Fic: A Storm is Warning in the Skies 2/3
Title: A Storm is Warning in the Skies
Author: weaselett
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Pairing/Character: girl!Ianto (Iona Jones), Nine
Summary: Pre-series for both New!Who and Torchwood. Iona Jones meets The Doctor and takes up his offer to go travelling and it isn't quite what she expected.
Warnings: Vague possible background spoilers for Torchwood COE
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who and no profit is being made from this fic.
Part Two.
Iona stood on the cliff top, eying the sea, shivering in her hugely inadequate outfit of choice. She really needed to stop taking The Doctor’s word as gospel, he was wrong far too often and she kept getting caught unprepared. This was their fifth trip since the now infamous encounter on the xenophobic planet.
“When exactly are we?” Iona yelled, struggling to be heard over the wind, faintly amused by the fact that even he was struggling to stay upright.
“1878.”
Iona waited a beat, hoping that he would expand upon that particular statement, before giving up, The Doctor was in love with vague and mysterious statements, just as much as he was in love with his own superiority at times. “Where are we?”
The Doctor grinned, motioning at their surroundings, “The Isle of Arran, Scotland.”
Iona blinked, taking a moment to be thankful that they hadn’t ended up on Iona, he would have spent far too much of the time commenting on it if they had and too little being concerned by whatever near disaster they had walked into the middle of. Still, a Scottish island over a hundred years before she was born wasn’t terrible; she’d never even been to Scotland in her own time anyway.
“Tell me, Miss Jones, what do you know about the Isle of Arran?” The Doctor questioned, still grinning.
“It has the only nineteen hole golf course in the world?” Iona said, vaguely remembering having read that somewhere.
The Doctor’s grin slipped, just a little, with that statement, which she decided, counted as a win. He really shouldn’t ask her stupid questions expecting a decent, meaningful answer. Especially not when he knew full well that she’d only left Cardiff twelve times in her whole life prior meeting him and ten of those times she hadn’t even made it out of Wales.
“Stone circles.” The Doctor said after a moment, nodding in land, “Whole lot of them.”
“Made by aliens?”
The Doctor rolled his eyes, “No, humans, very bright, very ingenious for their time, humans. Though some of the ones elsewhere were made by aliens.”
“Right.” Iona nodded, putting that statement down as yet another leading comment that she would never completely understand. She looked down at her clothes, worn jeans and a purple vest top over a brown shirt, wincing. Somehow she doubted the locals would be all that impressed with her if she started wandering around dressed as she was.
“I think maybe I should get changed.”
The Doctor eyed her outfit, “Might be an idea yeah.”
Iona rolled her eyes and muttered a few choice remakes about his ancestry under her breath as she jogged back over to the TARDIS, hoping that the wardrobe room would have something that she could wear to suit the situation, not that it ever didn’t, she just wondered sometimes if there was a limit to its magical abilities. That or maybe The Doctor was always picking up girls of about the same size. But she wasn’t going to touch that thought.
Twenty minutes later Iona ambled back out of the TARDIS, dressed more appropriately in a long dress and working boots, her hair tucked up in a bun and a shawl drawn around her shoulders to keep in the warmth.
“Took you long enough.” The Doctor commented, standing up from his perch on the edge of the cliff and brushing himself down idly.
“Well at least I’m not going to get us shot or anything now.” Iona threw back, eyeing The Doctor’s own, unchanged attire, “Though you’re still going to draw a few looks.”
“No, they’ll just hear my accent and decide it must be an English thing.” The Doctor grinned triumphantly, clearly proud of the fact that no matter where they went, he had an answer for everything.
“Right.” It wasn’t worth pointing out that it was more likely that they’d just decide he was a bit wrong in the head and not worth the effort of a correction. It pretty much meant the same thing anyway.
The Doctor kept grinning, offering Iona his arm, “Come on, it’s a little bit of a walk, but it'll be worth it, promise.”
Iona snorted, shaking her head, but taking his arm anyway. She was getting used to his oddities.
A bit of a walk turned out to be a few miles, over rather variable terrain. Thankfully though, it remained dry at least, something that Iona knew was fortunate. Rain was one of those things that was common place wherever you went in the British Isles, or so the tales went.
The view though, more than made up for the walk, just as The Doctor had promised, though if she hadn’t been as big a fan of scenery as she was he’d probably have been facing a rebellion. Iona stood on the rise overlooking the moor land and its collection of stone circles, watching The Doctor as he explored, his grin impossibly wide.
He was an alien, who could travel through space and time. He could go back in time to when these circles were being built, talk to the people who built them, maybe even help them build them, yet he seemed to love just being here, seeing the stones as they were now. Just like any tourist from her time.
Iona smiled, shaking her head. She could imagine what people would say if they knew that she’d up and left with a strange alien man who quite literally never stayed in one place; that and a thing for danger.
“Iona, I’m just off over there, don’t you go wandering off.” The Doctor motioned towards a stand of trees to the east, where, if his interest was anything to go by, there was probably something even more fascinating hidden and Iona signalled her understadning before she moved down the rise towards the circles.
She sat down on one side of one of the larger stones, where it was sheltered from the wind and a bit warmer for it. She was happy to leave the energetic exploring bit to him; he seemed to like it better that way sometimes anyway.
“There, you see, perfectly capable of spending more than an hour somewhere without doom ensuing.” The Doctor said, a little over an hour later, as he lent against Iona’s chosen stone, his shoes mud laden from his little wander.
Iona groaned, “You couldn’t have waited until we were back at the TARDIS before saying that?”
The Doctor rolled his eyes, “So pessimistic you.”
“With good reason.” Iona said as she stood, taking a moment to brush herself down before she moved around the stone towards the path that they’d used earlier.
“We could go find that golf course.” The Doctor said, patting the stone fondly as he moved to catch up with Iona.
“Does it even exist yet?” Iona questioned, not sure of the answer herself. She’d never really understood the attraction of golf.
The Doctor shrugged, “Dunno, we could still check though, discover the answer.”
Iona raised an eyebrow, “Because knowing whether a golf course existed yet would be such an interesting piece of information.”
“Oh yeah, one day in the future, you’ll be sat in a pub somewhere, doing one of those quizzes with your mates and the winning question will be ‘when was the nineteen hole golf course on Arran built’.” The Doctor stopped frowning, seriously considering his own question for a moment before he shook his head, “Anyway, that question will come up and, if it does, you’ll regret not finding out for yourself.”
“Or, I could look it up on the internet when I next have access to it.”
“Absolutely no sense of history you.”
Iona rolled her eyes, “Perfect sense of history, just no interest on the existence or non-existence of golf courses in particular eras. And, it’s getting dark.”
“So it is.” The Doctor stilled once more, craning his head back to look up at the sky. “Give it an hour or so and you’ll see more stars in the sky than you ever have before, on Earth that is.”
Iona snorted, “I come from Wales Doctor, I’ve been to places just as remote as this on holiday, seen all those stars clearer than you ever can in Cardiff or Newport.”
“Oh, but there’s a whole century of industrial pollution between then and now, makes all the difference, you'll see.”
“Won’t the view be even better back at the TARDIS?” Iona pressed, starting to shiver as the day grew cooler, the breeze that bit more chilly.
The Doctor smiled, all too aware of Iona’s ulterior motives, “Come on then.”
He started off again, at a quicker pace, making it as far as the top of the rise before he stopped; turning back towards the circles. Men’s voices drifted to them on the breeze, coming from the direction of The Doctor’s hidden circle, along with the desperate sounding bleating of a sheep.
“Doctor.” Iona questioned, keeping her voice low, a sense of dread building in her stomach. She’d known something would happen to ruin the peace, it almost always did with The Doctor, it was one of the reasons that she’d taken to only wearing practical shoes, no matter where they were.
“Strange.” The Doctor said, crouching down just on the other side of the rise, just out of sight of the approaching men. Iona hesitated for a moment before following suit, inwardly cursing him as she did so.
“This isn’t going to end well is it?”
The Doctor grinned, “Nope.”
Iona sighed, closing her eyes and burying her face in the grass.
Iona squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to throw up, wincing as the men in the centre of the circle of stones and blazing torches cheered; the sheep’s cries of terror ending just as abruptly as its companion’s had.
“Very strange.” The Doctor muttered from beside her, gaze fixed on the now dancing men.
“I realize there are plenty of people, even in my time, who believe that the Scottish, Welsh and Irish are still into animal sacrifice, but I didn’t think anyone actually was.” Iona said, voice low, watching the men with more than a little wariness. It wasn’t all that long ago that she’d been a sacrifice herself, an experience she hoped to never repeat, and if anything she felt more affinity with the sheep than the men.
