Characters: Ianto, Jack, Rhiannon, Tosh, Owen, Gwen, Rhys, Martha, The Doctor (10th), John Hart, The Master, Others
Spoilers: Starts beginning of TW season 1 and DW season 3
Summary: Ianto Jones has been searching for information about who he is his entire life. Canary Wharf gave him some answers and a whole new set of questions.
Disclaimer: BBC drew them, I just like to color outside their lines.
A/N: Many thanks to the fabulous sparking_off for beta-ing. Any mistakes left are all mine.
Reviews are always great! Thanks for reading!
Ianto’s nose twitched. He felt something brush down it and he twitched again before batting it away, only to hear a low chuckle. Blinking himself awake, Ianto found himself looking up at a very bemused Jack Harkness.
“About time you woke up,” Jack said, propped up on an elbow and twirling a feather between his fingers. “I’ve been watching you sleep for at least an hour.”
“I take it you got bored, and decided tickling me with my own tail feather was a good plan?” he replied rolling his eyes and stretching his legs.
Jack grinned. “That was step one. Step two was saying good morning,” he replied, and bent down to give Ianto a gentle kiss while running the feather down his cheek.
“Good morning,” Ianto whispered against his lips before smiling at him. Jack returned it with one of his own; soft and unguarded, a look on his face that Ianto had never seen before.
“Last night was…” Ianto started and stopped, suddenly at a loss for words.
“Amazing is the word I would use,” Jack replied, staring at him intently. “I have to ask though, is that normal? I mean, with Aderyn, is it always soul shattering, mind-merging, ecstasy?”
Ianto swallowed, almost afraid to answer. “No,” he finally responded, searching Jack’s face for his reaction. “It’s never happened to me before, and no one I know has ever mentioned it.” A myriad of emotions crossed his lover’s face, and Ianto was worried that he had said too much, when Jack finally spoke.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, before capturing Ianto’s lips with his own.
‘Thank you for choosing me, thank you for this,’ he continued in Ianto’s mind as he deepened the kiss.
‘You’re welcome,’ Ianto responded in kind, feeling Jack’s hand trail down his chest. The familiar coil of heat flickered back into life inside him, and he moaned in response. ‘If you don’t stop it, we are going to miss the meeting and never leave this bed.’
‘And that would be bad how?’ Jack asked, moving his hand to Ianto’s hip.
Ianto pulled away and looked at him. “Rhys and the Doctor will probably throttle each other and we’ll be left holding the pieces,” he said, panting for breath. “As much as I hate to say it, we really do have to get a move on.”
Jack pouted, and Ianto grinned at him, slapping his hand away as he tried to hold him in place. “Spoilsport,”
Jack said, sticking his lip out like a little boy. Ianto laughed and rolled off the bed.
“Oh, if the team could see the mighty Captain now. Pouting for not getting his way.” Jack grabbed his arm and Ianto leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll make it up to you later, that’s a promise,” Ianto said huskily, before kissing him again.
“You better,” Jack growled. Ianto smirked and walked to the dresser. “By the way,” Jack said, flinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up. “Is the color change permanent?”
Ianto stopped what he was doing and turned to face at him. “What color change?” he asked, confused.
Jack walked up to him and held up the feather he had been tickling him with earlier. “Your wings Ianto,” he said gesturing over his shoulder as he held the feather in front of him. “They used to be copper, now they’re golden.”
Ianto stared at the gold feather, uncomprehendingly before his eyes went wide, and he dashed to the mirror on the back of his bedroom door. Sure enough, his wings had changed to a liquid gold color, as had the irises of his eyes. All traces of anything other than gold were gone. He held a shaking hand up to the mirror and traced the edge of his wing.
“What’s happening to me?” he whispered, taking in his new appearance. He was so engrossed in his reflection, that he didn’t realize Jack had come up behind him until an arm encircled his waist and Jack’s head rested on his shoulder.
“So, not normal then,” Jack said, meeting the frightened gaze of his lover in the mirror. Ianto shook his head, tears of confusion brimming in his eyes. Seeing his distress, Jack turned him away from the mirror and pulled him close. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, kissing him softly on the forehead, before tilting his face up to meet his own. “Red, purple, blue, green, gold, whatever, I don’t care what color they are as long as they’re yours,” he said. Ianto laughed, blinking the tears away. Jack smiled and kissed him in reassurance. As Ianto kissed him back, and the slow burning flicker of heat inside him grew, the kiss became more intense. Reaching to encircle Jack’s waist with his arms, he was suddenly very aware that he and Jack were still naked. Jack gasped as Ianto released him and began to trail kisses down his neck.
