengeful thought, but he was more drunk than he’d been in decades, and he couldn’t help his one moment of schadenfreude.
Then he guiltily worried if the kid would be allright, but figured that the boy was smart enough, and self aware enough, to ask for help if he needed it, and he himself had an Ianto to see to, all drunk and unravelling...
Still, there was one thing he had to do first, and clumsily he pulled out his mobile, grateful that the number he needed was on speed dial.
Chapter 5.
Setting: 2027 (AU post-S3 of DW)
Summary: It's Christmas, but the rift doesn't care about peace and goodwill. (Angsty, meta-heavy & OC-centric - I seem to have hit on the perfect recipe for alienating readers...)
Characters: Jack, Ianto, OCs.
Warnings: Angst, character death.
Rating: PG-13?
Wordcount: 3000 words approx.
Chapter 4.
"Ianto... can I ask you something?"
Ianto's hands stilled in the midst of buttoning his shirt, New New York outlined through the window behind him in glorious sunshine. (Eleven more years and the world would be dead. If Ianto kept up his lucky streak he could outlive this planet. History was... idiosyncratic.)
"Go on," Ianto replied, and the Seeker shifted on the bed, careful not to upset the neatly folded scrubs.
"How... how do you cope? With people dying, I mean? You - and Jack, of course - how do you deal?"
The oddest look flickered across the Welshman's face, and the Seeker tried to quell a sudden smile. "Apart from the sex. That bit is... obvious, and I really don’t want to know. What I mean is... how do you keep going after losing your friends?"
It wasn't a fair question to ask, especially now, but the two of them had established a rapport in this place, and he wasn't sure if it'd hold once they were back home. And he couldn’t think of anyone else who would answer this particular question as honestly as he needed.
Ianto slowly continued to button his shirt, eyes growing distant.
"For me... routine is the key. The job never stops, and it needs doing, so we don't have a choice - we have to keep going. I try to just take it day by day - sometimes hour by hour or minute by minute...” He stopped, reflective. “The pain doesn't get any less, you just get better at living with it."
The Seeker nodded, grateful. Having gained Ianto as a friend and equal amidst the heartbreak was something he was very grateful for. Reaching out for his tie, Ianto caught his eyes.
"And, if it gets too hard to even cope for the next minute, getting blind drunk is always an option."
"Does it help?" the Seeker asked, curious, even as he tried to imagine Ianto drunk. It made for a fascinating image.
"After a fashion," Ianto shrugged, deftly knotting his tie, and the Seeker considered this new idea. He knew that ‘drowning their sorrows’ was a staple of human society, but it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about trying... until now, when it was suddenly imperative to discover some way or other of dealing with the shock and pain. Helping Jack had been instructive and gratifyingly hard work, but there was nothing left to do now except fetch Ianto, and the Seeker found himself unable to face Christmas just yet.
He knew the Doctor's way of dealing with loss was to find new adventures - distracting himself with wonder, and danger, and trying to fix whatever he could find because other things would always be broken. The Seeker was beginning to understand this tendency, for the first time grasping that it was a coping mechanism for dealing with something alien to their nature.
Pain was clearly the price they had to pay for being so intimately involved with a lesser species...
But first of all he had to get Ianto home. As they walked though the hospital the nurses furtively followed them with their eyes, having obviously already heard about the very significant donation the Seeker had made. But it had helped to erase Ianto and himself from their records, so it was money well spent.
Making their way out to the shuttle ports, the Seeker could hear the involuntary intake of breath as Ianto took in their transport - sleek, black and exquisitely beautiful.
“Bloody hell! That is your spaceship?”
The Welsh vowels softened the exclamation, but the incredulous tone was still a joy to his ears.
“M-hm!” he replied smugly, and Ianto shook his head. “No wonder they all treated you like royalty.”
“Well I am the prince of the universe,” he said, getting a droll look in response.
“More like the spoiled brat of the universe,” Ianto replied, and the Seeker smiled.
