Down Time Chapter 5a/5
Down Time Part 5a/5
An old friend of Jack’s shows up on Torchwood’s doorstep, but why is he in such bad shape?
Jack/Ianto, a little Jack/Doctor
Rated Teen (No worse than an episode of Torchwood)
Approx 12,000 words
Betaed by c_woodhaven . Any mistakes are my own.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
“I think I’d been alone for a little too long.” The Doctor sighed. “I didn’t find out if he had family or anything. I just took him.”
“Was he a good companion?” Jack asked.
“He was! You know how you said trouble follows me? Actually, several people have said that,” the Doctor added in a mutter.
Jack nodded.
“Richard seemed charmed. We went so many places, Jack. The first place he wanted to go was Woodstock, but I’d already been there. I hung out with Janice Joplin. She gave me my coat, you know.” The Doctor’s smile faltered.
“Where else did you go?” Jack asked, letting the Doctor tell things in his own time.
“Oh! We saw the opening night of Cats in London. We saw John Barrowman in Anything Goes. He reminded me of you, Jack. We watched an original cast showing of Spamalot. I had been looking for an excuse to hear Caruso sing again.” The Doctor trailed off, remembering.
“The boy liked show tunes?” Jack asked with a raised brow.
“Yes, Jack, Richard liked men, you know that’s never mattered one wit to me. Well, once I convinced him I wasn’t sexually interested.”
Jack raised his hands in surrender and didn’t push the issue.
“Everything was going so well.” The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. “Then he asked to go to the Ziegfeld Follies.”
Leaning forward, Jack asked, “What happened?”
“He was so eager to see them. Said it meant everything to him. So finally I agreed.” The Doctor looked at Jack with cold certainty “I should have listened to my instincts.”
Jack crushed the tide of anger he felt toward the young man who had hurt the Doctor so. The Time Lord didn’t need Jack’s rage right now, just his support.
The Doctor continued. “We watched the show and had a grand time. When he said he wanted to go backstage, I used the psychic paper and got us in. There was some kind of party going on; a birthday, I think. We were laughing and talking to everyone, and then he disappeared. Last I’d seen him he was talking to one of the magicians, I figured he was… you know.”
“Headed for a tryst,” Jack supplied.
“Yes. So I wasn’t too worried. Besides, W. C. Fields was a hoot! You ever meet him?”
“Never did. But Mae West! Wow!” Jack gestured with cupped hands before his chest, earning a glare from the Doctor.
++++
Richard interrupted the Doctor as he laughed loudly with a corpulent man with Richard vaguely recognized as someone famous. “Doctor?”
The Time Lord turned his smile on his companion. “Richard! Meet W. C, Fields, one of the funniest humans ever.”
“Hello,” Richard mumbled. He had no idea how such an ugly man could become famous. “Excuse us for a minute.”
Richard didn’t wait for Field’s reply as he pulled the Doctor aside and whispered in his ear before glancing in the direction of a smirking magician who was leaning against the far wall. The man was lean, dark haired and wearing a tuxedo. He was very much Richard’s type.
The Doctor followed Richard’s gaze, then surreptitiously pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned him. “He’s clean and human,” the Doctor said, straightening. “You know the rules. Get back here within an hour,” he said sternly. “I’m not in the mood to come chasing you again. You have your key?”
Richard patted his chest where his TARDIS key hung on a silver chain under his shirt. “Yeah, right here.” Richard paused and looked the Doctor in the eye. “Look, it was modern of you to bring me here. So far it’s been everything I’d hoped. Later, Doc!” Richard ran off, grinning, to his newest conquest.
The Doctor frowned at Richard as he took the magician’s arm, trying to pin down the tickle of unease that had been nipping him all day.
“Children,” Mr. Fields drawled when the Doctor joined him once more. “Can’t make ‘em mind, can’t beat ‘em with a shovel.”
“Well, I’m all out of shovels, so I’ll keep trying patience. And the occasional malted milk shake.” The Doctor, putting aside his unease for now, grinned and picked up his conversation with the famous man and his friends.
More than an hour had passed, but Richard still had not made an appearance. The Doctor was beginning to worry. His concern peeked when the magician walked by with a sullen look on his face. The Time Lord left W. C. Fields mid-joke and accosted the performer. “Where’s Richard?” he demanded.
“Who? Oh, your pretty blonde bit?” the magician sneered. “He stood me up. Gave me a peck on the cheek and took off through the stage door.”
“Where was he going?” The Doctor’s feeling of dread sharpened. He grabbed the performer by his shoulders, rumpling the silk of his suit. “Did he say where?” the Doctor shouted.
“Get off me! He just said he’d be right back, that he was close to getting it now.”