“You’re right, they’re not, well besides a few odd people here and there, they’re not.” The Doctor agreed, frowning at the continuing festivities.
“Great.” Iona muttered, silently wondering if it was too late to just get up and leg it back to the TARDIS. But then, she didn’t have a key, so she’d just be stuck waiting for The Doctor. Better to stay with him, even if that did mean possible bodily harm and the threat of mortal peril.
The Doctor was grinning again, eyes glittering with excitement and suddenly Iona wasn’t so sure that this would end well for the men in the circle, or whatever they were, either. “They’re making sacrifices to an ancient God, only it’s not one that anyone on Earth ever worshipped, which means, whoever these people are, they don’t belong here.”
“So, what, we talk to them, find out where they’re from and take them home?”
The Doctor seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded, “Something like that, yeah, so long as they stick to just sheep.”
Iona shuddered, not liking the under current to his voice, he knew something that she didn’t. Something that he wouldn’t tell her, even if she pressed him. Not that she was sure that she really wanted to know whatever it was, especially as she had no doubt that whatever it was, it was unpleasant.
Iona’s eyes widened, her scream muffled by the hand over her mouth. Damnit, she’d been so close to getting away, how hadn’t she seen him hiding in the brush? So much for getting help to rescue The Doctor, though on an island like this, she probably would have been hard put to find someone who wasn’t involved in this whole mess.
“Hush lass, I’m not going to hurt you.” The man whispered, pulling her back into the brush, out of sight of the group of men who’d been chasing her. “I’m going to let you go, but don’t scream now, or they’ll find the pair of us, you understand?”
Iona swallowed, giving him an exaggerated head nod of understanding, hoping that he was telling the truth, not just lying to get her to go along a little easier. Not that she was much of a burden to a man of his size.
“There now.” The man offered her a reassuring smile, all crooked yellow teeth, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. He looked every bit the weathered young farmer.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
The man raised an eyebrow, eying her, making it clear that he was wondering exactly the same thing, “My name’s Lachlan McDonald, if I may have yours miss?”
“Iona Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr McDonald.” Iona answered automatically, even as she mocked herself. Polite even in the face of danger, her father would be proud.
He chuckled, shaking his head, “Call me Lachlan, my da’s Mr McDonald. Besides, under the circumstances, seems we may as well be working off first names.”
Iona smiled, offering the expected formal confirmation, “Best you call me Iona then.”
He nodded, turning solemn as he glanced back in the direction of the circles, to where The Doctor was probably even now being tied up by the men who’d caught him. “Strange things been happening of late on the island, been a worry to us all.” He said, obviously testing the waters; seeing how much Iona knew.
“Strange things?
“Aye, sheep going missing, not that there’s many of them as it is, not all that much sheep grazing around, plus a few of the villagers have been acting strangely. Most of us just thought it was people getting uppity though, times are changing and all.”
Iona nodded, vaguely understanding what he meant. It was one thing reading about things in history books; it was a whole other matter actually seeing them happen. “You think it’s something more sinister though?”
He nodded again grimly, “Been a few people gone missing now, none of ‘em fishermen or likely to have gone on the ferry, one of my neighbours found a, body, yesterday as well. Not many people die of anything but natural causes on the island.”
Iona winced, she got the impression that it hadn’t been a whole body that’d been found, but Lachlan was being sensitive to her feminine qualities; which was something that was very likely to start annoying the hell out of her very soon.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment, taking in her appearance, before he spoke again, still keeping his voice low, even now that the men had moved on, “Look, lass, this isn’t the place for you.”
Iona gritted her teeth, silently cursing that fact that she was in the nineteenth century and a girl. The Doctor needed her help and she intended to give him it, only now she was going to have to do so while trying to convince a nineteenth century man that she could handle herself perfectly well, thank you very much.
“They’ve got my," she hesitated, seartching for a way to describe her relationship with The Doctor, one that wouldn't give Lachlan the wrong impression, "travelling companion Mr McDonald and I have every intention of helping him get free of them.” She gave him a look daring him to question her, hoping that she was coming across as haughty enough that he’d decide it wasn’t worth the effort to correct her, or better yet, that he’d decide that she could handle herself.
He sighed, looking put upon in a way that suggested that she’d just done something that reminded him of his mother; never a good thing in her experience. “It’s dangerous Miss Jones, those men are cold hearted murderers. You’d be better leaving it to me and mine.”
Iona raised an eyebrow, “No offence, Mr McDonald, but it looks to me like you’re acting alone. Surely you would appreciate an extra pair of eyes, even if they do happen to belong to a woman?”
He hesitated for a long moment, seemingly gauging her intention before he sagged a little, “Very well then, if you’ll not be convinced otherwise. Just be sure to remember the danger.”
Iona nodded, biting her lip to keep from making a sarcastic remark. She’d already been more than a little forward.
He motioned for her to follow him, “Your companion should be safe for now. They seem to like it to be dark when they conduct their business. My farm’s not far from here, best we head there and have a plan prepared for dusk.”
The McDonald’s land, it turned out, bordered the land the circles were on, stretching to the coast and a few miles north of where Iona had run into Lachlan. The farmhouse its self sat on top of a small hill, overlooking the sea, perched just above another stone circle, which sat on a small plateau part way up the hillside. Lachlan’s father, Robert; though he insisted on Bobby; had been the one to send Lachlan to investigate the goings on at the circles.
“Time was,” Bobby said, “worst that happened on the island was a lad getting cursed for moving one of them stones.”
The more Iona listened to the two men talk, the more she started to suspect that they were speaking something other than English, probably some form of Gaelic, but she couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t ask them, not when she was clearly speaking to them in the same language, nor could she ask The Doctor, as he was presently otherwise occupied. She’d just have a deal with it, along with everything else.
“Cursed?”
Bobby nodded solemnly, “There used to be another circle, to the north of us, big stones like them on the moor, just the two stones of it left now though. Some poor fellow’s wife decided it was a good lot of stone and bid him use it in building their new house. He managed it too, hauled down five of the stones and got ‘em up the hill, knocked ‘em to pieces and used them as part of the house facing.
The cost weren’t worth it though, no matter how pretty it looked. Cost them both of their sons and himself his life, so it did. Cliff collapsed on one of the boys, the other drowned out on the waters on a clear day with his da. Left the wife no one but herself.” He shook his head sadly.
Iona winced, she wasn’t hugely superstitious herself, but she could understand why something like that might drive a person to be.
“Here you go love.” Lachlan’s mother Mary, a homely old soul who clearly ran the household, trundled back into the room, pushing a tea trolley, handing Iona a cup and saucer before taking her own and leaving the boys to help themselves. “Don’t believe everything he tells you, I’ve heard near twelve versions of that tale.”
“Thank you for the tea Mrs McDonald.” Iona smiled, hiding it politely behind her cup as she took a sip of tea. Mary McDonald went a long way to explaining why Lachlan had taken her own behaviour in his stride as well as he had.
“Be that as it may, no good ever comes of messing with those stones.” Bobby continued, undeterred by his wife.
“It is a terrible thing, all these people vanishing like they are.” Mary allowed, throwing her son a concerned glance. “Doesn’t make any sense neither, time was, David Duffy wouldn’t hurt a fly, now here you are, saying he’s one of them taking off with people and murdering them for no good reason.”
“Hmmmm.” Bobby hummed his agreement, taking a slurp of his highly sweetened tea. How exactly he could even taste the tea through the five sugar cubes Iona didn’t know.
“I saw him with my own eyes, plain as day.” Lachlan replied, shaking his head, clearly as disturbed by it as his mother was.
“They took your travelling companion?” Mary turned her attention to her guest, gaze sympathetic.
Iona nodded, taking another sip of tea before she answered, “We were visiting the circles, he’s always been interested in things like that. He wandered off to look at that far circle, the one in that grove of trees? We were just leaving when they jumped him, just like that.
It was dark and I was a few yards ahead of him, so I thought they hadn’t seen me, so I was trying to get away to find help, only they caught sight of me just as I made it to the path.”
Lachlan nodded his agreement, “I caught her running past that clump of trees by the stream, lucky I did as well. They were almost on her.”
“Very fortunate.” Mary agreed solemnly, reaching out to pat Iona on the knee gently, “You poor thing, getting dragged out to this soggy, windy island by that man of yours then getting attacked.”
