![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
d8rkmessngrAuthor: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, dark, angsty, disturbing imagery (a matter of reader's interpretation, though)
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to DW's "The Sound of Drums"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36, Ch 37 Act 1/9
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 37 "The Sound of Drums"
Act II: "Who'd call himself the Master?"
Downing Street, London
Present day…
Lucy Saxon—she still marveled at the whirlwind from autobiographer to marrying the subject she was writing about—trailed behind her husband with his entourage of press secretaries, policy assistants and aides as they entered Downing Street for the first time officially as PM and wife. She wore a hint of amusement on her lips when others paused to clap as her Harry strode by, smiling, nodding, and acknowledging the fanfare with his own secretive smile. Harry had been confident about the elections, swore by Archangel and sure enough, Harry won the special elections by a landslide.
But already, the vultures of government lined the corridors waiting.
"Finance report, sir."
"Military protocol, sir."
"EC directive, sir."
"Annual budget, sir."
"Policy recommendations."
Stack after stack they handed over folders and papers to her Harry with efficient, clipped rapid-fire words. Harry accepted each one with a look of mild tolerance and Lucy was half-tempted to take them and fling them back at their faces. She didn't, however, because Harry wouldn't approve of such a spectacle. What useless concerns to bother Harry with. Did they not realize it would be pointless in the end? Didn't they realize Harry was meant for bigger things?
Lucy stopped short behind her husband, outside the room where Harry would meet his cabinet for the first and last time.
It was with a sharp intake of breath that Harry turned around on his heels to her. He shared a smirk with Lucy.
"I'm so proud of you, Harry," Lucy murmured. It felt like her heart was bursting. She so wanted to call him by his other name, but it wasn't time. Harry said it wasn't time yet.
His eyes sparkled at her, always with more than he ever says and it drew her ever since she first met him. His lazy smile spread and he reached over to cup her cheek. Lucy leaned into his hand and thought she could feel him pouring into her through his tapping fingers. He pulled her in for a kiss. Someone watching from his entourage sighed wistfully.
Her joy, however, faltered when their lips met. Lucy could feel his mouth trembling minutely on her. Too soon, she thought in despair as she deepened their kiss to try and absorb the ever-growing hunger, the shakes away from Harry. She kept her hands from curling on his arms, from clawing his arms to keep him here and not go back to him.
When they parted, Lucy could see the strain in his eyes. The universe that lived forever in his gaze dimmed a little; like stars winking out. It frightened her. It looked like Utopia. Harry had taken her there. Everything she'd know had shattered and she had screamed and screamed non-stop in his ship for two days. Those poor souls. Their children. They were all waiting in the approaching empty dark. Harry promised it would never grow dark like that again. He would fix it; save them all. He promised.
"Bless," Harry murmured to her and gazed at her like he was seeing something or someone else. Lucy wanted to hold tight to his hand, but ever mindful of appearances—Harry detested too much drama from her—Lucy dropped her hands and just smiled at him. Harry met her eyes with the pledge; soon, his eyes read. Lucy had waited so long since their return from Utopia. She bided her time standing by Harry as he planned, mapped, then executed a plan Lucy barely comprehended. It didn't matter. He said it would fix things. That's all Lucy really needed to know.
Before Harry could enter the chamber to meet the cabinet, a young dark-skinned woman trotted up to him with the nervous manner of a schoolgirl.
"Sir, if you don't mind me asking," she stammered. It was amusing to see her dressed up in a copy of one of Lucy's old outfits. The paparazzi had printed countless pictures of Lucy during the elections and it seemed like all of London was mirroring her in all the fascination England was known for in regards to their celebrities. It had amused Harry to no end.
The girl was in a dark gray version of the Versace suit Lucy once wore during their public appearance at Westminster Abbey. "I'm sorry," the girl stuttered, "but it's all a bit new, what exactly do you want me to do?"
God, Harry was right. They were all such children.
"Oh, yes," Harry drawled, "what was it…" Harry pretended to give it some thought.
The young woman didn't seem to mind that Harry didn't appear to recall her name. In fact, she preened at the chance to introduce herself. "Tish, Letitia Jones. Tish."
Tish? Lucy fought back the urge to frown. Harry said it wasn't flattering when she did that.
"Well then, Tish." Harry considered the Jones girl with a calculating eye. He offered a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "You just stand there and look gorgeous."
Lucy chuckled under her breath and saw Harry glanced back to her, bemused. He turned back to the young woman, to the expectant faces gathered behind Jones.
"Well," Harry rumbled and he gave a little bow to his audience. "Here we go again."
Everyone laughed but only Harry truly knew why it was funny.
"Knock them dead, sir!" Someone cheered from the back just as Harry wrapped his hand on the knob.