“That too,” he said lightly. “Now, do you want to see what it can do?”
When they arrived back in Torchwood - the ship safely parked on the moon - the contrast between the gleaming newness of the spaceship and the drabness of the Hub was somehow sharper than usual. Ianto looked around, face like a mask.
“What day is it?” he asked.
“Christmas Eve,” the Seeker replied, and he could see the heavy weight of the memories settle down on the other man, along with the task of how to deal with Christmas.
“Might just go for the getting drunk route tonight,” Ianto said, suppressing a shiver.
The Seeker studied him, turning options over in his head. He could (theoretically, at least) run off to any place in the universe, but for once the prospect of new discoveries didn’t hold any attraction. He could still feel the terror of that initial, desperate flight to New Earth deep within his bones, and the thought of accidentally running across a similar situation was deeply unappealing.
So... why not try the human way of dealing? The species, after all, had had a long time to discover the optimum way of coping with loss, the individuals being so short-lived. No reason their methods shouldn't work for a Timelord too.
“Can I join?” he asked. “I was invited to the party after all.”
Ianto turned, surprised, then his eyes flickered to Jack who was coming towards them from his office.
“I think that depends on Jack,” he said, but the Seeker shook his head. “I’m asking you!”
Jack he could wrap around his little finger, but Ianto was another matter. And it was entirely possible that ‘getting blind drunk’ was Ianto’s polite way of saying he wanted their guest to leave so that he could molest his boss in peace...
Then much to the Seeker’s surprise Ianto smiled, their new affinity apparently still holding.
“OK. But you’ll need to go shopping.”
Shopping on Christmas Eve was not an easy task, but the Seeker relished the normality of it. All the people rushing and worrying - panicking husbands looking for last-minute presents, harassed mothers looking for the last item for tomorrow’s dinner, the ever pervading Christmas jingles soon embedded in his head, twined with the voices of whining children - everyone so caught up in living that they forgot how precious their short allotted time was. He waited in seemingly endless queues, got quizzed about his age in the liquor store, and ended up with what was probably the worst Chinese take away in all of Cardiff, but he didn’t care. It was good to remember that for most people this Christmas was the same as every other - just a time for spending and eating too much and bickering with the extended family.
Yet he couldn’t help but studying the crowds, wondering what they’d say if they knew that they owed their lives to an antisocial, prematurely balding doctor that none of them would have spared a second glance. (Although at least they'd done something for Nathan...)
Briefly closing his eyes, he prayed that getting drunk would stop him thinking. He was so very tired of painful memories blanking out everything else.
Back in Torchwood, carefully lining up his motley row of bottles, he felt his phone vibrate. Checking it, he saw that it was yet another text from Allie, this time reminding him to keep warm, and checking that he had remembered to bring his presents home with him from Cambridge. He shook his head fondly and showed the message to Jack.
“You’re a lucky man, Seeker!” Jack remarked, and the Seeker nodded in agreement.
“That I am... although this must be the 30th message she’s sent me. Everything from tips about different remedies - and a few rather ingenious cures - to wanting to make sure that I’m looking after myself and eating enough... is it normal for girlfriends to be that maternal?”
Jack chuckled. “I think all women are like that. Well most of them, anyway, just look at- at Afsana...”
His voice faltered, and the Seeker looked away. He could almost hear her voice still; clearly recall the way she’d always shake her head when he dropped by and declare him to be wasting away to nothing, before getting out whatever treats she’d brought in that morning. He sometimes wondered how Team Torchwood hadn’t become grossly overweight, considering the amount of food Afsana supplied them with - none of them had ever worked out how and when she found the time for all her cooking. And now they never would.