“I owe your son a debt, ma’am.” Iona managed a weak smile, resisting the urge to correct the woman. She’d just have to let them think whatever they wanted to. Better that than correct them, especially as she had no doubt that at some point there would be a conversation with the ferryman who would inform the nice Mrs McDonald that he’d had no such passengers as the ones she was describing.
“You’ll have to get back there at dusk, if you’re to rescue Miss Jones’ man.” Bobby said, giving his son a pointed look that Iona decided to ignore. She had no one else to turn to, so she’d put up with some meaningful looks between the two men, knowing that their ideas weren’t going to get them anywhere.
Lachlan nodded, “I figure I’ll go in there, yelling up a storm, let Miss Jones, small thing she is, sneak in and cut her man free.”
Iona blinked, startled by how simple his plan was, “That’s it?”
“Simple’s always best lass.” Bobby replied sagely as he poured himself another cup of tea.
“There’s a ruin on the moor, not far from the circles, once you’ve got your man free, it’d be the best place for you to head there. I’ll finish up my part then make my way around to you.” Lachlan concluded, before standing and walking over to the sideboard that took up most of the far wall, retrieving a box of bullets from a draw, “And if all else fails, I’ll have the old gun to scare them off with.”
Iona’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. There wasn’t really anything that she could say to that really. She was just going to have to hope that rescuing The Doctor didn’t get her or Lachlan killed and that once he was rescued, The Doctor would know what to do.
Iona winced, sawing at the ropes that were keeping The Doctor pressed against the stone, fighting to stay focused on the task at hand instead of looking up as a man cried out. Lachlan could take care of himself, he’d be fine and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it if Iona got them caught because she was concerned for him.
The rope was thicker than it had any right to be, though as it seemed to be fisherman’s rope she supposed she shouldn’t be so surprised. She’d been on a ship once, an old galleon that had been visiting the Welsh port where they’d been on holiday. The ropes on it had seemed huge to her younger self, thicker than her arm had been at the time and strong as hell; which while admirable, was just down right inconvenient when you had to cut someone free of it.
The rope finally gave way, dropping to the floor, allowing The Doctor to stand, his attention fixed on the men rather than his companion. As usual, the dangerous thing was always more interesting. Even when said dangerous thing was six men who only ten minutes ago had been uttering promises to chop him into pieces as an offering to the ancient gods.
“Doctor.” Iona hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling, “Now isn’t the time.”
The Doctor scowled, glancing back towards where Lachlan was struggling with the men before he nodded, letting her drag him off towards the shelter that Lachlan had told her about. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to stay there long before the Scot joined them.
The run was hard, the grass long and the ground boggy as they got close to the tumbled down farm buildings, but they made it without being seen, thanks to the darkness and Lachlan’s continued diversion.
The Doctor muttered something about apes running into situations unprepared as he slumped against one of the walls inside the ruin, already reaching into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, ignoring Iona's indignant snort.
“You got captured by the insane humanoid aliens. I on the other hand made friends with the locals.” Iona said, between breaths as she hunched down further against the wall, wincing as the sound of men's voice drew nearer. In hindsight, running away to the broken down farmhouse was very horror movie cliché and not exactly the best idea, even if it had been the only idea at the time.
“They’re not humanoid aliens, they’re parasites inhabiting humans.” The Doctor said, fiddling with his sonic screwdriver, unaffected by the poor lighting.
“Parasites inhabiting humans, who are preparing to sacrifice a bunch of humans and some sheep to the ancient gods.”
The Doctor stopped his fiddling for a minute to grin at her, “Yup, fantastic isn’t it?”
Iona blinked, frowning at him, “There are times I worry for your sanity.”
The Doctor just kept grinning, pulling something out of one of his pockets and waving the sonic screwdriver over it. “Sanest person you’ll probably ever meet, me.”
Iona snorted, “I really hope not.”
“I’ll have you know, Iona Jones, that I, clever as I am, have a plan.”
“Is it a cunning one?” Iona deadpanned, wondering if it was too late to ask him to take her back to where she’d been when he’d first stumbled into her.
“Oi, none of that you.” The Doctor said, glaring at her for a second before turning back to his project.
It was at exactly that moment that Lachlan stumbled into the ruin; gun in hand, blood running down the side of his face. Iona winced, clenching her hands to stop herself from reaching out to him. She might owe him, but she didn’t owe him enough to give him the wrong idea.
“Lachlan McDonald.” He introduced himself, smiling at The Doctor, not bothering to offer his hand.
“I’m The Doctor, nice to meet you Lachlan McDonald. That was a very nice diversion by the way.” The Doctor said, without once breaking his focus on the tiny box like object in his hand.
“Thank you.” Lachlan replied, more to be polite than because it was needed. It made Iona remember what her grandmother used to say about manners not being what they once were; the old hag had been right about that at least.
“If I might ask sir, what is it you’re doing?” Lachlan questioned, eying The Doctor’s collection warily.
“Saving us all.” The Doctor said, grinning.
Lachlan frowned, glancing at Iona who could only shrug. This was what The Doctor did, she couldn’t explain it, he’d just have to wait and see it for himself.
“There done, now I suggest you both cover your ears.”
Iona automatically did as he said, motioning for Lachlan to do the same when he hesitated, flinching when The Doctor threw the box over the wall, in the direction of the circles. He crouched down next to her, covering his own ears, while still grinning cheerfully.
Barely a minute later a loud squealing noise started, accompanied by a bright light that The Doctor hadn’t thought to warn them about, before it cut off after ten minutes, plunging them into sudden darkness.
The Doctor stood after a moment, wandering casually out of the ruined building and out towards the circles, stopping to pick up the spent box as he did. Iona followed, with Lachlan close behind, wary but trusting that The Doctor knew what he was doing.
In the centre of one of the circles, all six men were sprawled, clearly unconscious, their noses bloody and their mouths hanging open, malformed lumps that looked like giant slugs hanging half out of them, unmoving.
“There you see, I told you, I'm clever me.” The Doctor grinned at Iona, ignoring Lachlan’s blank stare.
Iona sighed, shaking her head. He was quite brilliant, she had to admit, but he was just as insane.
The Doctor nodded towards the bag of parasite remains in Lachlan’s hand as they stood on the bluff outside the McDonald’s farm house, the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. It had been a long night, gathering up the dead parasites in her shawl before making up a story to tell the men who had woken with no memory of what they had been doing for almost two weeks.
Lachlan had helped a bit, though he had clearly disapproved of lying to the men, even if he’d admitted he could see the sense of it. He’d avoided The Doctor like the plague though, clearly disturbed by his general demeanour of cheerfulness.
They’d retreated to the farmhouse after that, accepting their offer of a bed for the night. Now though, they were off, leaving the dead parasites in Lachlan’s capable hands to dispose of as he pleased. He’d made it clear that he wanted rid of them as soon as possible and in a way that ensured they wouldn’t cause trouble in the future.
His idea of how to do so, however, wasn’t exactly what Iona had expected.
Iona stared at him for a moment, “So, you’re going to dig a hole in the centre of the circle, dump the parasites’ bodies in it then fill it up and dump stones on it?” They were standing looking down at the circle of boulders that sat not far from the farmhouse, where Lachlan planned to bury the bodies, content that that way they’d be gone for good.
Lachlan nodded, “Field’s needed clearing for a while.”
Iona blinked, trying to think of a sensible reaction before she gave up, shaking her head, “I so don’t want to know what that’s going to lead to in the future.”
The Doctor grinned, “Absolutely nothing, other than a misidentification by Archaeologists.”
“Well, that’s ok then, isn’t it.” Iona said, making her opinion clear.
Bobby snorted, “That lot never listen to us anyway, it’ll not make a jot of difference to ‘em in the end. They see a thing, define it from what they see and that’s that. They won’t be told either, you tell ‘em ‘that used to be five stones’ and they say ‘no I’m afraid not old chap’.” The old man nodded firmly, “It’ll just be another thing us islanders know that they ignore for their own purposes. No harm’ll be done lass, I promise you.”
Iona smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his arm, “That’s good to know, thank you sir.”
He chuckled, patting her hand, “No worries, good to see one of you southern lot with manners.”
Iona flushed faintly, ignoring the fond look The Doctor threw in her direction.
“Best we be off then.” The Doctor clapped his hands, grinning, moving to shake hands with both father and son in turn, “It’s been a pleasure.”
Iona let Bobby hug her, dropping a fatherly kiss on her cheek before handing her off to his son who encompassed her in a bear hug, despite her protests. “Been a pleasure Miss Iona.”