The Doctor was out the stage door and into the alley before the man stopped talking. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, scanning for the TARDIS key. “Come on, come on,” he coaxed, turning in a circle. The device beeped with a strong signal and he took off at a run, his coat flapping through the grimy streets.
The trail lead to a closed warehouse door no more than a couple of blocks from the theatre. A muffled scream tore the chill night air. “Richard,” he breathed, despairing. The Doctor dashed along the high brick wall, toward the alley. Once he rounded the corner around the corner, the Time Lord made a bee line to the rusting fire escape.
He quickly ascended the ladder to the first landing. He silently made short work of the window latch and climbed onto the empty catwalk inside.
The Doctor realized Richard had stumbled into some sort of illegal distillery operation. Barrels were arranged in neat rows, framing a massive arrangement of tubes and funnels in the center. Five armed ruffians were scattered about the space, including one just inside the door.
All this he took in at a glance. The focus of his attention was Richard was tied to a chair below him. Blood was streaming from his forehead, nose, and where his left ear had been. His hearts skipped a beat in tandem
“Now tell us who sent you,” growled one man as he leaned over Richard. Light glittered off of the gold plating on several of his teeth. “How’d ya know we were here?”
“My Uncle Stumpy told me!” Richard slurred.
“Stumpy don’t have a nephew!” Gold Teeth nodded to a man in a battered bowler hat who twisted one of Richard’s fingers until it snapped. Richard howled.
The Doctor’s rage boiled. Silently, he made his way along the catwalk to a toolbox someone had abandoned at the top of the stairs. The Doctor nodded to himself. He appreciated a good toolbox. He opened the lid and collected a handful of small objects.
“Oi!” He shouted, descending the stairs.
Three guns swung in his direction. His hand was a blur as he swiftly threw metal bolts at the men. Each one struck hard with exact precision, causing the men to drop their guns. Larry, Moe and Curly each nursed broken hands from his barrage.
“Let the boy go. Now!” he commanded.
The Doctor easily vaulted over the railing, dropping the last fifteen feet as he dodged bullets from Gold Teeth and Bowler Hat’s guns. He bounced up on his feet and dispatched two more bolts. The guns clattered and skidded away.
“Get ‘em!” shouted Gold Teeth.
"Hold on, Richard!" the Doctor called.
With difficulty, Richard peered around through eyes that were nearly swollen shut. "Doctor?" he slurred.
"You know this mook?" Gold Teeth said angrily, tugging sharply on Richard’s remaining ear.
Richard drew a breath to scream. Before he let it all out, a bolt hit his torturer sharply between the eyes and he crumpled to the floor.
“I said to leave him alone! Last chance!” The two closest men, the one’s the Doctor had dubbed Larry and Bowler Hat, didn’t pause in charging the Doctor. They, too were dispatched; neatly felled with bolts to the head.
The Doctor reached Richard just before the remaining two thugs. Moe reached for the Doctor, his arms outstretched in an attempt to grab the agile Time Lord. The Doctor, using a Judo throw he’d learned from the monks of Telazian 5, flipped his opponent into the still. The acrid fumes of fermented mash permeated the air.
Only the sentry remained, apparently a little more intelligent than his now unconscious companions. He held length of pipe in his good hand and wearily circled the Doctor, tracking the alcohol across the floor.
“Come on, little man. Let’s finish this,” he growled.
“No time to play,” the Doctor stated. He moved between the man and Richard. Raising the sonic screwdriver, he swiftly used it to unravel the knots holding his companion.
“I’m so very sorry, Richard. Hold on.” he murmured.
The Doctor twisted the screwdriver, changing the setting from rope to metal. He pointed it at a barrel beside the remaining goon. “Last chance. Run.”
The sentry just looked at the device scornfully. “You think that scares me.”
His eyes were the flinty cold of the oncoming storm “It should.”
The oscillating whine started up and the barrel’s bands burst, striking the man. There was a rasp of metal on metal as the sentry was thrown across the room, leaving sparks in his wake as his pipe was dragged across the stone floor. A whomp filled the room as the barrels burst into flame.
The Doctor picked up Richard and ran to the door. His last glimpse of the warehouse was a wave of alcohol washing away the pool of Richard’s blood as it rushed toward the flames.
Heedless of anyone in his path, the Doctor dashed the three blocks to the TARDIS. Once inside he kneeled on the grating beside Richard, holding him in his arms. The young man was covered in blood and stank of smoke and pain.
“Hold on, Richard. I can get you to a hospital.” The Doctor reached up to the console, only to have Richard stop him.
His young companion held his hand. “Too late. They… they worked me over good.”
“Richard,” the Doctor breathed. “I should…”
“Not your fault,” Richard coughed and blood flecked the Doctor’s coat. “I’m sorry, Doc. It’s been…. fun.”
To Chapter 5b & Epilogue
.
