Different Sort of Science -- Sanctuary
Sep. 8th, 2008 10:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gracie_musicaTitle: Different Sort of Science
Chapter Fourteen: Sanctuary
Date Written: 9/8/08
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 2,367
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who/Sarah Jane Smith Adventures
Characters/Pairings: Ianto/Lisa (mentioned), Doctor, Donna, Jack/Ianto, Luke (SJA), Sarah Jane (DW/SJA), Susan (DW), mentioned Gwen, Rhys, Tosh, John Hart, Owen, Martha
Spoilers: Doctor Who up through Season 04, Torchwood up through 02
Warnings: AU like whoa, het, angst, boys kissing
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my gorgeous betas![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
totally4ryo and katestamps. For a while, I thought I was going to have to put everything on hiatus because my laptop screen stopped working. So Dell Tech Support, this one's for you! *laughs*
Previous chapters found here.
Book cover bycjharknessgirl
"That's easy for you to say! You don't have children!"
"I was a dad once."
"What did you say?"
-- Rose Tyler and The Doctor, Fear Her
Ianto found Torchwood House to be both a blessing and a curse as he slowly began to piece himself back together. The curse, of course, was that Lisa seemed to haunt the House, her presence lurking around every corner. Everything reminded him of her.
However, the blessing was that he had great, amazing friends to help him through his grief. Gwen, Rhys, Owen, Martha, and (surprisingly) Hart were wonderful constants who would let him rage or despair when he needed to but would smack him back into line when he went too far into one extreme or another. Toshiko refused to acknowledge it for the most part, sending him on his way with figures and problems for him to work. It made his mind go blank for a few hours, so he was grateful for her own version of help.
Jack was something of a blessing and a curse himself. He was nothing but kind, taking everything that Ianto threw at him with a sort of quiet dignity, internalizing it and not lashing out the way Hart was prone to do. Sometimes, it seemed like Jack knew just exactly what Ianto needed; a fistfight during a spar in the morning, a shoulder to lean on later that afternoon.
Jack didn't apologize for being glad that Lisa was gone now, and Ianto didn't apologize for falling in love with her. Neither of them really had anything to apologize for.
He had a vague dream-memory of the night after Lisa left involving Jack. The older Mage had requisitioned a carriage, a big black monster of a thing that took a team of six to draw, and taken him down to the closest pub and proceeded to get him thoroughly pissed. Jack hadn't had anything, as far as he could recall, and he couldn't clearly remember what had happened past climbing back into the carriage. The dream (oh, he hoped it was a dream, it would be too embarrassing if it was real) involved him begging, pleading with Jack for the man to stay with him, make him forget all about Lisa. Dream-Jack had brushed the hair out of his face and told him no, that Ianto was just hurting and he wasn't going to add to the pain by doing something they might regret in the morning.
Jack didn't mention anything about it when Ianto turned up with a hangover the next morning, so he was convinced it was a dream. Probably.
As much as Jack and the others had helped, it was really Donna who had helped him the most. After a few days, she'd shown him how to lock away a memory, carefully gathering up all the ledgers with memories of Lisa trapped within them before shutting them up into a safe. He'd had a few moments where he completely forgot everything about her, and he'd felt an odd sense of freedom. Then she'd opened the safe again and he'd gotten a fresh blast of pain.
Donna had given him a few moments of respite from the dull ache in his chest, and a choice. He could lock the pain away if he wanted to, and no one would blame him. But he'd also lose all those wonderful memories of her, of what they had shared.
The joy, in the end, outweighed the pain.
He hadn't seen the Doctor in weeks. From what he'd surmised from the conversation he'd overheard, the Time Lord was fighting his own demons. Ianto decided to let him alone, using the time he was supposed to be having his Earth magic lessons to wander the grounds and do some hands-on theory.
He'd been coaxing a small, sickly-looking silver-blue birch tree into health when he noticed something deeper in the brush, a stone standing straight out of the ground. He carefully pushed some branches away, feet shuffling through the debris at his feet as he neared the stone.