Iona smiled weakly up at the large Scot, “Goodbye Lachlan, thank you for everything, and please pass on my thanks to your mother for her hospitality.”
He grinned nodding as he motioned that she should to catch up to The Doctor who was already a good few metres away, “Good luck to you.”
Iona turned back offering him one last smile and a wave, silently thinking that she’d need more than luck to survive travelling with The Doctor. Especially if he kept this up.
Iona woke up on a beach, a familiar one, or at least, once upon a time it had been. It wasn’t somewhere she had ever expected to see again.
Last that she remembered, she’d been curled up on her bed in the TARDIS, it had been a month since the encounter on Arran, a month filled with exploring various alien market places and a quick trip to Brighton so that Iona could grab a piece of rock and phone her sister.
The Doctor had collected a variety of parts, claiming that he might need them to fix the TARDIS one day, and tried to win their running bet regarding the quality of non-earth coffee. He had thus far, failed spectacularly, coming close to surrendering in the face of the beverage that the people of the Republic of Kainteel in the year 300,600,4 called coffee.
It had actually, according to The Doctor, tasted like a mix of pig manure, motor oil and sardines.
She had been generally relieved to not have to run away from yet another angry alien or rescue The Doctor from yet another situation his mouth had gotten him into and better yet, she hadn’t been abducted herself in over a month. So she decided to put that particular week down as a win.
Now though, slowly pushing herself upright, Iona couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a mistake. Looking around cautiously, Iona froze as she realised that she wasn’t alone.
Iona stared at the young man for a long moment before she started to giggle hysterically. She had seen a lot of things travelling with The Doctor, but this, this topped them all.
Here she was, stood on a beach that had never in her experience ever been this sunny, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, ten yards from a man who could easily be her own twin brother. Only, she didn’t have any brothers, let alone a twin.
“Hello.” He had waited until she stopped laughing before he had spoken, looking just as surprised as she was, shifting uncomfortably under the glare of the sun.
Iona wiped at her eyes, offering him an apologetic smile, it couldn’t have been nice, being faced with her having a giggling fit on a beach that was familiar as it was alien. Then again, she wasn’t really sure that he was actually there, or if he was actually human, or anything really.
She absolutely no idea what was going on and with no sign of either The Doctor or the TARDIS, it didn’t look like help would be forthcoming either. She just hoped that wherever he was, The Doctor was having a more interesting encounter than she was.
“Hi.” She managed after a long moment, before glancing around searching for somewhere that they could sit. For one thing, it would be comfortable, for another, it gave her something to do to distract herself from the rising panic.
She spotted a bench and motioned silently for him to precede her, thankful that she’d decided against the sandals that morning, she couldn’t abide by the feeling of sand between her toes; or anywhere really.
They both sat; at opposite ends of the bench, sitting in awkward silence for a long moment before he seemed to decide that, as he had spoken first before, he should be the one to open the conversation once more. “My name’s Ianto, Ianto Jones.”
“Short for Ifan?” Iona questioned, smiling when he made a face at the very suggestion.
“No, just Ianto.”
“Iona Jones.” She returned, shrugging when he raised an eyebrow, “I can’t explain that choice, so don’t ask me to.”
He smiled, “You travelling with The Doctor?”
Iona considered that for a moment before shrugging, “If you mean a tall, daft bloke with a fondness for leather jackets and long sleeved t-shirts, with really big ears and a northern accent, then yes, I am.”
“Brought you trouble as well then has he?”
“Oh God yes.” Iona nodded, relieved to suddenly have an outlet to vent to that wasn’t The Doctor himself or the TARDIS, who seemed to just find Iona’s rants amusing, so far as she could tell at least.
Ianto laughed faintly, “It is fun though.”
Iona wrinkled her nose, “Maybe.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed, “So, you’re what, an alternate version of me?”
“Or,” Iona threw back, “you are an alternate version of me.”
“Right.” Ianto said, eyebrow raised. “Either way, we’re basically the same person.”
Iona frowned at him, “How do you figure that?”
Ianto sighed, “You have a sister called Rhiannon.”
“Older sister. Married to Johnny.”
“Davies, they have one kid.”
“David and one on the way, if the last conversation I had with her is anything to go by.”
“You called her from Brighton.”
Iona scowled, “Dad died in a road traffic accident.”
“In 2002, yeah.” Ianto filled in, deflating a little, suddenly finding his hands fascinating.
Iona sighed, “Ok so, basically the same person yeah, but not exactly the same person.”
Ianto considered this for a moment before he nodded, giving in to her reasoning, “No, because that would be far too creepy, all things considered.”
Iona gave him a warning look, “Wouldn’t it just.”
Ianto rolled his eyes and Iona had to fight the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Thank God she didn’t actually have a brother, Rhiannon alone was bad enough.
“So…” He said, gaze fixed on a point somewhere out to sea, clearly lost as to what exactly to say.
“When people ask, about growing up, about…dad, what do you say?” Iona blurted, not really thinking beyond the fact that it was just the two of them and who better to ask to judge her actions than herself…or the closest thing to herself she was ever likely to encounter.
Ianto flinched visibly, “Why?”
“Because of that.” Iona replied, knowing that he would get her meaning.
Ianto sighed, shaking his head, “I never say much and people don’t really ask.”
Iona ducked her head, smiling ruefully. It was true, if he was anything like her, she’d found that she was one of those people that never really got noticed. Her coffee might be good, she might always be well presented and be fairly bright, but she’d never been outstanding in anything.
Never been anything memorable.
“I always tell them that dad was a master tailor.” She admitted, Rhiannon’s critical voice echoing in her head even as she said it.
He smiled and it wasn’t a nice smile, there was an edge to it that made her wince, “Me too, not that anyone thinks anything of that. Or if they do it’s rarely good.”
“Rhiannon would say that’s your own fault for lying.” She said, staring at the footprints they’d left in the sand. There’s no breeze either. It’s perfectly still and it’s sunny still, nothing like the real place. It should be windy and cold and horrible, but maybe this place, wherever it is, is trying to tell her something about herself.
She kicked idly at the sand, shrugging unable to meet his gaze and at a loss as to what to say. It was one thing, lying to people she didn’t know, it was a whole other thing lying to herself; even if that self was male and normally resided in another universe, parallel to her own; if he really existed at all.
“It’s not like it’s really a lie.” He’s the one to break the silence and she doesn’t envy him that, “Not really.”
Iona’s nose wrinkled and she shook her head faintly, “Only it is.” She argued, “I mean that was before I, we, were even born. It’s not like I,” She stopped cursing silently before correcting herself, “we, have any actual memories of him working in his shop, or bringing work home, or any of that.” She sighed, rubbing her temple; this whole situation was giving her one hell of a headache.
“He worked at Debenhams, that’s all I ever remember him doing and he always hated it when mum mentioned before.” She added after a moment, when he still hadn’t reacted.
“Because he hated working there, but he kept working there because we needed the money.” Ianto said quietly. “If the shop hadn’t stopped making money, he never would have given it up. If Mum hadn’t gotten pregnant, he wouldn’t have given it up.” It’s a rather brutal comment, but nothing that she didn’t already know. That she hadn’t already considered.
Iona winced, “Maybe that’s why Rhiannon always hates me mentioning it.”
“Yeah.” Ianto nods, “Especially now, with kids of her own and everything.”
“If she knew what I was really doing, now, she’d say I was insane.” Iona commented after a moment, offering him a faint smile, trying to break from the dark turn that their conversation had taken.
Ianto laughed, nodding, “Yup, she would. As it is she’s going to give me a huge lecture when I finally turn up on her doorstep again.” Iona laughed, nodding in agreement before they both fell silent.
They shared a comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Iona spoke, finally asking the question that she’d never quite been able to answer herself, honestly.
“Are you ever going to go back?” She asked, the words barely a whisper.
Ianto stiffened for a moment, glancing at her quickly before looking away, “Yeah, I think so.”
Iona smiled faintly, “Me too.” She agreed, relieved by the confirmation of her feelings. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy all of it, travelling with The Doctor, making a difference; it was just that she couldn’t see it as a ‘forever’ thing. She couldn’t see it as all her life would ever be. Plus, she misses Earth too much to keep going too long.
They sat like that, exchanging the odd question or comment for a few hours, until, tired out and hungry, Iona fell asleep.
When she woke, she was back on the TARDIS, lying on top of her covers, still fully dressed.
She lay like that for a while, considering what exactly it was that she had experienced, sitting on that beach, before she moving, hauling herself upright and setting off in search of The Doctor. Typically, the kitchen or the console room were the best bets. On this occasion he was in the kitchen.