An old friend of Jack’s shows up on Torchwood’s doorstep, but why is he in such bad shape?
Jack/Ianto, a little Jack/Doctor
Rated Teen (No worse than an episode of Torchwood)
Approx 12,000 words
Betaed by c_woodhaven . Any mistakes are my own.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4
“I think I’d been alone for a little too long.” The Doctor sighed. “I didn’t find out if he had family or anything. I just took him.”
“Was he a good companion?” Jack asked.
“He was! You know how you said trouble follows me? Actually, several people have said that,” the Doctor added in a mutter.
Jack nodded.
“Richard seemed charmed. We went so many places, Jack. The first place he wanted to go was Woodstock, but I’d already been there. I hung out with Janice Joplin. She gave me my coat, you know.” The Doctor’s smile faltered.
“Where else did you go?” Jack asked, letting the Doctor tell things in his own time.
“Oh! We saw the opening night of Cats in London. We saw John Barrowman in Anything Goes. He reminded me of you, Jack. We watched an original cast showing of Spamalot. I had been looking for an excuse to hear Caruso sing again.” The Doctor trailed off, remembering.
“The boy liked show tunes?” Jack asked with a raised brow.
“Yes, Jack, Richard liked men, you know that’s never mattered one wit to me. Well, once I convinced him I wasn’t sexually interested.”
Jack raised his hands in surrender and didn’t push the issue.
“Everything was going so well.” The Doctor ran a hand through his hair. “Then he asked to go to the Ziegfeld Follies.”
Leaning forward, Jack asked, “What happened?”
“He was so eager to see them. Said it meant everything to him. So finally I agreed.” The Doctor looked at Jack with cold certainty “I should have listened to my instincts.”
Jack crushed the tide of anger he felt toward the young man who had hurt the Doctor so. The Time Lord didn’t need Jack’s rage right now, just his support.
The Doctor continued. “We watched the show and had a grand time. When he said he wanted to go backstage, I used the psychic paper and got us in. There was some kind of party going on; a birthday, I think. We were laughing and talking to everyone, and then he disappeared. Last I’d seen him he was talking to one of the magicians, I figured he was… you know.”
“Headed for a tryst,” Jack supplied.
“Yes. So I wasn’t too worried. Besides, W. C. Fields was a hoot! You ever meet him?”
“Never did. But Mae West! Wow!” Jack gestured with cupped hands before his chest, earning a glare from the Doctor.
++++
Richard interrupted the Doctor as he laughed loudly with a corpulent man with Richard vaguely recognized as someone famous. “Doctor?”
The Time Lord turned his smile on his companion. “Richard! Meet W. C, Fields, one of the funniest humans ever.”
“Hello,” Richard mumbled. He had no idea how such an ugly man could become famous. “Excuse us for a minute.”
Richard didn’t wait for Field’s reply as he pulled the Doctor aside and whispered in his ear before glancing in the direction of a smirking magician who was leaning against the far wall. The man was lean, dark haired and wearing a tuxedo. He was very much Richard’s type.
The Doctor followed Richard’s gaze, then surreptitiously pulled out his sonic screwdriver and scanned him. “He’s clean and human,” the Doctor said, straightening. “You know the rules. Get back here within an hour,” he said sternly. “I’m not in the mood to come chasing you again. You have your key?”
Richard patted his chest where his TARDIS key hung on a silver chain under his shirt. “Yeah, right here.” Richard paused and looked the Doctor in the eye. “Look, it was modern of you to bring me here. So far it’s been everything I’d hoped. Later, Doc!” Richard ran off, grinning, to his newest conquest.
The Doctor frowned at Richard as he took the magician’s arm, trying to pin down the tickle of unease that had been nipping him all day.
“Children,” Mr. Fields drawled when the Doctor joined him once more. “Can’t make ‘em mind, can’t beat ‘em with a shovel.”
“Well, I’m all out of shovels, so I’ll keep trying patience. And the occasional malted milk shake.” The Doctor, putting aside his unease for now, grinned and picked up his conversation with the famous man and his friends.
More than an hour had passed, but Richard still had not made an appearance. The Doctor was beginning to worry. His concern peeked when the magician walked by with a sullen look on his face. The Time Lord left W. C. Fields mid-joke and accosted the performer. “Where’s Richard?” he demanded.
“Who? Oh, your pretty blonde bit?” the magician sneered. “He stood me up. Gave me a peck on the cheek and took off through the stage door.”
“Where was he going?” The Doctor’s feeling of dread sharpened. He grabbed the performer by his shoulders, rumpling the silk of his suit. “Did he say where?” the Doctor shouted.
“Get off me! He just said he’d be right back, that he was close to getting it now.”