The bare branches of the dying trees gave way to a little clearing, the air still and quiet as sunlight streamed in through the gap above his head to tumble onto the short, brown-red dying grass and shine onto the stone that had caught his eye.
The stone was rounded, at first glance he thought from weathering, but he realized it was flat and man-made. His gaze swept around the bigger-than-it-seemed clearing and he realized there were more stones standing up.
He'd stumbled into a private cemetery, a quiet sanctuary on the grounds of Torchwood House.
He carefully moved over to the nearest stone, kneeling down in front of it. He reached up and traced the name engraved on the headstone. Sarah Jane.
"She was my wife."
He jumped and turned guiltily, looking up at the Doctor. The other was standing behind him at the foot of the grave, his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry, sir."
The Doctor hmmed and rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments. "It happened a long time ago," he finally said.
Ianto turned back to the headstone, watching has his fingers left clean lines against the weathered granite. "What happened to her?"
"She died in childbirth," the Doctor replied, "giving me our youngest son, Luke."
The younger man turned again, his hand slipping off the cold surface. "Even with Mage healers?"
The Doctor sighed heavily and nodded. "She just wasn't the age she was when our daughters were born, her body just couldn't handle the stress." He smiled softly as his eyes moved out of focus, somewhere back in his past. "Oh, you should have seen her! She was so beautiful, so kind and loving. She was such a fabulous mother."
Ianto's eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to work the maths out in his head. The Doctor looked so young to have had children.
The older man looked down at Ianto and laughed. "I forgot, you didn't know. It's more advanced magic you haven't learned yet."
"What is?"
"Our kind," the Doctor explained, "Mages, but especially Time Lords, we can, well, sort of -- preserve ourselves. If we don't get ill, or murdered, we can live practically forever if we wish."
"Who would want to live forever?"
The Doctor's face split into one of his trademark grins. "Sarah Jane thought the same way. Donna and I... well, we've always been just a little bit vain."
Ianto laughed a little. "What about your kids? Where are they now?"
The Doctor tipped his head to the side, dark eyes cutting over to the grave next to Sarah Jane's. Ianto stood, wiping his dirty fingers idly on the hip of his trousers, following his gaze. He walked carefully around Sarah Jane's grave for a better look at the name on this one. Luke.
"About five years ago -- wow, has it only been five years?" He paused, looking skywards as he thought back. "Yeah. Anyway, a fever broke out in Torchwood House," he said, obviously feigned disinterest in his voice. He started walking between the rows of graves, dying grass crunching underneath his feet. "It only affected those with Time Lord blood. Donna and I were out on a mission. Came back to find ourselves quarantined from the House." He stopped at a smaller tombstone, stooping down next to it. Ianto had stayed at the foot of Luke's grave, but he could still make out the letters the Time Lord traced with one long finger: S-U-S-A-N. "Jack had been left in charge while we were gone. He and the others had to sit by and watch their friends burn to death."
"I'm..." Ianto paused, unsure of what to say. "I want to say I'm sorry, but that just sounds so hollow." He cleared his throat a little when the Doctor straightened. "But I am, sir."
"I know, Ianto." The Doctor gave him the ghost of a smile. "Thank you." He looked away suddenly, taking a deep breath. "We buried them all here. Last bit of Home-That-Was left to us, really.
"Supposedly," he continued, "the Time Lords and Mages that came to Earth in these big blue wooden boxes, magically bigger on the inside than the outside." He laughed and waved his hands about. "I mean, look at this place. Would you have imagined there was something this big inside the little thicket of woods if you hadn't seen it yourself?"
Ianto smiled back and shook his head.
"The wood put down roots, grew into trees to protect its secrets, I guess." He bent down to pull up a few blades of brown-red grass. "But without enough of us left in the bloodline, it looks like this last little bit is dying out too," he sighed. He twisted the blades between his forefinger and thumb, watching them crackle and roll before blowing them away. Instead of floating gently back to the ground they dropped off sharply, gravity pulling them back to their proper place.
The Doctor watched the blades of grass fall back to the ground, but Ianto watched the Doctor. The man looked so... sad. Forlorn over the fact that his family's final resting place was slowly dying. He could practically feel the man's anguish, the pain that would come as they lost their sanctuary to the elements.