“What about the meeting?” he asked, trying to catch his breath. Ianto answered him, eyes molten and full of need.
“There is time enough for this. I don’t know what the hell is happening to us, but I know one thing, I want you, I want to be with you, and I am not letting you go until I show you how much,” Ianto replied, and captured Jack’s lips in a searing kiss. The siren song of time called to them, and Jack felt something inside of him break free as Ianto slid his lips from his mouth, working his way up his jaw line. As he looked to the mirror behind them, Jack saw that his own eyes were as golden as his lover’s. Jack turned back to him and they held each other’s gaze, gold melting into gold. They smiled at each other, and as Jack drew him in for a kiss, Ianto was no longer afraid. Whatever was happening to them, they would face it together.
Strategy Meeting, later that morning – Newton House
After resuming his human guise to avoid any questions, Ianto, and a once more blue-eyed Jack had managed to arrive just over half an hour late. As they took the two vacant chairs, they received a knowing smirk from Rhys, and a disapproving look from the Doctor. Once they were settled, the council resumed a heated discussion about potentially giving the Doctor access to the ship buried under Carreg Cennen.
“I said no!” said Elder Tharin, a broad-shouldered bear of a man with grey wings and fierce eyes, as he slammed his palm on the table. “I don’t care how many times he has saved this planet. No Time Lord is getting their hands on the Avalon.” He glared at the Doctor, and turned to Rhys. “It would do our Brenin good to remember that it was their lack of follow through that cost us our home in the first place.” Rhys showed no emotion as the rant continued. “They always thought themselves better than us, flitting through time and space and forgetting what was happening at home until it was too late.”
“But didn’t you say that a Time Lord helped build the Avalon?” asked the Doctor. “Irina was your lead scientist certainly, but if this Time Lord worked so hard to build this sanctuary for you, why would another try and steal it?”
“Why indeed?” Tharin responded. “Because much like the Master, Time Lords are only out for what they could get from us, a means to an end. We may share a common ancestor, but Time Lords have always been a devious lot.”
“Now hang on,” responded the Doctor. “I happen to have known Irina, and I don’t see her being fooled by some rogue Time Lord. Who was it that worked on the ship with her?”
All eyes turned to Gryffud, who had remained silent throughout the proceedings. He seemed lost in thought, and responded as if trying to grasp a far-off memory. “They engineered it together, borrowed time, never stolen, part of their plan, to fulfill the prophecy.” Rhys turned to him and held his troubled gaze.
“What is it. Tad, what are you trying to say?” he asked. Gryffud had been so lucid during the ceremony yesterday, seeing him deteriorate so quickly back into his normal state of dementia was almost too much for Rhys to bear.
“Truth is where you least expect to find it,” said Gryffud, staring pointedly at Ianto. “Time will bring you home,” he added, turning away and playing with the piece of ribbon in his lap once more.
“Tad?” asked Rhys again, trying to get his attention. “We don’t understand. Tad, please.”
Gryffud smiled at him. “Is it time for my nap now?” the former leader asked. Rhys sighed in frustration.
“Sure, Tad. Nerys, can you take him?” The healer took him gently by the shoulders and started to lead him from the room. As they passed the Doctor, he stopped. “Even in the darkest hour, there is hope,” he said, handing him the ribbon, and patting his hand, before walking away.
The Doctor stared at the ribbon, trying to discern the faded pattern woven into it.
Jack cleared his throat and brought their attention back to the matter at hand. “Maybe we should take a look at whatever it is Hart left us before we make any hasty decisions,” he suggested, pulling the digi-chip from his pocket and placing it and his wrist strap on the table.
“Play it,” said Rhys, giving Jack a nod of thanks for at least temporarily diffusing the situation.
Jack placed the chip inside his wrist strap, and the message started to play.