The two of them stood for a moment in silence, waiting - the Seeker realised - for an argument that would never start. The word ‘maternal’ would have been more than enough to set off Sylvia - not to mention the oblique reference to the way Afsana insisted on feeding and caring for the male members of the team - and the two of them would within seconds have been off, yet again going over the entirely too familiar ground of feminism, post-feminism and post-post-feminism. Jack would have settled down to listen, a wide grin on his face, ready to throw in gratuitously sexist comments whenever they looked like running out of steam, and Ianto and Nathan would have fled to the archives and the medical bay respectively. In such instances the Seeker usually followed Nathan, always curious to see what new creature the rift had gifted Torchwood with, and whether he knew it and what he could learn.
But that was all gone now, and he would have to find a way of remembering them way they had been when alive, and not their silent, still bodies...
Watching Jack he realised that it wasn’t really fair to conduct his drinking experiment here, since Jack didn’t drink... Except Jack surprised him by carefully studying the row of bottles, before grabbing a 20 year old whiskey and pouring himself a very generous measure.
“Merry Christmas!” he said, holding up the glass with mock-cheerfulness and then swiftly emptied it.
The Seeker stared, then silently helped himself to some vodka and settled down on the sofa, calling out to Ianto and thinking that it was actually comforting to know that even Jack, at times like these, reverted back to normal human behaviour. Also, he could tell that Jack was letting down yet another barrier, and wondered how long it would take before he knew the other man properly - presuming he ever would. Jack, like the Doctor, seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, and yet held more secrets than anyone had the right to.
Ianto arrived, setting up a large screen in front of the sofa before sitting down, letting the Seeker flick though the channels to find something suitably vacuous. Drink and Christmas TV were the best road to oblivion anywhere, that much was certain, and the Seeker happily let himself be subsumed by the succours of 21st Century Earth.
With great contentment he discovered that the cure worked as prescribed. The edges came off the world and painful memories became blurry, as reactions slowed down and the drinking became an end in itself.
Several hours later Ianto and the Seeker watched Jack stagger up the stairs to the loo with some difficulty, trying their best not to snigger when he momentarily lost his footing.
But as the footsteps died away, the Seeker found himself studying Ianto, realising that Ianto had only been around the Seeker’s current age when he had been recruited for Torchwood One... Had from a rootless past built a new life, with a great job, colleagues and a beautiful girlfriend - and then it had all been torn away, leaving him with nothing. No wonder he had grasped onto Jack and never let go - in a world that was forever changing, Jack was an absolute; literally.
The Seeker felt a sudden impulse to do something for Jack, to somehow bring some joy to his life - a life where everything would be taken away, sooner or later. So - what could he do? What did Jack like?
As he heard footsteps on the stairs again, the perfect idea came to him - bright and shining in a world that was getting increasingly slow and fuzzy.
He waved his hand in front of Ianto’s face, and the Welshman shot him a wary look.
“What?”
Grinning he reached out, and with a touch communicated his fabulous idea in all its glory - so, so much easier than talking - and seeing the sudden twinkle in the other’s eyes he knew his proposal had been accepted, even before Ianto leaned in, unable to stop himself from chuckling as he put his hands on the Timelord’s neck.
One part of the Seeker wished that he was less drunk, since the scientist in him wanted to have as clear a memory of his first kiss with another man as possible. But he found that even through the slowness that had claimed him he could still appreciate Ianto’s skill and swiftly note the most obvious differences and similarities between the sexes... And then he resolutely lost himself, because a kiss was a kiss and going with the flow was the only sensible thing to do.
Especially when the kiss was as good as this one.
When they finally parted - the Seeker delighted at the success of his experiment and Ianto looking amused still - they heard an odd sound, and turned their heads to see Jack standing in front of them, a look of profound astonishment on his face.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The Seeker blinked, searching back to the initial idea, and then responded, beaming. “We’re trying to cheer you up!”
Jack stared from one to the other as the words sank in, and then he started laughing - and laughing - and laughing, apparently unable to stop. The Seeker got a little worried and decided to give him a hand to sit down, with some concern realising that he had apparently overshot the limit of Timelord alcohol tolerance by quite a bit when his legs took a good few seconds to do as his brain told them.