The Doctor was out the stage door and into the alley before the man stopped talking. He pulled out his sonic screwdriver, scanning for the TARDIS key. “Come on, come on,” he coaxed, turning in a circle. The device beeped with a strong signal and he took off at a run, his coat flapping through the grimy streets.
The trail lead to a closed warehouse door no more than a couple of blocks from the theatre. A muffled scream tore the chill night air. “Richard,” he breathed, despairing. The Doctor dashed along the high brick wall, toward the alley. Once he rounded the corner around the corner, the Time Lord made a bee line to the rusting fire escape.
He quickly ascended the ladder to the first landing. He silently made short work of the window latch and climbed onto the empty catwalk inside.
The Doctor realized Richard had stumbled into some sort of illegal distillery operation. Barrels were arranged in neat rows, framing a massive arrangement of tubes and funnels in the center. Five armed ruffians were scattered about the space, including one just inside the door.
All this he took in at a glance. The focus of his attention was Richard was tied to a chair below him. Blood was streaming from his forehead, nose, and where his left ear had been. His hearts skipped a beat in tandem
“Now tell us who sent you,” growled one man as he leaned over Richard. Light glittered off of the gold plating on several of his teeth. “How’d ya know we were here?”
“My Uncle Stumpy told me!” Richard slurred.
“Stumpy don’t have a nephew!” Gold Teeth nodded to a man in a battered bowler hat who twisted one of Richard’s fingers until it snapped. Richard howled.
The Doctor’s rage boiled. Silently, he made his way along the catwalk to a toolbox someone had abandoned at the top of the stairs. The Doctor nodded to himself. He appreciated a good toolbox. He opened the lid and collected a handful of small objects.
“Oi!” He shouted, descending the stairs.
Three guns swung in his direction. His hand was a blur as he swiftly threw metal bolts at the men. Each one struck hard with exact precision, causing the men to drop their guns. Larry, Moe and Curly each nursed broken hands from his barrage.
“Let the boy go. Now!” he commanded.
The Doctor easily vaulted over the railing, dropping the last fifteen feet as he dodged bullets from Gold Teeth and Bowler Hat’s guns. He bounced up on his feet and dispatched two more bolts. The guns clattered and skidded away.
“Get ‘em!” shouted Gold Teeth.
"Hold on, Richard!" the Doctor called.
With difficulty, Richard peered around through eyes that were nearly swollen shut. "Doctor?" he slurred.
"You know this mook?" Gold Teeth said angrily, tugging sharply on Richard’s remaining ear.
Richard drew a breath to scream. Before he let it all out, a bolt hit his torturer sharply between the eyes and he crumpled to the floor.
“I said to leave him alone! Last chance!” The two closest men, the one’s the Doctor had dubbed Larry and Bowler Hat, didn’t pause in charging the Doctor. They, too were dispatched; neatly felled with bolts to the head.
The Doctor reached Richard just before the remaining two thugs. Moe reached for the Doctor, his arms outstretched in an attempt to grab the agile Time Lord. The Doctor, using a Judo throw he’d learned from the monks of Telazian 5, flipped his opponent into the still. The acrid fumes of fermented mash permeated the air.
Only the sentry remained, apparently a little more intelligent than his now unconscious companions. He held length of pipe in his good hand and wearily circled the Doctor, tracking the alcohol across the floor.
“Come on, little man. Let’s finish this,” he growled.
“No time to play,” the Doctor stated. He moved between the man and Richard. Raising the sonic screwdriver, he swiftly used it to unravel the knots holding his companion.
“I’m so very sorry, Richard. Hold on.” he murmured.
The Doctor twisted the screwdriver, changing the setting from rope to metal. He pointed it at a barrel beside the remaining goon. “Last chance. Run.”
The sentry just looked at the device scornfully. “You think that scares me.”
His eyes were the flinty cold of the oncoming storm “It should.”
The oscillating whine started up and the barrel’s bands burst, striking the man. There was a rasp of metal on metal as the sentry was thrown across the room, leaving sparks in his wake as his pipe was dragged across the stone floor. A whomp filled the room as the barrels burst into flame.
The Doctor picked up Richard and ran to the door. His last glimpse of the warehouse was a wave of alcohol washing away the pool of Richard’s blood as it rushed toward the flames.
Heedless of anyone in his path, the Doctor dashed the three blocks to the TARDIS. Once inside he kneeled on the grating beside Richard, holding him in his arms. The young man was covered in blood and stank of smoke and pain.
“Hold on, Richard. I can get you to a hospital.” The Doctor reached up to the console, only to have Richard stop him.
His young companion held his hand. “Too late. They… they worked me over good.”
“Richard,” the Doctor breathed. “I should…”
“Not your fault,” Richard coughed and blood flecked the Doctor’s coat. “I’m sorry, Doc. It’s been…. fun.”
To Chapter 5b & Epilogue
.