“If you’re seeing this, then my plan succeeded,” began Hart with a smirk. The image of a small black sphere floating down a corridor replaced him; blades poked in and out of it at different angles, attacking various creatures, and a laser shot from one side to scorch a door as it continued on and out of sight. “I don’t know what you call these death balls, but the Master controls them. This is what I was running from at the Time Agency when I followed his temporal signal to try and stop him. I know for a fact he still has at least a few of these nasty buggers here on Earth.”
Hart’s image returned and he continued. “The agency is gone now,” he said, stone-faced. Jack stared at his image, wide-eyed. Sensing his distress, Ianto squeezed his hand in support. “He wiped most of us out with these things when he stole Nixa’s strap and jumped here.” Hart scratched his head. “The strap burnt out when he got here and I destroyed it when I found it. Unfortunately, that also meant that he found me.”
An image of the TARDIS was now visible. “He has plans, big plans for this ship. Something about paradoxes and drums,” Hart said as the image faded. “Not quite sure what that means, but he’s not exactly balanced, if you know what I mean. But he’s clever, clever enough to scare even me.” The Doctor nodded in agreement as the floor plan of the Valiant came up next.
“He’s got it holed up here on the Valiant. Been working on her night and day, locking himself inside and not letting anyone in,” John continued. “The odd thing is, if you listen, you can hear it, hear the ship. I think it’s dying from what he’s done to her.” As he spoke, a tear fell down the Doctor’s cheek. Hart turned as if to listen to something off-screen, before looking back with a sense of urgency on his face. “Look, I need to go. I don’t know if this helps, but something is going to happen after he takes office; something big. I can’t help you, but he disabled my strap and has a tracer on it. I can’t go off-planet, or do more than simple teleports at the moment. For some reason he doesn’t trust me,” he smirked again. Jack chuckled.
“If you can, use this to trace me, and I might be able to find you. Trust no one. He has most of the world hypnotized, and it’s almost as bad as Delfar-9. Hart out.” The message ended and silence filled the room.
“Well?” asked Rhys looking to Jack for answers.
“He’s lying,” Jack said, taking the chip out and placing the wrist strap back on his arm. “Delfar-9 was a diversion mission we went on for the agency, a decoy. He must have known that the Master was on to him and he was lying to try and warn us not to trace him.”
Rhys studied him, eyes narrowed. “And just who is this Hart to you, Captain?” he asked.
Jack chuckled. “My former partner, a swindler and a cheat, borderline insane, a liar, but when it comes to it, one of the few people in the universe, who would refuse to let an invasion stand. His entire family was wiped out by the Anaxi, and he doesn’t take too kindly to dictators and despots,” he said.
“So you think it was as much of a warning as misdirection, then?” asked the Doctor. “He certainly knew the right buttons to push with the TARDIS and the agency.”
“Sounded somewhat scripted to me,” interjected Ianto. “I think we were meant to find it. It’s as if the Master wanted him to taunt us into finding him.”
“But can we take the chance that we’re wrong?” asked Tharin. “What if he has more of those things, and has plans of attacking our children with them? Are we to sit here and do nothing as he prepares for slaughter?”
“That’s enough, Tharin,” said Rhys calmly. “We need more information before we make any hasty decisions. Ianto, is your team ready?” All eyes turned to the young man in the pin-striped suit.
“Ready for your orders, sir,” he responded, not looking at Jack.
“I want you to take them and get intelligence on the Valiant,” said Rhys. “Since comms are only available short range, I want you to keep a message stone on you at all times, and I want codenames used effective immediately to help throw anyone listening off the scent.” Ianto nodded, feeling Jack tense up in protest beside him.
“I realize that you feel you should accompany him, Captain,” said Rhys, noting the angry expression on Jack’s face. “But we need you here on the ground. Ianto has more than enough experience with reconnaissance; he can take care of himself.” Before Jack could respond, he spoke again. “Jack, I need you and your team to work with the Doctor to help sort out anything you might have at Torchwood that can be used against the Master, and to help Tharin bring the Avalon back online.” Tharin opened his mouth to protest and Rhys held up his hand to forestall him. “I realize that this is not the way we‘ve done things in the past, but we don’t have time to argue. We need answers, and I’ll be damned if this Master fellow is going to destroy everything we have built.”
Rhys surveyed the three elders at the table before asking his next question. “What about the affinity stones?” We know so little about them. Can they be used to help?”