And then he knew. He could make the Doctor happy again. Not like he had been, but just a little. Just enough.
His eyelids slowly shut as he centered himself, picturing the scene in front of him the way he'd been taught. He could see the crumpled grass at the Doctor's feet, the progressive weathering on the tombstones, the flecks of dust and pollen and who knew what else floating in the sunlight streaming between them.
According to the others, magic was mostly mental. If he could picture something hard enough, wanted it hard enough, there was a good chance that he could make it happen. In his mind, he saw the twisted up blades of grass untwist and take root again. The effect started rippling out from that point, the grass starting to grow soft and healthy under their feet. The brown faded out, leaving just ankle-deep crimson grass, so similar to the grass he'd seen in Donna's mind. He could even imagine the tickle of the blades against his ankles.
The ripple touched the edge of the clearing and continued, traveling up the tree trunks and out through the branches. Leaves sprang up from the bare tips, fresh and green and obscuring most of the sky from the harsher elements, protecting those laid to rest beneath their quiet cover. In his mind, even the headstones had gotten a refurnishing, their faces bright and lovingly polished.
The world started moving and he realized that someone was shaking him, big hands on his shoulders. "Ianto! Stop it, you're gonna burn yourself out!"
He had to force his eyes open, and then only when he felt the Doctor smack his cheek, and a little harder than necessary, really. He tried to take a step towards the man but his knees buckled suddenly. The Doctor managed to grab him before he collapsed completely to the ground, wrapping an arm around his waist and slowly lowering him into the soft red grass.
Ianto looked past the Doctor, smiling as the sunlight filtered through the leaves, looking like green stained glass against a blue sky window. "I really did it," he murmured, his eyes starting to slide shut.
"Yes you did, idiot," the Doctor snapped, shaking him awake again. "You shouldn't have done it -- you shouldn't have been able to do it!"
Ianto could hear the sounds of shouting from the other side of the trees. He winced, turning into the Doctor as if the Time Lord would protect him from the noise. "Wanted to," he said, his sleepy voice weak in his own ears.
The Doctor shook him again. "Ianto, stay with me. You've drained yourself; if you fall asleep now, you might not wake up."
"Tired."
"I know, Ianto, I know." The Doctor touched his cheek, rocking him back and forth a little. "Please, just keep your eyes open a little longer."
Someone burst through the brush, and Ianto made a little pathetic noise and curled up tighter against him. He heard Donna, then Jack call out his name, and then hands were rolling him onto his back on the ground. The grass tickled the back of his neck and his face and he closed his eyes against a band of sun.
"God and Goddess, he's so pale!" Donna's worried tones washed over him. "Jack -- "
"Hush," Jack replied somewhere around his head. He felt one hand move around the back of his head while Jack leaned over him.
The firm press of Jack's mouth against his sent Ianto's already exhausted, confused mind reeling. Remembering the way this had turned out last time he struggled weakly at first. His hands went up to push feebly at Jack's shoulders, but the man just moved his free hand up to capture one of Ianto's. Projected calm slammed into him from three fronts and he relaxed into the kiss. Once he'd calmed himself he realized that his entire body was tingling, like he was standing outside during a thunderstorm.
Ianto's eyes slowly opened when Jack pulled back. He smiled down at the young Welshman, unable to hide the worry in his blue eyes. "Feeling better?"
He started to shake his head but winced. "A bit," he finally admitted, closing his eyes again. "Not as exhausted."
The three stood and helped him to his unsteady feet. After just a few steps it became apparent that Ianto wasn't going to make it on his own, so they hoisted him onto Jack's back. He felt completely silly at being unable to walk.
"How'd you do it, John?" Donna demanded behind them. Her voice was lowered in an attempt to whisper, but her voice just carried so.
"I didn't do a thing!" the Doctor argued.
"But -- how?"
"I don't know!"
"I thought only a Time Lord could do that!"
"I. Don't. Know. Donna! Maybe he is one!"
Ianto closed his eyes as he leaned his cheek against Jack's shoulder. Just what the hell was he?