Harry turned back to the crowd, at the young faces who followed him throughout the entire election like sheep blindly herding to slaughter. His smile was blinding.
"They won't know what hit them," Harry promised. He winked to her and to lovely, clueless Jones.
Everyone laughed and cheered as Harry threw open the door with the kind of flourish uniquely Harry. Lucy stared at his back as the door slowly closed.
"A glorious day again!" Lucy heard Harry state to the lined and annoyed faces of the cabinet. "Downing Street rebuilt…"
Lucy broke her gaze from the door and turned back to the Tish girl.
"Letitia Jones, is it?" Lucy inquired coolly.
"Tish, ma'am."
"Yes." The curve she forced her mouth into hurt. "Tish." Lucy turned quickly. Her smile dropped but no one was watching. "Come. We'll wait for the Prime Minister at our residence," Lucy said quite firmly and started walking.
Tish Jones had no choice but to follow but kept a respectable distance behind Lucy. That suited Lucy just fine. Harry was the one who had insisted she was necessary for whatever reason. She hoped it wasn't because Tish could hear the drumming, too. Lucy clasped her hands so they wouldn't ball into small fists.
"Mr. Saxon will come back to the residence first when he's done," Tish assumed more than asked because of course, everyone knew Harold Saxon was devoted to his wife. Tish sighed with the hint of romantic envy.
Lucy wanted to turn around and slap her but she just kept walking.
Somewhere in London…
"Home!" Martha cheered as she entered her flat. Martha tossed her front door key into a basket by the door.
Ianto barely had time to avoid the laundry rack by the door as he was steered into a brightly colored room by the solid grip on his elbow. The Doctor's thumb and index finger dug into his arm.
"Kitchen's over there, bathroom's…" When Martha realized no one was listening, she rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "Never mind."
"What have you got?" the Doctor demanded. He gave the compact room only a brief glance. "Computer, laptop, anything."
"But we saw him on the screen!" Ianto argued. He eyed the door. How long would it take to get from here to Downing Street? "We know where he is!"
"Yes, but not where Jack is," the Doctor pointed out. The time traveler spun around, dismissing him as he waved his hands at Martha, rushing her along.
Snapping his mouth shut, Ianto glowered at the Doctor and tugged at his suit jacket—he must look like a sight now—and opened his mouth to say something then clamped his mouth shut again. Instead, he patted around his pockets until he found his mobile. Their jaunt through time had left it silent, but now, back in the 21st century, it was working again although ironically, it was still searching for a signal.
As soon as his mobile signaled it was ready, Ianto punched a number he knew by heart.
"Come on, come on," Ianto muttered. All he heard was the annoying dial tone.
The Doctor, who had been busy gesticulating to Martha, whipped his head around. "Who are you phoning?"
"Torchwood, but there's no reply." Ianto frowned to himself as he pulled the mobile away from his ear. "Where could they have gone?" He tried Owen's mobile as well. Nothing. Damn, damn, damn.
"You can't tell anyone we're here!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"Why not?" Ianto demanded. "Someone needs to do something and since you're so determined not to let it be me, then it should be them!"
"We don't want the Master finding out we're here!"
Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Are you insinuating that my friends would tell him?"
"No! But obviously he's very connected in this century."
"We can't stand by and do nothing!" Ianto gripped his mobile tight in his fist. God, the urge to punch him was starting to overpower everything else.
"And what were you planning to do when you find the Master?" the Doctor challenged.
Ianto paced because it was better than standing still, better than feeling so useless.
"You think you can walk right up to him and do what?" the Doctor continued.
"I don't know!" Ianto snapped. "Maybe a nice bullet to his hea—" Ianto's eyes widened when he pulled out something other than his weapon from his holster.
"There will be no more killing," the Doctor rumbled.
"You did this?" Ianto shook the banana at the time traveler.
The Doctor stared back, unfazed. "Of course I did."
"When did you—Where on earth did you find a banana at the end of the universe?" Ianto sputtered. "Give me back my gun!"
An eye blink. "No."
"You can't just take it!"
"But I just did."
"You—"
"Here you go," Martha announced, slipping in-between the two before the voices could escalate to something more violent. She passed over a laptop to the time traveler. "Any good?"
"It'll have to do," the Doctor said begrudgingly as he accepted it.
"Good?" Martha stressed, her hand on Ianto's chest. She stared up intently at Ianto. Martha refused to move, her hand planted on him like a vise.
"The Doctor will figure something out," Martha murmured. She patted Ianto's chest. "You just have to trust he'll do it."
Ianto stared at her. After a moment, he deflated. He tossed the banana onto her tiny counter and nodded slowly. He offered Martha a wan smile. Martha squeezed his left hand.