Etienne, not an elder himself, but the current historian of his people, spoke up. “Sirs, if I may?” he asked, looking to the elders for permission. Tharin, the most outspoken of the three, nodded. The bookish man adjusted his glasses and began to explain what he knew.
“The affinity stones give the wearer the ability to channel the very essence of their element. The ability to harness their element is not without danger. If too much power is accessed, the wielder will be overwhelmed, and they will be lost to their element, merging their energy with that within the stone forever.” He paused, and seeing the grim faces around him, hastily continued. “An Aderyn, who has been sufficiently trained to use the stones, can do so without harm, but temptation to wield the power can be great. Someone with an unbalanced mind, such as Lucy Saxon, can be dangerous, as while she can wield the power of her element, she can’t control it. If she remains in possession of it, the results could be disastrous. Since the stones can only be passed on willingly or through death to a new wielder, our options for getting to stone away from her are limited.” Silence filled the room as all he had said sunk in.
“Lucy is a problem that we cannot solve today,” said Rhys. “Denjiro and Ianto have some training, but Rhiannon and I have none. Can the three of you train us to at least wield them as a last resort?” He looked to the elders for a response.
Elder Garthor, a slender man with ebony skin, and wings of forest green, responded. “I can teach you, and Ceros here can help Rhiannon,” he said, gesturing to the elder at his right. “It will still be dangerous. To avoid surrendering to the stones, you cannot take this task on lightly, it will take time.” Rhys nodded, he had assumed this, but was hoping that they might have another answer.
“Alright then,” Rhys said rising from the table. “Ianto, get your team in order, you leave at midnight tonight. Captain, I expect you and your team to have teleports ready from Torchwood to Newton House within 48 hours. Doctor, you and Elder Tharin are going to the Avalon to see if you can get him up and running.” The two glared at each other, and Rhys sighed. “He’s been dormant for at least a thousand years, can the two of you at least try not to give him a headache with your bickering as you bring him online?” he asked.
“No promises,” replied Tharin.
“Ditto,” said the Doctor.
Rhys shook his head in exasperation and looked to Jack. “Go with them. Try and get those two to at least attempt to talk to one another,” he said. “If we can’t at least try and work together, we’ll bloody well fail before we even start.” Patting Jack on the arm, he turned to go address the other elders and discuss his and Rhia’s training.
Ianto had his professional mask in place, hiding the turmoil that churned under the surface with the need to prepare for the mission ahead. Jack saw Ianto’s unspoken need for the mission ahead take precedence over everything else, nodding his understanding, he turned to address the still bickering Doctor and Tharin.
“Gentlemen, if you would care to follow me to the SUV, we can discuss this further once we reach our destination,” he said, gesturing for them to follow.
The two men glared at him and then stalked past him and out of the room. Seeing them march side by side, neither one giving the other any quarter, Jack snickered and Ianto raised an eyebrow.
‘Centuries old and still acting like two-year olds,’ Ianto sent Jack, shaking his head. ‘I can go with you as far as Llandelio, but I need you to drop me there so that I can gear up for tonight.’
‘You are not leaving here without a proper good-bye, Guardian Jones,’ Jack responded as they left the room.
‘I’ll hold you to that Captain,’ Ianto replied as they continued their way to the SUV. ‘And you best start calling me by my codename; as of tomorrow, it’s the only thing I’ll answer to for quite a while.’
‘Oh really, and what is it? Tiger-pants, Stopwatch, Golden eye?’ he asked a smile in his voice.
‘Nothing that obtuse, though mind you, Golden eye isn’t half bad,’ Ianto replied. ‘At least mine is better than Rhys’. He got piss-drunk with a comic writer back in the 1940’s, and spilled his guts. They writer used Rhys as the model for a hero in the series he was working on. His Tad apparently was irate for a decade. I think Rhys did it on purpose, though. He has a secret stash of books back at Gwen’s. Even brought them out and a helmet he had made just like his alter-ego’s that night Den gave us too much sake.’
Jack opened the door to the SUV and ushered the Doctor and a now human-looking Elder Tharin inside; after he shut the door he turned to Ianto.
“So what’s his codename then?” he asked aloud, clearly not getting what Ianto was driving at.
Ianto smirked at him as he answered. “Ever heard of Hawkman Jack?”