Chapter Fourteen: Sanctuary
Date Written: 9/8/08
Rating: PG-13/T
Word Count: 2,367
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who/Sarah Jane Smith Adventures
Characters/Pairings: Ianto/Lisa (mentioned), Doctor, Donna, Jack/Ianto, Luke (SJA), Sarah Jane (DW/SJA), Susan (DW), mentioned Gwen, Rhys, Tosh, John Hart, Owen, Martha
Spoilers: Doctor Who up through Season 04, Torchwood up through 02
Warnings: AU like whoa, het, angst, boys kissing
Author's Notes: Thanks so much to my gorgeous betas
totally4ryo and katestamps. For a while, I thought I was going to have to put everything on hiatus because my laptop screen stopped working. So Dell Tech Support, this one's for you! *laughs*Previous chapters found here.
Book cover by
cjharknessgirl"That's easy for you to say! You don't have children!"
"I was a dad once."
"What did you say?"
-- Rose Tyler and The Doctor, Fear Her
Ianto found Torchwood House to be both a blessing and a curse as he slowly began to piece himself back together. The curse, of course, was that Lisa seemed to haunt the House, her presence lurking around every corner. Everything reminded him of her.
However, the blessing was that he had great, amazing friends to help him through his grief. Gwen, Rhys, Owen, Martha, and (surprisingly) Hart were wonderful constants who would let him rage or despair when he needed to but would smack him back into line when he went too far into one extreme or another. Toshiko refused to acknowledge it for the most part, sending him on his way with figures and problems for him to work. It made his mind go blank for a few hours, so he was grateful for her own version of help.
Jack was something of a blessing and a curse himself. He was nothing but kind, taking everything that Ianto threw at him with a sort of quiet dignity, internalizing it and not lashing out the way Hart was prone to do. Sometimes, it seemed like Jack knew just exactly what Ianto needed; a fistfight during a spar in the morning, a shoulder to lean on later that afternoon.
Jack didn't apologize for being glad that Lisa was gone now, and Ianto didn't apologize for falling in love with her. Neither of them really had anything to apologize for.
He had a vague dream-memory of the night after Lisa left involving Jack. The older Mage had requisitioned a carriage, a big black monster of a thing that took a team of six to draw, and taken him down to the closest pub and proceeded to get him thoroughly pissed. Jack hadn't had anything, as far as he could recall, and he couldn't clearly remember what had happened past climbing back into the carriage. The dream (oh, he hoped it was a dream, it would be too embarrassing if it was real) involved him begging, pleading with Jack for the man to stay with him, make him forget all about Lisa. Dream-Jack had brushed the hair out of his face and told him no, that Ianto was just hurting and he wasn't going to add to the pain by doing something they might regret in the morning.
Jack didn't mention anything about it when Ianto turned up with a hangover the next morning, so he was convinced it was a dream. Probably.
As much as Jack and the others had helped, it was really Donna who had helped him the most. After a few days, she'd shown him how to lock away a memory, carefully gathering up all the ledgers with memories of Lisa trapped within them before shutting them up into a safe. He'd had a few moments where he completely forgot everything about her, and he'd felt an odd sense of freedom. Then she'd opened the safe again and he'd gotten a fresh blast of pain.
Donna had given him a few moments of respite from the dull ache in his chest, and a choice. He could lock the pain away if he wanted to, and no one would blame him. But he'd also lose all those wonderful memories of her, of what they had shared.
The joy, in the end, outweighed the pain.
He hadn't seen the Doctor in weeks. From what he'd surmised from the conversation he'd overheard, the Time Lord was fighting his own demons. Ianto decided to let him alone, using the time he was supposed to be having his Earth magic lessons to wander the grounds and do some hands-on theory.
He'd been coaxing a small, sickly-looking silver-blue birch tree into health when he noticed something deeper in the brush, a stone standing straight out of the ground. He carefully pushed some branches away, feet shuffling through the debris at his feet as he neared the stone.
The bare branches of the dying trees gave way to a little clearing, the air still and quiet as sunlight streamed in through the gap above his head to tumble onto the short, brown-red dying grass and shine onto the stone that had caught his eye.