But with careful concentration he managed to manoeuver a now giggling Captain down next to Ianto, on whose shoulder Jack gratefully let his head drop.
The Seeker watched them with a fond smile, and decided that it was time for him to leave - he knew if he stayed much longer he wouldn’t be able to operate his teleport.
But he had to make sure Jack understood where he stood (figuratively speaking), and stared him down from his superior vantage point, hoping his legs could be persuaded to keep him upright for a few minutes.
“Right. Jack. Despite that being a totally brilliant kiss - and thank you Ianto-” Ianto silently dipped his head in acknowledgement, “-I would like to make clear that 'officially' I am still straight!” He shot Jack as stern a look as he could under the circumstances, hoping the man got the message. Coming across as straight was one of the only parts of his life where he still managed to appear 'normal' in this world of humans, and it was one he rather stupidly clung to.
"So - if you tell anyone about this, I’ll... I’ll send you to Desperus!”
Allie, thankfully, barely knew Jack, and would just think it was a joke, but Matt and Josh... Matt and Josh would never let him live it down - and would not be above blackmail. The curse of childhood friends...
As he was making sure that the teleport would take him home, Jack called out to get his attention, and then to the Seeker’s concern got up again - although he was apparently a little more stable on his feet now he’d stopped laughing.
“Seeker... I... Just thank you!” Jack said softly, before wrapping him up in a warm hug. “Thank you. I can’t explain...”
“What’s family for?” the Seeker replied, hugging Jack back and for a moment losing himself in the familiar and comforting sensation of Jack’s total and utter wrongness. It was entirely too tempting to stay the night and fall asleep on the couch, his face buried in Jack’s shirt; breathing those wonderful 51st Century pheromones and pretending he was only seven years old, still not understanding that he too was destined to lose everyone (except Jack, his very own forever Jack...)
But he was pretty sure that Jack had other plans, and the Seeker didn’t want to get in the way. Also, he had better be home for Christmas morning, or mum would be upset.
So, with one final squeeze, he let go and stepped away. “Enjoy your celebrations...” he said, raising an eyebrow, then pressed the button on his teleport and winked out.
Jack slowly made his way back to his seat, the last few minutes replaying themselves in his mind - but this time he wasn’t laughing. The alcohol had helped numb the immediate pain, but it also brought back times he tried not to dwell on...
‘Oh Master’, he thought, smiling grimly, ‘if only I had known, in that long, dark year, when your favourite pastime was to show me in every way you knew how that I was nothing but a horrible accident; a blemish on the universe who shouldn’t exist... If only I had known that your son - your precious, adored son, born to rule the stars - would one day not only save the life of my partner, but kiss him. And for no other reason than to cheer me up. Because he loves me, the freak, like a brother. Despite everything, he will never, ever, be the man you want him to be.’
It was a shallow, vengeful thought, but he was more drunk than he’d been in decades, and he couldn’t help his one moment of schadenfreude.
Then he guiltily worried if the kid would be allright, but figured that the boy was smart enough, and self aware enough, to ask for help if he needed it, and he himself had an Ianto to see to, all drunk and unravelling...
Still, there was one thing he had to do first, and clumsily he pulled out his mobile, grateful that the number he needed was on speed dial.
Chapter 5.
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– !!!
It wasn't a fair question to ask, especially now, but the two of them had established a rapport in this place, and he wasn't sure if it'd hold once they were back home. And he couldn’t think of anyone else who would answer this particular question as honestly as he needed.
– Briefly considers the other three and decides the Seeker has a very valid point…
“The pain doesn't get any less, you just get better at living with it."
– Ianto as a mirror of the Doctor. And why not.
He knew the Doctor's way of dealing with loss was to find new adventures - distracting himself with wonder, and danger, and trying to fix whatever he could find because other things would always be broken.
– Bless. So true.
He could still feel the terror of that initial, desperate flight to New Earth deep within his bones, and the thought of accidentally running across a similar situation was deeply unappealing.