"There you are. You took your time." The Doctor looked up at her over the top of his book. He was sitting in one of the chairs, his boots on the table, reading a book that Iona didn't recognise.
Iona stared at him suspiciously, crossing her arms over her stomach and leaning against the door frame. "So, what exactly happened then?"
"What exactly happened when?" He asked, making a point of turning a page of his book.
Iona rolled her eyes, "You know what I mean."
He kept reading, not answering for a full five minutes before he finally gave in, throwing the book onto the table and lowering his feet, turning so that he was facing her, clasping his hands together and resting them on his knees. "Yes I do."
"So?"
"We were invited."
"Invited where?"
"Exactly."
Iona sighed, shoulders sagging, "That isn't an answer."
"No, it isn't." He grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms over his stomach, watching her.
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
"Do what?"
Iona glared at him, "You know exactly what I mean."
"You say that a lot."
Iona was starting to wonder if she wouldn't be better off beating her head off a brick wall. "Doctor."
"Alright, fine, we were sent an invitation, don't ask me who by, because I don't know. The TARDIS received it and at that moment, we were there."
Iona frowned, "Where?"
The Doctor shook his head, "It doesn’t have a name, not as you humans think and it’s not any one place. It’s different for everyone. But, when you’re there, you learn stuff, answers to questions you never thought you wanted to ask. Whoever you meet there, they give you the answers, or help you find them yourself.” He stared at her, making her feel as though he could see every part of her, "There's more, but I can't tell you and even if I did, it might not be true. Like I said, it's different for everyone."
Iona watched him, waiting for him to expand on what he'd said, or preferably, make what he'd said make more sense, but he didn't. He just sat there, watching her for a long time before he grinned, standing and pulling her with him as he headed out of the room.
"I think I know exactly the place to take you Iona Jones." He announced, making it clear that the subject of the invitation and just what her excounter had been, was closed. He'd told her all he was going to. Had explained as much as he ever would.
Part Three
Author: weaselett
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Pairing/Character: girl!Ianto (Iona Jones), Nine
Summary: Pre-series for both New!Who and Torchwood. Iona Jones meets The Doctor and takes up his offer to go travelling and it isn't quite what she expected.
Warnings: Vague possible background spoilers for Torchwood COE
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood or Doctor Who and no profit is being made from this fic.
Part Two.
Iona stood on the cliff top, eying the sea, shivering in her hugely inadequate outfit of choice. She really needed to stop taking The Doctor’s word as gospel, he was wrong far too often and she kept getting caught unprepared. This was their fifth trip since the now infamous encounter on the xenophobic planet.
“When exactly are we?” Iona yelled, struggling to be heard over the wind, faintly amused by the fact that even he was struggling to stay upright.
“1878.”
Iona waited a beat, hoping that he would expand upon that particular statement, before giving up, The Doctor was in love with vague and mysterious statements, just as much as he was in love with his own superiority at times. “Where are we?”
The Doctor grinned, motioning at their surroundings, “The Isle of Arran, Scotland.”
Iona blinked, taking a moment to be thankful that they hadn’t ended up on Iona, he would have spent far too much of the time commenting on it if they had and too little being concerned by whatever near disaster they had walked into the middle of. Still, a Scottish island over a hundred years before she was born wasn’t terrible; she’d never even been to Scotland in her own time anyway.
“Tell me, Miss Jones, what do you know about the Isle of Arran?” The Doctor questioned, still grinning.
“It has the only nineteen hole golf course in the world?” Iona said, vaguely remembering having read that somewhere.
The Doctor’s grin slipped, just a little, with that statement, which she decided, counted as a win. He really shouldn’t ask her stupid questions expecting a decent, meaningful answer. Especially not when he knew full well that she’d only left Cardiff twelve times in her whole life prior meeting him and ten of those times she hadn’t even made it out of Wales.
“Stone circles.” The Doctor said after a moment, nodding in land, “Whole lot of them.”
“Made by aliens?”
The Doctor rolled his eyes, “No, humans, very bright, very ingenious for their time, humans. Though some of the ones elsewhere were made by aliens.”
“Right.” Iona nodded, putting that statement down as yet another leading comment that she would never completely understand. She looked down at her clothes, worn jeans and a purple vest top over a brown shirt, wincing. Somehow she doubted the locals would be all that impressed with her if she started wandering around dressed as she was.
“I think maybe I should get changed.”
The Doctor eyed her outfit, “Might be an idea yeah.”
Iona rolled her eyes and muttered a few choice remakes about his ancestry under her breath as she jogged back over to the TARDIS, hoping that the wardrobe room would have something that she could wear to suit the situation, not that it ever didn’t, she just wondered sometimes if there was a limit to its magical abilities. That or maybe The Doctor was always picking up girls of about the same size. But she wasn’t going to touch that thought.
Twenty minutes later Iona ambled back out of the TARDIS, dressed more appropriately in a long dress and working boots, her hair tucked up in a bun and a shawl drawn around her shoulders to keep in the warmth.
“Took you long enough.” The Doctor commented, standing up from his perch on the edge of the cliff and brushing himself down idly.
“Well at least I’m not going to get us shot or anything now.” Iona threw back, eyeing The Doctor’s own, unchanged attire, “Though you’re still going to draw a few looks.”
“No, they’ll just hear my accent and decide it must be an English thing.” The Doctor grinned triumphantly, clearly proud of the fact that no matter where they went, he had an answer for everything.
“Right.” It wasn’t worth pointing out that it was more likely that they’d just decide he was a bit wrong in the head and not worth the effort of a correction. It pretty much meant the same thing anyway.
The Doctor kept grinning, offering Iona his arm, “Come on, it’s a little bit of a walk, but it'll be worth it, promise.”
Iona snorted, shaking her head, but taking his arm anyway. She was getting used to his oddities.
A bit of a walk turned out to be a few miles, over rather variable terrain. Thankfully though, it remained dry at least, something that Iona knew was fortunate. Rain was one of those things that was common place wherever you went in the British Isles, or so the tales went.
The view though, more than made up for the walk, just as The Doctor had promised, though if she hadn’t been as big a fan of scenery as she was he’d probably have been facing a rebellion. Iona stood on the rise overlooking the moor land and its collection of stone circles, watching The Doctor as he explored, his grin impossibly wide.
He was an alien, who could travel through space and time. He could go back in time to when these circles were being built, talk to the people who built them, maybe even help them build them, yet he seemed to love just being here, seeing the stones as they were now. Just like any tourist from her time.
Iona smiled, shaking her head. She could imagine what people would say if they knew that she’d up and left with a strange alien man who quite literally never stayed in one place; that and a thing for danger.
“Iona, I’m just off over there, don’t you go wandering off.” The Doctor motioned towards a stand of trees to the east, where, if his interest was anything to go by, there was probably something even more fascinating hidden and Iona signalled her understadning before she moved down the rise towards the circles.
She sat down on one side of one of the larger stones, where it was sheltered from the wind and a bit warmer for it. She was happy to leave the energetic exploring bit to him; he seemed to like it better that way sometimes anyway.
“There, you see, perfectly capable of spending more than an hour somewhere without doom ensuing.” The Doctor said, a little over an hour later, as he lent against Iona’s chosen stone, his shoes mud laden from his little wander.
Iona groaned, “You couldn’t have waited until we were back at the TARDIS before saying that?”
The Doctor rolled his eyes, “So pessimistic you.”
“With good reason.” Iona said as she stood, taking a moment to brush herself down before she moved around the stone towards the path that they’d used earlier.
“We could go find that golf course.” The Doctor said, patting the stone fondly as he moved to catch up with Iona.
“Does it even exist yet?” Iona questioned, not sure of the answer herself. She’d never really understood the attraction of golf.
The Doctor shrugged, “Dunno, we could still check though, discover the answer.”
Iona raised an eyebrow, “Because knowing whether a golf course existed yet would be such an interesting piece of information.”
“Oh yeah, one day in the future, you’ll be sat in a pub somewhere, doing one of those quizzes with your mates and the winning question will be ‘when was the nineteen hole golf course on Arran built’.” The Doctor stopped frowning, seriously considering his own question for a moment before he shook his head, “Anyway, that question will come up and, if it does, you’ll regret not finding out for yourself.”
“Or, I could look it up on the internet when I next have access to it.”
“Absolutely no sense of history you.”
Iona rolled her eyes, “Perfect sense of history, just no interest on the existence or non-existence of golf courses in particular eras. And, it’s getting dark.”