The stone was rounded, at first glance he thought from weathering, but he realized it was flat and man-made. His gaze swept around the bigger-than-it-seemed clearing and he realized there were more stones standing up.
He'd stumbled into a private cemetery, a quiet sanctuary on the grounds of Torchwood House.
He carefully moved over to the nearest stone, kneeling down in front of it. He reached up and traced the name engraved on the headstone. Sarah Jane.
"She was my wife."
He jumped and turned guiltily, looking up at the Doctor. The other was standing behind him at the foot of the grave, his hands in his pockets.
"I'm sorry, sir."
The Doctor hmmed and rocked back and forth on his heels for a few moments. "It happened a long time ago," he finally said.
Ianto turned back to the headstone, watching has his fingers left clean lines against the weathered granite. "What happened to her?"
"She died in childbirth," the Doctor replied, "giving me our youngest son, Luke."
The younger man turned again, his hand slipping off the cold surface. "Even with Mage healers?"
The Doctor sighed heavily and nodded. "She just wasn't the age she was when our daughters were born, her body just couldn't handle the stress." He smiled softly as his eyes moved out of focus, somewhere back in his past. "Oh, you should have seen her! She was so beautiful, so kind and loving. She was such a fabulous mother."
Ianto's eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to work the maths out in his head. The Doctor looked so young to have had children.
The older man looked down at Ianto and laughed. "I forgot, you didn't know. It's more advanced magic you haven't learned yet."
"What is?"
"Our kind," the Doctor explained, "Mages, but especially Time Lords, we can, well, sort of -- preserve ourselves. If we don't get ill, or murdered, we can live practically forever if we wish."
"Who would want to live forever?"
The Doctor's face split into one of his trademark grins. "Sarah Jane thought the same way. Donna and I... well, we've always been just a little bit vain."
Ianto laughed a little. "What about your kids? Where are they now?"
The Doctor tipped his head to the side, dark eyes cutting over to the grave next to Sarah Jane's. Ianto stood, wiping his dirty fingers idly on the hip of his trousers, following his gaze. He walked carefully around Sarah Jane's grave for a better look at the name on this one. Luke.
"About five years ago -- wow, has it only been five years?" He paused, looking skywards as he thought back. "Yeah. Anyway, a fever broke out in Torchwood House," he said, obviously feigned disinterest in his voice. He started walking between the rows of graves, dying grass crunching underneath his feet. "It only affected those with Time Lord blood. Donna and I were out on a mission. Came back to find ourselves quarantined from the House." He stopped at a smaller tombstone, stooping down next to it. Ianto had stayed at the foot of Luke's grave, but he could still make out the letters the Time Lord traced with one long finger: S-U-S-A-N. "Jack had been left in charge while we were gone. He and the others had to sit by and watch their friends burn to death."
"I'm..." Ianto paused, unsure of what to say. "I want to say I'm sorry, but that just sounds so hollow." He cleared his throat a little when the Doctor straightened. "But I am, sir."
"I know, Ianto." The Doctor gave him the ghost of a smile. "Thank you." He looked away suddenly, taking a deep breath. "We buried them all here. Last bit of Home-That-Was left to us, really.
"Supposedly," he continued, "the Time Lords and Mages that came to Earth in these big blue wooden boxes, magically bigger on the inside than the outside." He laughed and waved his hands about. "I mean, look at this place. Would you have imagined there was something this big inside the little thicket of woods if you hadn't seen it yourself?"
Ianto smiled back and shook his head.
"The wood put down roots, grew into trees to protect its secrets, I guess." He bent down to pull up a few blades of brown-red grass. "But without enough of us left in the bloodline, it looks like this last little bit is dying out too," he sighed. He twisted the blades between his forefinger and thumb, watching them crackle and roll before blowing them away. Instead of floating gently back to the ground they dropped off sharply, gravity pulling them back to their proper place.
The Doctor watched the blades of grass fall back to the ground, but Ianto watched the Doctor. The man looked so... sad. Forlorn over the fact that his family's final resting place was slowly dying. He could practically feel the man's anguish, the pain that would come as they lost their sanctuary to the elements.