– Yes. How does the Doctor… oh, right, after River left he went and sulked on a cloud for who knows how many years.
The species, after all, had had a long time to discover the optimum way of coping with loss, the individuals being so short-lived. No reason their methods shouldn't work for a Time Lord too.
– I see your current music, but what’s playing in my head right now is “What do the simple folk do?” from Camelot…
Then much to the Seeker’s surprise Ianto smiled, their new affinity apparently still holding.
– Lovely moment.
Yet he couldn’t help but studying the crowds, wondering what they’d say if they knew that they owed their lives to an antisocial, prematurely balding doctor that none of them would have spared a second glance. (Although at least they'd done something for Nathan...)
– And done it perfectly, so the Doctor later noted. Go, team.
Jack chuckled. “I think all women are like that. Well most of them, anyway, just look at- at Afsana...”
His voice faltered, and the Seeker looked away.
The two of them stood for a moment in silence, waiting - the Seeker realised - for an argument that would never start.
– Exquisitely brought to life.
it was actually comforting to know that even Jack, at times like these, reverted back to normal human behaviour
– !!!
Jack, like the Doctor, seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve, and yet held more secrets than anyone had the right to.
– !!!
The Seeker blinked, searching back to the initial idea, and then responded, beaming. “We’re trying to cheer you up!”
Jack stared from one to the other as the words sank in, and then he started laughing
– Oh, lads…
Matt and Josh would never let him live it down
– Shame about those CCTV cameras, then. :)
“What’s family for?” the Seeker replied, hugging Jack back
– A deep truth.
‘Oh Master’, he thought, smiling grimly, ‘if only I had known, in that long, dark year
– And the moment when Jack confronts the Master in A Good Day suddenly makes much more sense. :)
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Indeed. Also, he knows Ianto's coping methods will probably work for him a lot better than, say, the Doctor's.
– Ianto as a mirror of the Doctor. And why not.
Ianto. ♥ ♥ ♥
– Bless. So true.
There are so many lovely lines in this. I am always pleasantly surprised.
– Yes. How does the Doctor… oh, right, after River left he went and sulked on a cloud for who knows how many years.
He grieved. For his family.
– I see your current music, but what’s playing in my head right now is “What do the simple folk do?” from Camelot…
Heh. And I'm not sure the music is inherently tied to the story at this early point...
– And done it perfectly, so the Doctor later noted. Go, team.
This was one of my tiny later additions, tying it into the main Dating plot.
– Exquisitely brought to life.
<3
– Oh, lads…
Drunk, daft, and Torchwood... ;)
– Shame about those CCTV cameras, then. :)
Indeed. (I had that 'reveal' scene in my head for YEARS AND YEARS AND YEARS before I could finally write/post it. Patience truly is a virtue.)
– A deep truth.
<3
– And the moment when Jack confronts the Master in A Good Day suddenly makes much more sense. :)
This is a feint, tiny thing comparatively, but this is probably the moment it 'starts' - the moment he begins to realise what he means to the Seeker. (The Seeker will tell him properly, later.) And when it finally comes to that confrontation, Jack will know exactly where he stands. And that it is solid ground, whereas the Master is on sand...
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– Yes. Gentle rebuke accepted.
Drunk, daft, and Torchwood... ;)
– And in this context it’s nice and cozy, but if someone were to shout that out as a threat, I’d be hard pressed to decide which was more dangerous, that or The Oncoming Storm…
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'Mope' is acceptable. 'Sulk' somehow not... Words are funny things.
– And in this context it’s nice and cozy, but if someone were to shout that out as a threat, I’d be hard pressed to decide which was more dangerous, that or The Oncoming Storm…
Probably Torchwood.
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Probably Torchwood
– Yep. That’s the scary thing…
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Ah yes. Bless. Love Clara.
but like the single word “Pond”, that was a word crafted with the specific aim of getting him back.
Mmmmmmm.
– Yep. That’s the scary thing…
Well, depends which Torchwood.