"Here, Torchwood, why don't you go do something more constructive than shooting guns," the Doctor said, gripping Ianto by the shoulders and sitting him down. "Let's find out more before we go run off blindly, eh?"
"Never stopped you before," Ianto grumbled but he obliged, glad to be doing something at least. Fingers dancing across the keyboard, he bit back a wistful remark about the computer. God, he missed their computers. Tosh had always obsessed over maintaining them. It spoiled them; everything felt too slow now outside Torchwood.
"There are loads of Saxon websites out there, he's been around for ages," Martha explained. She leaned over, trying to see between them. "There should be something about him somewhere."
"Checking," Ianto reported as he typed 'Harold Saxon' into a search box.
"I though you met him before? You didn't recognize him?" Martha asked as she peered over his shoulder. "He's been around for ages."
"I would have thought this would have caught Torchwood's attention," the Doctor muttered as he leaned over them to get a better look, "seeing he was an alien after all."
"We're not like that," Ianto seethed as he waited for the search results. He groaned to himself when the search engine came back with far too many results. Brilliant.
"Jack and I lost interest in politics since…since Canary Wharf." Ianto blinked rapidly as he stared at the blurring screen. "Everyone I knew died there and those we couldn't save…" Ianto cleared his throat.
"Let's just say London was not helpful," Ianto rasped, unable to keep his voice from cracking.
The Doctor got very quiet before he exhaled with a soft, "Ah."
Ianto thought he felt a warm hand settle on his back, but when he glanced up, the Doctor was looking intently on the screen.
"That's so weird," Martha marveled as she straightened and circled her room, "'cause the day after the election, that's only four days after I met you."
The Doctor grimaced. He scratched the back of his head. "We went flying all round the universe while he was here all the time."
"Jack was waiting and he'd been here. Right here," Ianto murmured. He swallowed as he clicked on the first link. He growled under his breath. It was just a fan page, tiled with paparazzi photos of him and his wife. Ianto nearly shut the laptop. The smirk plastered all over the screen grated him.
"You gonna tell us who he is?" Martha asked.
The Doctor was curt as he pointed to another link for Ianto to check. "He's a Time Lord."
"What about the rest of it?" Martha pressed. "I mean, who'd call himself the Master?" Martha drawled the last part mockingly.
Ianto snorted. "What kind of person calls himself the Doctor?"
"Same kind who calls himself Torchwood," the Doctor quipped and gave him a hearty pat on the head.
Ianto's head rocked forward at the head slap. He twisted around and glowered at the time traveler.
"You call me Torchwood," Ianto snapped.
The Doctor grinned. "And it was a good name too, yes? Jones and Jones would have been too confusing. Never know when I may need to shout out your name and two Jones would have really been too much. Can't have you both come running if I call. Agree? I thought so."
Ianto opened his mouth to say something. Instead, he shook his head and then just turned back to the laptop. He refused to turn back around as he sorted through the various news websites. Saxon was found everywhere with his wife. Ianto sat back, a little numb. How was this possible?
"But besides being a Time Lord," Martha insisted. "What else?"
Ianto could hear the quirky grin fade behind him. "That's all you need to know," the Doctor answered shortly. "Come on, show me Harold Saxon."
While site after site was pulled up, Ianto could hear Martha moving restlessly behind them. He jumped when something squawked as Martha checked her messages.
"…Martha, where are you? I've got this new job! You won't believe it, it's weird. They phoned me up out of the blue…"
"Oh, like it matters!" Martha grumbled and she shut her answering machine off with more force than necessary.
The Doctor didn't look over. He just pointed to one link.
"There. There! Try that one!"
"Would you like to try yourself?" Ianto grumbled. "It's easier when you're not hovering over me."
"I don't hover! You're too slow," the Doctor complained. "What is that? Five words a minute?"
"I don't tell you how to fly your time machine, don't tell me how to type!"
"Oi, are you two still at it?" Martha complained. "The Master could be at the end of the universe and back while you two have a go at it!"
Martha was right, of course. Ianto set his jaw and continued his typing. At the click, the screen turned black as a very modern looking website appeared. Saxon's smug portrait was pasted on the upper left corner. Ianto's right eye twitched. Ianto remembered that same arrogant expression in London, in Hartman's office.
One video popped up. Ianto blinked at Sharon Osbourne posing in the digital video.
"I'm voting Saxon. He can tick my box any day."
A few young rugby players beamed back on the next video. "Vote Saxon," they chorused. "Go Harry!"
"I think Mr. Saxon is exactly what this country needs…"
"Good Lord," Ianto murmured. It was too surreal. All those smiling faces endorsing that monster.
"The Master's created this whole…person…this…this Harold Saxon," the Doctor muttered.