And then he knew. He could make the Doctor happy again. Not like he had been, but just a little. Just enough.
His eyelids slowly shut as he centered himself, picturing the scene in front of him the way he'd been taught. He could see the crumpled grass at the Doctor's feet, the progressive weathering on the tombstones, the flecks of dust and pollen and who knew what else floating in the sunlight streaming between them.
According to the others, magic was mostly mental. If he could picture something hard enough, wanted it hard enough, there was a good chance that he could make it happen. In his mind, he saw the twisted up blades of grass untwist and take root again. The effect started rippling out from that point, the grass starting to grow soft and healthy under their feet. The brown faded out, leaving just ankle-deep crimson grass, so similar to the grass he'd seen in Donna's mind. He could even imagine the tickle of the blades against his ankles.
The ripple touched the edge of the clearing and continued, traveling up the tree trunks and out through the branches. Leaves sprang up from the bare tips, fresh and green and obscuring most of the sky from the harsher elements, protecting those laid to rest beneath their quiet cover. In his mind, even the headstones had gotten a refurnishing, their faces bright and lovingly polished.
The world started moving and he realized that someone was shaking him, big hands on his shoulders. "Ianto! Stop it, you're gonna burn yourself out!"
He had to force his eyes open, and then only when he felt the Doctor smack his cheek, and a little harder than necessary, really. He tried to take a step towards the man but his knees buckled suddenly. The Doctor managed to grab him before he collapsed completely to the ground, wrapping an arm around his waist and slowly lowering him into the soft red grass.
Ianto looked past the Doctor, smiling as the sunlight filtered through the leaves, looking like green stained glass against a blue sky window. "I really did it," he murmured, his eyes starting to slide shut.
"Yes you did, idiot," the Doctor snapped, shaking him awake again. "You shouldn't have done it -- you shouldn't have been able to do it!"
Ianto could hear the sounds of shouting from the other side of the trees. He winced, turning into the Doctor as if the Time Lord would protect him from the noise. "Wanted to," he said, his sleepy voice weak in his own ears.
The Doctor shook him again. "Ianto, stay with me. You've drained yourself; if you fall asleep now, you might not wake up."
"Tired."
"I know, Ianto, I know." The Doctor touched his cheek, rocking him back and forth a little. "Please, just keep your eyes open a little longer."
Someone burst through the brush, and Ianto made a little pathetic noise and curled up tighter against him. He heard Donna, then Jack call out his name, and then hands were rolling him onto his back on the ground. The grass tickled the back of his neck and his face and he closed his eyes against a band of sun.
"God and Goddess, he's so pale!" Donna's worried tones washed over him. "Jack -- "
"Hush," Jack replied somewhere around his head. He felt one hand move around the back of his head while Jack leaned over him.
The firm press of Jack's mouth against his sent Ianto's already exhausted, confused mind reeling. Remembering the way this had turned out last time he struggled weakly at first. His hands went up to push feebly at Jack's shoulders, but the man just moved his free hand up to capture one of Ianto's. Projected calm slammed into him from three fronts and he relaxed into the kiss. Once he'd calmed himself he realized that his entire body was tingling, like he was standing outside during a thunderstorm.
Ianto's eyes slowly opened when Jack pulled back. He smiled down at the young Welshman, unable to hide the worry in his blue eyes. "Feeling better?"
He started to shake his head but winced. "A bit," he finally admitted, closing his eyes again. "Not as exhausted."
The three stood and helped him to his unsteady feet. After just a few steps it became apparent that Ianto wasn't going to make it on his own, so they hoisted him onto Jack's back. He felt completely silly at being unable to walk.
"How'd you do it, John?" Donna demanded behind them. Her voice was lowered in an attempt to whisper, but her voice just carried so.
"I didn't do a thing!" the Doctor argued.
"But -- how?"
"I don't know!"
"I thought only a Time Lord could do that!"
"I. Don't. Know. Donna! Maybe he is one!"
Ianto closed his eyes as he leaned his cheek against Jack's shoulder. Just what the hell was he?