“So it is.” The Doctor stilled once more, craning his head back to look up at the sky. “Give it an hour or so and you’ll see more stars in the sky than you ever have before, on Earth that is.”
Iona snorted, “I come from Wales Doctor, I’ve been to places just as remote as this on holiday, seen all those stars clearer than you ever can in Cardiff or Newport.”
“Oh, but there’s a whole century of industrial pollution between then and now, makes all the difference, you'll see.”
“Won’t the view be even better back at the TARDIS?” Iona pressed, starting to shiver as the day grew cooler, the breeze that bit more chilly.
The Doctor smiled, all too aware of Iona’s ulterior motives, “Come on then.”
He started off again, at a quicker pace, making it as far as the top of the rise before he stopped; turning back towards the circles. Men’s voices drifted to them on the breeze, coming from the direction of The Doctor’s hidden circle, along with the desperate sounding bleating of a sheep.
“Doctor.” Iona questioned, keeping her voice low, a sense of dread building in her stomach. She’d known something would happen to ruin the peace, it almost always did with The Doctor, it was one of the reasons that she’d taken to only wearing practical shoes, no matter where they were.
“Strange.” The Doctor said, crouching down just on the other side of the rise, just out of sight of the approaching men. Iona hesitated for a moment before following suit, inwardly cursing him as she did so.
“This isn’t going to end well is it?”
The Doctor grinned, “Nope.”
Iona sighed, closing her eyes and burying her face in the grass.
Iona squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to throw up, wincing as the men in the centre of the circle of stones and blazing torches cheered; the sheep’s cries of terror ending just as abruptly as its companion’s had.
“Very strange.” The Doctor muttered from beside her, gaze fixed on the now dancing men.
“I realize there are plenty of people, even in my time, who believe that the Scottish, Welsh and Irish are still into animal sacrifice, but I didn’t think anyone actually was.” Iona said, voice low, watching the men with more than a little wariness. It wasn’t all that long ago that she’d been a sacrifice herself, an experience she hoped to never repeat, and if anything she felt more affinity with the sheep than the men.
“You’re right, they’re not, well besides a few odd people here and there, they’re not.” The Doctor agreed, frowning at the continuing festivities.
“Great.” Iona muttered, silently wondering if it was too late to just get up and leg it back to the TARDIS. But then, she didn’t have a key, so she’d just be stuck waiting for The Doctor. Better to stay with him, even if that did mean possible bodily harm and the threat of mortal peril.
The Doctor was grinning again, eyes glittering with excitement and suddenly Iona wasn’t so sure that this would end well for the men in the circle, or whatever they were, either. “They’re making sacrifices to an ancient God, only it’s not one that anyone on Earth ever worshipped, which means, whoever these people are, they don’t belong here.”
“So, what, we talk to them, find out where they’re from and take them home?”
The Doctor seemed to hesitate for a moment before he nodded, “Something like that, yeah, so long as they stick to just sheep.”
Iona shuddered, not liking the under current to his voice, he knew something that she didn’t. Something that he wouldn’t tell her, even if she pressed him. Not that she was sure that she really wanted to know whatever it was, especially as she had no doubt that whatever it was, it was unpleasant.
Iona’s eyes widened, her scream muffled by the hand over her mouth. Damnit, she’d been so close to getting away, how hadn’t she seen him hiding in the brush? So much for getting help to rescue The Doctor, though on an island like this, she probably would have been hard put to find someone who wasn’t involved in this whole mess.
“Hush lass, I’m not going to hurt you.” The man whispered, pulling her back into the brush, out of sight of the group of men who’d been chasing her. “I’m going to let you go, but don’t scream now, or they’ll find the pair of us, you understand?”
Iona swallowed, giving him an exaggerated head nod of understanding, hoping that he was telling the truth, not just lying to get her to go along a little easier. Not that she was much of a burden to a man of his size.
“There now.” The man offered her a reassuring smile, all crooked yellow teeth, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners. He looked every bit the weathered young farmer.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who are you?”
The man raised an eyebrow, eying her, making it clear that he was wondering exactly the same thing, “My name’s Lachlan McDonald, if I may have yours miss?”
“Iona Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mr McDonald.” Iona answered automatically, even as she mocked herself. Polite even in the face of danger, her father would be proud.
He chuckled, shaking his head, “Call me Lachlan, my da’s Mr McDonald. Besides, under the circumstances, seems we may as well be working off first names.”
Iona smiled, offering the expected formal confirmation, “Best you call me Iona then.”
He nodded, turning solemn as he glanced back in the direction of the circles, to where The Doctor was probably even now being tied up by the men who’d caught him. “Strange things been happening of late on the island, been a worry to us all.” He said, obviously testing the waters; seeing how much Iona knew.
“Strange things?
“Aye, sheep going missing, not that there’s many of them as it is, not all that much sheep grazing around, plus a few of the villagers have been acting strangely. Most of us just thought it was people getting uppity though, times are changing and all.”
Iona nodded, vaguely understanding what he meant. It was one thing reading about things in history books; it was a whole other matter actually seeing them happen. “You think it’s something more sinister though?”
He nodded again grimly, “Been a few people gone missing now, none of ‘em fishermen or likely to have gone on the ferry, one of my neighbours found a, body, yesterday as well. Not many people die of anything but natural causes on the island.”
Iona winced, she got the impression that it hadn’t been a whole body that’d been found, but Lachlan was being sensitive to her feminine qualities; which was something that was very likely to start annoying the hell out of her very soon.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment, taking in her appearance, before he spoke again, still keeping his voice low, even now that the men had moved on, “Look, lass, this isn’t the place for you.”
Iona gritted her teeth, silently cursing that fact that she was in the nineteenth century and a girl. The Doctor needed her help and she intended to give him it, only now she was going to have to do so while trying to convince a nineteenth century man that she could handle herself perfectly well, thank you very much.
“They’ve got my," she hesitated, seartching for a way to describe her relationship with The Doctor, one that wouldn't give Lachlan the wrong impression, "travelling companion Mr McDonald and I have every intention of helping him get free of them.” She gave him a look daring him to question her, hoping that she was coming across as haughty enough that he’d decide it wasn’t worth the effort to correct her, or better yet, that he’d decide that she could handle herself.
He sighed, looking put upon in a way that suggested that she’d just done something that reminded him of his mother; never a good thing in her experience. “It’s dangerous Miss Jones, those men are cold hearted murderers. You’d be better leaving it to me and mine.”
Iona raised an eyebrow, “No offence, Mr McDonald, but it looks to me like you’re acting alone. Surely you would appreciate an extra pair of eyes, even if they do happen to belong to a woman?”
He hesitated for a long moment, seemingly gauging her intention before he sagged a little, “Very well then, if you’ll not be convinced otherwise. Just be sure to remember the danger.”
Iona nodded, biting her lip to keep from making a sarcastic remark. She’d already been more than a little forward.
He motioned for her to follow him, “Your companion should be safe for now. They seem to like it to be dark when they conduct their business. My farm’s not far from here, best we head there and have a plan prepared for dusk.”
The McDonald’s land, it turned out, bordered the land the circles were on, stretching to the coast and a few miles north of where Iona had run into Lachlan. The farmhouse its self sat on top of a small hill, overlooking the sea, perched just above another stone circle, which sat on a small plateau part way up the hillside. Lachlan’s father, Robert; though he insisted on Bobby; had been the one to send Lachlan to investigate the goings on at the circles.
“Time was,” Bobby said, “worst that happened on the island was a lad getting cursed for moving one of them stones.”
The more Iona listened to the two men talk, the more she started to suspect that they were speaking something other than English, probably some form of Gaelic, but she couldn’t be certain. She couldn’t ask them, not when she was clearly speaking to them in the same language, nor could she ask The Doctor, as he was presently otherwise occupied. She’d just have a deal with it, along with everything else.
“Cursed?”
Bobby nodded solemnly, “There used to be another circle, to the north of us, big stones like them on the moor, just the two stones of it left now though. Some poor fellow’s wife decided it was a good lot of stone and bid him use it in building their new house. He managed it too, hauled down five of the stones and got ‘em up the hill, knocked ‘em to pieces and used them as part of the house facing.
The cost weren’t worth it though, no matter how pretty it looked. Cost them both of their sons and himself his life, so it did. Cliff collapsed on one of the boys, the other drowned out on the waters on a clear day with his da. Left the wife no one but herself.” He shook his head sadly.
Iona winced, she wasn’t hugely superstitious herself, but she could understand why something like that might drive a person to be.