"But that's just it," Martha spoke up as she sat on top of her desk. "He didn't feel like a made up person. I remember him. I'd heard about Harold Saxon before I met you!"
"If the Master had gone back in time, there's a good chance you probably did," the Doctor agreed as he read over Ianto's shoulder at the testimonials. The time traveler made a face at the passages he read.
"But what I don't understand," Ianto whispered as he studied one online article about Saxon launching the Archangel network. "After he stole the TARDIS, he must have gone straight back for Jack." Because of him. Ianto could feel a pricking at the corner of his eyes.
"Why Jack? Why him?" Ianto rasped.
"The Master told us he was fixing the future," Martha remembered.
The Doctor sucked in his breath.
"No," the Doctor hissed. "He wouldn't dare."
Ianto flinched. It sounded like a snake coiled and poised to strike by his ear. Ianto glanced up over his shoulder.
The Doctor was staring at Saxon's picture; his eyes seemed to be burning with a dark fire that hurt to look at.
"Doctor?" Martha stammered. Even from afar, Martha caught the storm that crossed over the Doctor's expression.
The Doctor stood straighter behind Ianto. "The Master has gone back in time."
"Well obviously," Martha snorted. "He has the TAR—"
"No, no, no!" the Doctor shouted. Ianto jumped.
"Doctor?" Martha squeaked.
"He didn't just go back in time, he's gone back! He's changed history!"
Ianto's brow furrowed. "But isn't that always a consequence of time travel?"
The Doctor looked frenzied, his hands waving, his eyes wild. He went back and forth between the two. "Yes, yes, all time travel causes ripples in time and space, but overall events usually stay the way they should, anchored like road markers that steer time to its proper place. They don't change, they don't—"
"Doctor!" Martha huffed. "We can't keep up! I don't understand! You and I, we've been time traveling all this time, what's different about this?"
Ianto suddenly knew. His throat tightened. The room rocked under him and if he weren't already sitting, the urge to sit down would have folded his knees.
"He's doing it deliberately," Ianto whispered. His breath quickened. "You think…you think he went back in time, took Jack on purpose…to…to change history?"
The Doctor's face was like stone; his jaw clenched so tight, it looked like it hurt when he nodded once.
"The Master went back to take Jack, to corrupt his timeline…" The Doctor ran a hand through his brown hair. "Things are different now and the Master may be the only one who knows how different. Something happened that the Master wants to change and he thought by interfering with Jack's natural timeline, things will."
"He changed Jack's history," Ianto managed out. "So that means Jack might not belong here. He…" Ianto felt cold and empty.
"He might not have originally been with Torchwood at all," the Doctor concluded when Ianto couldn't finish. The look of pity the Doctor gave him was unbearable. Ianto turned back towards the laptop.
"This is something no Time Lord would ever do: interfering with someone's timeline."
Ianto's fingers trembled where they rested on the keyboard. He had always thought that things happened the way they should; Lisa had always teased his rather fatalistic view of life. But…was he not supposed to have met Jack Harkness?
The Doctor's voice had dropped to a low rumble, anger just barely below the surface. "The Master's gone too far. We were not gods. We don't do this."
"So what do we do now?" Martha sounded shocked, too.
The Doctor's right eye twitched. He returned back behind Ianto to stare at Saxon's beaming face.
"We stop him," the Doctor said, his words cold and brittle. "I stop him."
Act III
Additional Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
PS: To Walker and all you lot mining LJ, I have nothing here that would ever interest you. This is just a boring little LJ of a newbie TW writer wannabe. Nevertheless, the words are mine, meant lovingly for my friends out there, so BACK OFF! Please. :)
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, dark, angsty, disturbing imagery (a matter of reader's interpretation, though)
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are parallels to DW's "The Sound of Drums"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13,Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18. Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36, Ch 37 Act 1/9
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 37 "The Sound of Drums"
Act II: "Who'd call himself the Master?"
Downing Street, London
Present day…
Lucy Saxon—she still marveled at the whirlwind from autobiographer to marrying the subject she was writing about—trailed behind her husband with his entourage of press secretaries, policy assistants and aides as they entered Downing Street for the first time officially as PM and wife. She wore a hint of amusement on her lips when others paused to clap as her Harry strode by, smiling, nodding, and acknowledging the fanfare with his own secretive smile. Harry had been confident about the elections, swore by Archangel and sure enough, Harry won the special elections by a landslide.
But already, the vultures of government lined the corridors waiting.
"Finance report, sir."
"Military protocol, sir."
"EC directive, sir."
"Annual budget, sir."
"Policy recommendations."
Stack after stack they handed over folders and papers to her Harry with efficient, clipped rapid-fire words. Harry accepted each one with a look of mild tolerance and Lucy was half-tempted to take them and fling them back at their faces. She didn't, however, because Harry wouldn't approve of such a spectacle. What useless concerns to bother Harry with. Did they not realize it would be pointless in the end? Didn't they realize Harry was meant for bigger things?
Lucy stopped short behind her husband, outside the room where Harry would meet his cabinet for the first and last time.
It was with a sharp intake of breath that Harry turned around on his heels to her. He shared a smirk with Lucy.
"I'm so proud of you, Harry," Lucy murmured. It felt like her heart was bursting. She so wanted to call him by his other name, but it wasn't time. Harry said it wasn't time yet.
His eyes sparkled at her, always with more than he ever says and it drew her ever since she first met him. His lazy smile spread and he reached over to cup her cheek. Lucy leaned into his hand and thought she could feel him pouring into her through his tapping fingers. He pulled her in for a kiss. Someone watching from his entourage sighed wistfully.
Her joy, however, faltered when their lips met. Lucy could feel his mouth trembling minutely on her. Too soon, she thought in despair as she deepened their kiss to try and absorb the ever-growing hunger, the shakes away from Harry. She kept her hands from curling on his arms, from clawing his arms to keep him here and not go back to him.
When they parted, Lucy could see the strain in his eyes. The universe that lived forever in his gaze dimmed a little; like stars winking out. It frightened her. It looked like Utopia. Harry had taken her there. Everything she'd know had shattered and she had screamed and screamed non-stop in his ship for two days. Those poor souls. Their children. They were all waiting in the approaching empty dark. Harry promised it would never grow dark like that again. He would fix it; save them all. He promised.
"Bless," Harry murmured to her and gazed at her like he was seeing something or someone else. Lucy wanted to hold tight to his hand, but ever mindful of appearances—Harry detested too much drama from her—Lucy dropped her hands and just smiled at him. Harry met her eyes with the pledge; soon, his eyes read. Lucy had waited so long since their return from Utopia. She bided her time standing by Harry as he planned, mapped, then executed a plan Lucy barely comprehended. It didn't matter. He said it would fix things. That's all Lucy really needed to know.
Before Harry could enter the chamber to meet the cabinet, a young dark-skinned woman trotted up to him with the nervous manner of a schoolgirl.
"Sir, if you don't mind me asking," she stammered. It was amusing to see her dressed up in a copy of one of Lucy's old outfits. The paparazzi had printed countless pictures of Lucy during the elections and it seemed like all of London was mirroring her in all the fascination England was known for in regards to their celebrities. It had amused Harry to no end.
The girl was in a dark gray version of the Versace suit Lucy once wore during their public appearance at Westminster Abbey. "I'm sorry," the girl stuttered, "but it's all a bit new, what exactly do you want me to do?"
God, Harry was right. They were all such children.
"Oh, yes," Harry drawled, "what was it…" Harry pretended to give it some thought.
The young woman didn't seem to mind that Harry didn't appear to recall her name. In fact, she preened at the chance to introduce herself. "Tish, Letitia Jones. Tish."
Tish? Lucy fought back the urge to frown. Harry said it wasn't flattering when she did that.
"Well then, Tish." Harry considered the Jones girl with a calculating eye. He offered a smirk and a raised eyebrow. "You just stand there and look gorgeous."
Lucy chuckled under her breath and saw Harry glanced back to her, bemused. He turned back to the young woman, to the expectant faces gathered behind Jones.
"Well," Harry rumbled and he gave a little bow to his audience. "Here we go again."
Everyone laughed but only Harry truly knew why it was funny.
"Knock them dead, sir!" Someone cheered from the back just as Harry wrapped his hand on the knob.
Harry turned back to the crowd, at the young faces who followed him throughout the entire election like sheep blindly herding to slaughter. His smile was blinding.
"They won't know what hit them," Harry promised. He winked to her and to lovely, clueless Jones.
Everyone laughed and cheered as Harry threw open the door with the kind of flourish uniquely Harry. Lucy stared at his back as the door slowly closed.
"A glorious day again!" Lucy heard Harry state to the lined and annoyed faces of the cabinet. "Downing Street rebuilt…"
Lucy broke her gaze from the door and turned back to the Tish girl.
"Letitia Jones, is it?" Lucy inquired coolly.
"Tish, ma'am."
"Yes." The curve she forced her mouth into hurt. "Tish." Lucy turned quickly. Her smile dropped but no one was watching. "Come. We'll wait for the Prime Minister at our residence," Lucy said quite firmly and started walking.
Tish Jones had no choice but to follow but kept a respectable distance behind Lucy. That suited Lucy just fine. Harry was the one who had insisted she was necessary for whatever reason. She hoped it wasn't because Tish could hear the drumming, too. Lucy clasped her hands so they wouldn't ball into small fists.