“Here you go love.” Lachlan’s mother Mary, a homely old soul who clearly ran the household, trundled back into the room, pushing a tea trolley, handing Iona a cup and saucer before taking her own and leaving the boys to help themselves. “Don’t believe everything he tells you, I’ve heard near twelve versions of that tale.”
“Thank you for the tea Mrs McDonald.” Iona smiled, hiding it politely behind her cup as she took a sip of tea. Mary McDonald went a long way to explaining why Lachlan had taken her own behaviour in his stride as well as he had.
“Be that as it may, no good ever comes of messing with those stones.” Bobby continued, undeterred by his wife.
“It is a terrible thing, all these people vanishing like they are.” Mary allowed, throwing her son a concerned glance. “Doesn’t make any sense neither, time was, David Duffy wouldn’t hurt a fly, now here you are, saying he’s one of them taking off with people and murdering them for no good reason.”
“Hmmmm.” Bobby hummed his agreement, taking a slurp of his highly sweetened tea. How exactly he could even taste the tea through the five sugar cubes Iona didn’t know.
“I saw him with my own eyes, plain as day.” Lachlan replied, shaking his head, clearly as disturbed by it as his mother was.
“They took your travelling companion?” Mary turned her attention to her guest, gaze sympathetic.
Iona nodded, taking another sip of tea before she answered, “We were visiting the circles, he’s always been interested in things like that. He wandered off to look at that far circle, the one in that grove of trees? We were just leaving when they jumped him, just like that.
It was dark and I was a few yards ahead of him, so I thought they hadn’t seen me, so I was trying to get away to find help, only they caught sight of me just as I made it to the path.”
Lachlan nodded his agreement, “I caught her running past that clump of trees by the stream, lucky I did as well. They were almost on her.”
“Very fortunate.” Mary agreed solemnly, reaching out to pat Iona on the knee gently, “You poor thing, getting dragged out to this soggy, windy island by that man of yours then getting attacked.”
“I owe your son a debt, ma’am.” Iona managed a weak smile, resisting the urge to correct the woman. She’d just have to let them think whatever they wanted to. Better that than correct them, especially as she had no doubt that at some point there would be a conversation with the ferryman who would inform the nice Mrs McDonald that he’d had no such passengers as the ones she was describing.
“You’ll have to get back there at dusk, if you’re to rescue Miss Jones’ man.” Bobby said, giving his son a pointed look that Iona decided to ignore. She had no one else to turn to, so she’d put up with some meaningful looks between the two men, knowing that their ideas weren’t going to get them anywhere.
Lachlan nodded, “I figure I’ll go in there, yelling up a storm, let Miss Jones, small thing she is, sneak in and cut her man free.”
Iona blinked, startled by how simple his plan was, “That’s it?”
“Simple’s always best lass.” Bobby replied sagely as he poured himself another cup of tea.
“There’s a ruin on the moor, not far from the circles, once you’ve got your man free, it’d be the best place for you to head there. I’ll finish up my part then make my way around to you.” Lachlan concluded, before standing and walking over to the sideboard that took up most of the far wall, retrieving a box of bullets from a draw, “And if all else fails, I’ll have the old gun to scare them off with.”
Iona’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. There wasn’t really anything that she could say to that really. She was just going to have to hope that rescuing The Doctor didn’t get her or Lachlan killed and that once he was rescued, The Doctor would know what to do.
Iona winced, sawing at the ropes that were keeping The Doctor pressed against the stone, fighting to stay focused on the task at hand instead of looking up as a man cried out. Lachlan could take care of himself, he’d be fine and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it if Iona got them caught because she was concerned for him.
The rope was thicker than it had any right to be, though as it seemed to be fisherman’s rope she supposed she shouldn’t be so surprised. She’d been on a ship once, an old galleon that had been visiting the Welsh port where they’d been on holiday. The ropes on it had seemed huge to her younger self, thicker than her arm had been at the time and strong as hell; which while admirable, was just down right inconvenient when you had to cut someone free of it.
The rope finally gave way, dropping to the floor, allowing The Doctor to stand, his attention fixed on the men rather than his companion. As usual, the dangerous thing was always more interesting. Even when said dangerous thing was six men who only ten minutes ago had been uttering promises to chop him into pieces as an offering to the ancient gods.
“Doctor.” Iona hissed, grabbing his arm and pulling, “Now isn’t the time.”
The Doctor scowled, glancing back towards where Lachlan was struggling with the men before he nodded, letting her drag him off towards the shelter that Lachlan had told her about. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to stay there long before the Scot joined them.
The run was hard, the grass long and the ground boggy as they got close to the tumbled down farm buildings, but they made it without being seen, thanks to the darkness and Lachlan’s continued diversion.
The Doctor muttered something about apes running into situations unprepared as he slumped against one of the walls inside the ruin, already reaching into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, ignoring Iona's indignant snort.
“You got captured by the insane humanoid aliens. I on the other hand made friends with the locals.” Iona said, between breaths as she hunched down further against the wall, wincing as the sound of men's voice drew nearer. In hindsight, running away to the broken down farmhouse was very horror movie cliché and not exactly the best idea, even if it had been the only idea at the time.
“They’re not humanoid aliens, they’re parasites inhabiting humans.” The Doctor said, fiddling with his sonic screwdriver, unaffected by the poor lighting.
“Parasites inhabiting humans, who are preparing to sacrifice a bunch of humans and some sheep to the ancient gods.”
The Doctor stopped his fiddling for a minute to grin at her, “Yup, fantastic isn’t it?”
Iona blinked, frowning at him, “There are times I worry for your sanity.”
The Doctor just kept grinning, pulling something out of one of his pockets and waving the sonic screwdriver over it. “Sanest person you’ll probably ever meet, me.”
Iona snorted, “I really hope not.”
“I’ll have you know, Iona Jones, that I, clever as I am, have a plan.”
“Is it a cunning one?” Iona deadpanned, wondering if it was too late to ask him to take her back to where she’d been when he’d first stumbled into her.
“Oi, none of that you.” The Doctor said, glaring at her for a second before turning back to his project.
It was at exactly that moment that Lachlan stumbled into the ruin; gun in hand, blood running down the side of his face. Iona winced, clenching her hands to stop herself from reaching out to him. She might owe him, but she didn’t owe him enough to give him the wrong idea.
“Lachlan McDonald.” He introduced himself, smiling at The Doctor, not bothering to offer his hand.
“I’m The Doctor, nice to meet you Lachlan McDonald. That was a very nice diversion by the way.” The Doctor said, without once breaking his focus on the tiny box like object in his hand.
“Thank you.” Lachlan replied, more to be polite than because it was needed. It made Iona remember what her grandmother used to say about manners not being what they once were; the old hag had been right about that at least.
“If I might ask sir, what is it you’re doing?” Lachlan questioned, eying The Doctor’s collection warily.
“Saving us all.” The Doctor said, grinning.
Lachlan frowned, glancing at Iona who could only shrug. This was what The Doctor did, she couldn’t explain it, he’d just have to wait and see it for himself.
“There done, now I suggest you both cover your ears.”
Iona automatically did as he said, motioning for Lachlan to do the same when he hesitated, flinching when The Doctor threw the box over the wall, in the direction of the circles. He crouched down next to her, covering his own ears, while still grinning cheerfully.
Barely a minute later a loud squealing noise started, accompanied by a bright light that The Doctor hadn’t thought to warn them about, before it cut off after ten minutes, plunging them into sudden darkness.
The Doctor stood after a moment, wandering casually out of the ruined building and out towards the circles, stopping to pick up the spent box as he did. Iona followed, with Lachlan close behind, wary but trusting that The Doctor knew what he was doing.
In the centre of one of the circles, all six men were sprawled, clearly unconscious, their noses bloody and their mouths hanging open, malformed lumps that looked like giant slugs hanging half out of them, unmoving.
“There you see, I told you, I'm clever me.” The Doctor grinned at Iona, ignoring Lachlan’s blank stare.
Iona sighed, shaking her head. He was quite brilliant, she had to admit, but he was just as insane.
The Doctor nodded towards the bag of parasite remains in Lachlan’s hand as they stood on the bluff outside the McDonald’s farm house, the sun just beginning to peak over the horizon. It had been a long night, gathering up the dead parasites in her shawl before making up a story to tell the men who had woken with no memory of what they had been doing for almost two weeks.
Lachlan had helped a bit, though he had clearly disapproved of lying to the men, even if he’d admitted he could see the sense of it. He’d avoided The Doctor like the plague though, clearly disturbed by his general demeanour of cheerfulness.