"Mr. Saxon will come back to the residence first when he's done," Tish assumed more than asked because of course, everyone knew Harold Saxon was devoted to his wife. Tish sighed with the hint of romantic envy.
Lucy wanted to turn around and slap her but she just kept walking.
Somewhere in London…
"Home!" Martha cheered as she entered her flat. Martha tossed her front door key into a basket by the door.
Ianto barely had time to avoid the laundry rack by the door as he was steered into a brightly colored room by the solid grip on his elbow. The Doctor's thumb and index finger dug into his arm.
"Kitchen's over there, bathroom's…" When Martha realized no one was listening, she rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. "Never mind."
"What have you got?" the Doctor demanded. He gave the compact room only a brief glance. "Computer, laptop, anything."
"But we saw him on the screen!" Ianto argued. He eyed the door. How long would it take to get from here to Downing Street? "We know where he is!"
"Yes, but not where Jack is," the Doctor pointed out. The time traveler spun around, dismissing him as he waved his hands at Martha, rushing her along.
Snapping his mouth shut, Ianto glowered at the Doctor and tugged at his suit jacket—he must look like a sight now—and opened his mouth to say something then clamped his mouth shut again. Instead, he patted around his pockets until he found his mobile. Their jaunt through time had left it silent, but now, back in the 21st century, it was working again although ironically, it was still searching for a signal.
As soon as his mobile signaled it was ready, Ianto punched a number he knew by heart.
"Come on, come on," Ianto muttered. All he heard was the annoying dial tone.
The Doctor, who had been busy gesticulating to Martha, whipped his head around. "Who are you phoning?"
"Torchwood, but there's no reply." Ianto frowned to himself as he pulled the mobile away from his ear. "Where could they have gone?" He tried Owen's mobile as well. Nothing. Damn, damn, damn.
"You can't tell anyone we're here!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"Why not?" Ianto demanded. "Someone needs to do something and since you're so determined not to let it be me, then it should be them!"
"We don't want the Master finding out we're here!"
Ianto narrowed his eyes. "Are you insinuating that my friends would tell him?"
"No! But obviously he's very connected in this century."
"We can't stand by and do nothing!" Ianto gripped his mobile tight in his fist. God, the urge to punch him was starting to overpower everything else.
"And what were you planning to do when you find the Master?" the Doctor challenged.
Ianto paced because it was better than standing still, better than feeling so useless.
"You think you can walk right up to him and do what?" the Doctor continued.
"I don't know!" Ianto snapped. "Maybe a nice bullet to his hea—" Ianto's eyes widened when he pulled out something other than his weapon from his holster.
"There will be no more killing," the Doctor rumbled.
"You did this?" Ianto shook the banana at the time traveler.
The Doctor stared back, unfazed. "Of course I did."
"When did you—Where on earth did you find a banana at the end of the universe?" Ianto sputtered. "Give me back my gun!"
An eye blink. "No."
"You can't just take it!"
"But I just did."
"You—"
"Here you go," Martha announced, slipping in-between the two before the voices could escalate to something more violent. She passed over a laptop to the time traveler. "Any good?"
"It'll have to do," the Doctor said begrudgingly as he accepted it.
"Good?" Martha stressed, her hand on Ianto's chest. She stared up intently at Ianto. Martha refused to move, her hand planted on him like a vise.
"The Doctor will figure something out," Martha murmured. She patted Ianto's chest. "You just have to trust he'll do it."
Ianto stared at her. After a moment, he deflated. He tossed the banana onto her tiny counter and nodded slowly. He offered Martha a wan smile. Martha squeezed his left hand.
"Here, Torchwood, why don't you go do something more constructive than shooting guns," the Doctor said, gripping Ianto by the shoulders and sitting him down. "Let's find out more before we go run off blindly, eh?"
"Never stopped you before," Ianto grumbled but he obliged, glad to be doing something at least. Fingers dancing across the keyboard, he bit back a wistful remark about the computer. God, he missed their computers. Tosh had always obsessed over maintaining them. It spoiled them; everything felt too slow now outside Torchwood.
"There are loads of Saxon websites out there, he's been around for ages," Martha explained. She leaned over, trying to see between them. "There should be something about him somewhere."
"Checking," Ianto reported as he typed 'Harold Saxon' into a search box.
"I though you met him before? You didn't recognize him?" Martha asked as she peered over his shoulder. "He's been around for ages."
"I would have thought this would have caught Torchwood's attention," the Doctor muttered as he leaned over them to get a better look, "seeing he was an alien after all."
"We're not like that," Ianto seethed as he waited for the search results. He groaned to himself when the search engine came back with far too many results. Brilliant.
"Jack and I lost interest in politics since…since Canary Wharf." Ianto blinked rapidly as he stared at the blurring screen. "Everyone I knew died there and those we couldn't save…" Ianto cleared his throat.
"Let's just say London was not helpful," Ianto rasped, unable to keep his voice from cracking.
The Doctor got very quiet before he exhaled with a soft, "Ah."
Ianto thought he felt a warm hand settle on his back, but when he glanced up, the Doctor was looking intently on the screen.
"That's so weird," Martha marveled as she straightened and circled her room, "'cause the day after the election, that's only four days after I met you."
The Doctor grimaced. He scratched the back of his head. "We went flying all round the universe while he was here all the time."
"Jack was waiting and he'd been here. Right here," Ianto murmured. He swallowed as he clicked on the first link. He growled under his breath. It was just a fan page, tiled with paparazzi photos of him and his wife. Ianto nearly shut the laptop. The smirk plastered all over the screen grated him.
"You gonna tell us who he is?" Martha asked.
The Doctor was curt as he pointed to another link for Ianto to check. "He's a Time Lord."
"What about the rest of it?" Martha pressed. "I mean, who'd call himself the Master?" Martha drawled the last part mockingly.
Ianto snorted. "What kind of person calls himself the Doctor?"
"Same kind who calls himself Torchwood," the Doctor quipped and gave him a hearty pat on the head.
Ianto's head rocked forward at the head slap. He twisted around and glowered at the time traveler.
"You call me Torchwood," Ianto snapped.
The Doctor grinned. "And it was a good name too, yes? Jones and Jones would have been too confusing. Never know when I may need to shout out your name and two Jones would have really been too much. Can't have you both come running if I call. Agree? I thought so."
Ianto opened his mouth to say something. Instead, he shook his head and then just turned back to the laptop. He refused to turn back around as he sorted through the various news websites. Saxon was found everywhere with his wife. Ianto sat back, a little numb. How was this possible?
"But besides being a Time Lord," Martha insisted. "What else?"
Ianto could hear the quirky grin fade behind him. "That's all you need to know," the Doctor answered shortly. "Come on, show me Harold Saxon."
While site after site was pulled up, Ianto could hear Martha moving restlessly behind them. He jumped when something squawked as Martha checked her messages.
"…Martha, where are you? I've got this new job! You won't believe it, it's weird. They phoned me up out of the blue…"
"Oh, like it matters!" Martha grumbled and she shut her answering machine off with more force than necessary.
The Doctor didn't look over. He just pointed to one link.
"There. There! Try that one!"
"Would you like to try yourself?" Ianto grumbled. "It's easier when you're not hovering over me."
"I don't hover! You're too slow," the Doctor complained. "What is that? Five words a minute?"
"I don't tell you how to fly your time machine, don't tell me how to type!"
"Oi, are you two still at it?" Martha complained. "The Master could be at the end of the universe and back while you two have a go at it!"
Martha was right, of course. Ianto set his jaw and continued his typing. At the click, the screen turned black as a very modern looking website appeared. Saxon's smug portrait was pasted on the upper left corner. Ianto's right eye twitched. Ianto remembered that same arrogant expression in London, in Hartman's office.
One video popped up. Ianto blinked at Sharon Osbourne posing in the digital video.
"I'm voting Saxon. He can tick my box any day."
A few young rugby players beamed back on the next video. "Vote Saxon," they chorused. "Go Harry!"
"I think Mr. Saxon is exactly what this country needs…"
"Good Lord," Ianto murmured. It was too surreal. All those smiling faces endorsing that monster.
"The Master's created this whole…person…this…this Harold Saxon," the Doctor muttered.
"But that's just it," Martha spoke up as she sat on top of her desk. "He didn't feel like a made up person. I remember him. I'd heard about Harold Saxon before I met you!"
"If the Master had gone back in time, there's a good chance you probably did," the Doctor agreed as he read over Ianto's shoulder at the testimonials. The time traveler made a face at the passages he read.
"But what I don't understand," Ianto whispered as he studied one online article about Saxon launching the Archangel network. "After he stole the TARDIS, he must have gone straight back for Jack." Because of him. Ianto could feel a pricking at the corner of his eyes.
"Why Jack? Why him?" Ianto rasped.
"The Master told us he was fixing the future," Martha remembered.
The Doctor sucked in his breath.
"No," the Doctor hissed. "He wouldn't dare."
Ianto flinched. It sounded like a snake coiled and poised to strike by his ear. Ianto glanced up over his shoulder.
The Doctor was staring at Saxon's picture; his eyes seemed to be burning with a dark fire that hurt to look at.
"Doctor?" Martha stammered. Even from afar, Martha caught the storm that crossed over the Doctor's expression.
The Doctor stood straighter behind Ianto. "The Master has gone back in time."
"Well obviously," Martha snorted. "He has the TAR—"
"No, no, no!" the Doctor shouted. Ianto jumped.
"Doctor?" Martha squeaked.
"He didn't just go back in time, he's gone back! He's changed history!"
Ianto's brow furrowed. "But isn't that always a consequence of time travel?"
The Doctor looked frenzied, his hands waving, his eyes wild. He went back and forth between the two. "Yes, yes, all time travel causes ripples in time and space, but overall events usually stay the way they should, anchored like road markers that steer time to its proper place. They don't change, they don't—"
"Doctor!" Martha huffed. "We can't keep up! I don't understand! You and I, we've been time traveling all this time, what's different about this?"
Ianto suddenly knew. His throat tightened. The room rocked under him and if he weren't already sitting, the urge to sit down would have folded his knees.
"He's doing it deliberately," Ianto whispered. His breath quickened. "You think…you think he went back in time, took Jack on purpose…to…to change history?"
The Doctor's face was like stone; his jaw clenched so tight, it looked like it hurt when he nodded once.
"The Master went back to take Jack, to corrupt his timeline…" The Doctor ran a hand through his brown hair. "Things are different now and the Master may be the only one who knows how different. Something happened that the Master wants to change and he thought by interfering with Jack's natural timeline, things will."
"He changed Jack's history," Ianto managed out. "So that means Jack might not belong here. He…" Ianto felt cold and empty.
"He might not have originally been with Torchwood at all," the Doctor concluded when Ianto couldn't finish. The look of pity the Doctor gave him was unbearable. Ianto turned back towards the laptop.
"This is something no Time Lord would ever do: interfering with someone's timeline."
Ianto's fingers trembled where they rested on the keyboard. He had always thought that things happened the way they should; Lisa had always teased his rather fatalistic view of life. But…was he not supposed to have met Jack Harkness?
The Doctor's voice had dropped to a low rumble, anger just barely below the surface. "The Master's gone too far. We were not gods. We don't do this."
"So what do we do now?" Martha sounded shocked, too.
The Doctor's right eye twitched. He returned back behind Ianto to stare at Saxon's beaming face.
"We stop him," the Doctor said, his words cold and brittle. "I stop him."
Act III
Additional Notes: Many thanks to
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.PS: To Walker and all you lot mining LJ, I have nothing here that would ever interest you. This is just a boring little LJ of a newbie TW writer wannabe. Nevertheless, the words are mine, meant lovingly for my friends out there, so BACK OFF! Please. :)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:01 am (UTC)MISSED THIS!
But in all reality (which I try to avoid), hubby/twins/cats/etc comes first.
So where is the missing Jack?
What was the timeline that the Master screwed up?
Will Ianto ever get laid again?
Stay tune to Monday and we might get no answers but more questions!
YEA!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:18 am (UTC)Thank you. RL came in a 123 punch this week, ouch.
So where is the missing Jack?
Ohhh, he's coming back...:)
What was the timeline that the Master screwed up?
Basically the canon Jack we knew, except now they'll never know that Jack originally would have been with Torchwood anyway...
Will Ianto ever get laid again?
Hm...it would be tough to squeeze slash into this current line, but if people want I, I can find some way to...:)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:29 am (UTC)Ianto needs to sleep sometimes - right?
Ianto dreams - right?
Do people want slash - damn right! *grin*
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:02 pm (UTC)Yeah, but now he has company, an audience with DW and Martha. :)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-15 12:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-25 10:20 pm (UTC)Jack on the other hand tho...lol
no subject
Date: 2008-10-09 05:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 04:40 am (UTC)"…Martha, where are you? I've got this new job! You won't believe it, it's weird. They phoned me up out of the blue…"
"Oh, like it matters!" Martha grumbled and she had shut her answering machine off with more force than necessary.
Of course it matters!! Your sister's working for the Master, the big bad, the mean-but-hot-man-who-has-corrupted-Jack's-timeline!!! *pants* phew.... that's a mouthful...
I loved the Ianto snark in this chapter. He's much less snarky in the TV series... :pouts: I love Yanto!Snark. More please? :bats eyes:
Anyway. great chapter! Again my mind has been blown away by your fantastic writing. RTD should call you up and ask you to write an eppy! :)
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:08 pm (UTC)I wish! LOL. Thanks for the vote of confidence!
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 05:39 am (UTC)"And wouldn't you know it, Martha sighed. Taken as well. It was seriously feeling like a conspiracy."
*Giggles* Poor Martha.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:09 pm (UTC)But lucky us. -points icon- LOL.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 10:39 am (UTC)-runs like hell to act III-
This is somehow getting better and better.
no subject
Date: 2008-09-13 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-09-14 04:21 am (UTC)That should be biographer, an autobiography is written by the subject. (hence the 'auto')