They’d retreated to the farmhouse after that, accepting their offer of a bed for the night. Now though, they were off, leaving the dead parasites in Lachlan’s capable hands to dispose of as he pleased. He’d made it clear that he wanted rid of them as soon as possible and in a way that ensured they wouldn’t cause trouble in the future.
His idea of how to do so, however, wasn’t exactly what Iona had expected.
Iona stared at him for a moment, “So, you’re going to dig a hole in the centre of the circle, dump the parasites’ bodies in it then fill it up and dump stones on it?” They were standing looking down at the circle of boulders that sat not far from the farmhouse, where Lachlan planned to bury the bodies, content that that way they’d be gone for good.
Lachlan nodded, “Field’s needed clearing for a while.”
Iona blinked, trying to think of a sensible reaction before she gave up, shaking her head, “I so don’t want to know what that’s going to lead to in the future.”
The Doctor grinned, “Absolutely nothing, other than a misidentification by Archaeologists.”
“Well, that’s ok then, isn’t it.” Iona said, making her opinion clear.
Bobby snorted, “That lot never listen to us anyway, it’ll not make a jot of difference to ‘em in the end. They see a thing, define it from what they see and that’s that. They won’t be told either, you tell ‘em ‘that used to be five stones’ and they say ‘no I’m afraid not old chap’.” The old man nodded firmly, “It’ll just be another thing us islanders know that they ignore for their own purposes. No harm’ll be done lass, I promise you.”
Iona smiled at him, reaching out to squeeze his arm, “That’s good to know, thank you sir.”
He chuckled, patting her hand, “No worries, good to see one of you southern lot with manners.”
Iona flushed faintly, ignoring the fond look The Doctor threw in her direction.
“Best we be off then.” The Doctor clapped his hands, grinning, moving to shake hands with both father and son in turn, “It’s been a pleasure.”
Iona let Bobby hug her, dropping a fatherly kiss on her cheek before handing her off to his son who encompassed her in a bear hug, despite her protests. “Been a pleasure Miss Iona.”
Iona smiled weakly up at the large Scot, “Goodbye Lachlan, thank you for everything, and please pass on my thanks to your mother for her hospitality.”
He grinned nodding as he motioned that she should to catch up to The Doctor who was already a good few metres away, “Good luck to you.”
Iona turned back offering him one last smile and a wave, silently thinking that she’d need more than luck to survive travelling with The Doctor. Especially if he kept this up.
Iona woke up on a beach, a familiar one, or at least, once upon a time it had been. It wasn’t somewhere she had ever expected to see again.
Last that she remembered, she’d been curled up on her bed in the TARDIS, it had been a month since the encounter on Arran, a month filled with exploring various alien market places and a quick trip to Brighton so that Iona could grab a piece of rock and phone her sister.
The Doctor had collected a variety of parts, claiming that he might need them to fix the TARDIS one day, and tried to win their running bet regarding the quality of non-earth coffee. He had thus far, failed spectacularly, coming close to surrendering in the face of the beverage that the people of the Republic of Kainteel in the year 300,600,4 called coffee.
It had actually, according to The Doctor, tasted like a mix of pig manure, motor oil and sardines.
She had been generally relieved to not have to run away from yet another angry alien or rescue The Doctor from yet another situation his mouth had gotten him into and better yet, she hadn’t been abducted herself in over a month. So she decided to put that particular week down as a win.
Now though, slowly pushing herself upright, Iona couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a mistake. Looking around cautiously, Iona froze as she realised that she wasn’t alone.
Iona stared at the young man for a long moment before she started to giggle hysterically. She had seen a lot of things travelling with The Doctor, but this, this topped them all.
Here she was, stood on a beach that had never in her experience ever been this sunny, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, ten yards from a man who could easily be her own twin brother. Only, she didn’t have any brothers, let alone a twin.
“Hello.” He had waited until she stopped laughing before he had spoken, looking just as surprised as she was, shifting uncomfortably under the glare of the sun.
Iona wiped at her eyes, offering him an apologetic smile, it couldn’t have been nice, being faced with her having a giggling fit on a beach that was familiar as it was alien. Then again, she wasn’t really sure that he was actually there, or if he was actually human, or anything really.
She absolutely no idea what was going on and with no sign of either The Doctor or the TARDIS, it didn’t look like help would be forthcoming either. She just hoped that wherever he was, The Doctor was having a more interesting encounter than she was.
“Hi.” She managed after a long moment, before glancing around searching for somewhere that they could sit. For one thing, it would be comfortable, for another, it gave her something to do to distract herself from the rising panic.
She spotted a bench and motioned silently for him to precede her, thankful that she’d decided against the sandals that morning, she couldn’t abide by the feeling of sand between her toes; or anywhere really.
They both sat; at opposite ends of the bench, sitting in awkward silence for a long moment before he seemed to decide that, as he had spoken first before, he should be the one to open the conversation once more. “My name’s Ianto, Ianto Jones.”
“Short for Ifan?” Iona questioned, smiling when he made a face at the very suggestion.
“No, just Ianto.”
“Iona Jones.” She returned, shrugging when he raised an eyebrow, “I can’t explain that choice, so don’t ask me to.”
He smiled, “You travelling with The Doctor?”
Iona considered that for a moment before shrugging, “If you mean a tall, daft bloke with a fondness for leather jackets and long sleeved t-shirts, with really big ears and a northern accent, then yes, I am.”
“Brought you trouble as well then has he?”
“Oh God yes.” Iona nodded, relieved to suddenly have an outlet to vent to that wasn’t The Doctor himself or the TARDIS, who seemed to just find Iona’s rants amusing, so far as she could tell at least.
Ianto laughed faintly, “It is fun though.”
Iona wrinkled her nose, “Maybe.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed, “So, you’re what, an alternate version of me?”
“Or,” Iona threw back, “you are an alternate version of me.”
“Right.” Ianto said, eyebrow raised. “Either way, we’re basically the same person.”
Iona frowned at him, “How do you figure that?”
Ianto sighed, “You have a sister called Rhiannon.”
“Older sister. Married to Johnny.”
“Davies, they have one kid.”
“David and one on the way, if the last conversation I had with her is anything to go by.”
“You called her from Brighton.”
Iona scowled, “Dad died in a road traffic accident.”
“In 2002, yeah.” Ianto filled in, deflating a little, suddenly finding his hands fascinating.
Iona sighed, “Ok so, basically the same person yeah, but not exactly the same person.”
Ianto considered this for a moment before he nodded, giving in to her reasoning, “No, because that would be far too creepy, all things considered.”
Iona gave him a warning look, “Wouldn’t it just.”
Ianto rolled his eyes and Iona had to fight the urge to stick her tongue out at him. Thank God she didn’t actually have a brother, Rhiannon alone was bad enough.
“So…” He said, gaze fixed on a point somewhere out to sea, clearly lost as to what exactly to say.
“When people ask, about growing up, about…dad, what do you say?” Iona blurted, not really thinking beyond the fact that it was just the two of them and who better to ask to judge her actions than herself…or the closest thing to herself she was ever likely to encounter.
Ianto flinched visibly, “Why?”
“Because of that.” Iona replied, knowing that he would get her meaning.
Ianto sighed, shaking his head, “I never say much and people don’t really ask.”
Iona ducked her head, smiling ruefully. It was true, if he was anything like her, she’d found that she was one of those people that never really got noticed. Her coffee might be good, she might always be well presented and be fairly bright, but she’d never been outstanding in anything.
Never been anything memorable.
“I always tell them that dad was a master tailor.” She admitted, Rhiannon’s critical voice echoing in her head even as she said it.
He smiled and it wasn’t a nice smile, there was an edge to it that made her wince, “Me too, not that anyone thinks anything of that. Or if they do it’s rarely good.”
“Rhiannon would say that’s your own fault for lying.” She said, staring at the footprints they’d left in the sand. There’s no breeze either. It’s perfectly still and it’s sunny still, nothing like the real place. It should be windy and cold and horrible, but maybe this place, wherever it is, is trying to tell her something about herself.
She kicked idly at the sand, shrugging unable to meet his gaze and at a loss as to what to say. It was one thing, lying to people she didn’t know, it was a whole other thing lying to herself; even if that self was male and normally resided in another universe, parallel to her own; if he really existed at all.
“It’s not like it’s really a lie.” He’s the one to break the silence and she doesn’t envy him that, “Not really.”
Iona’s nose wrinkled and she shook her head faintly, “Only it is.” She argued, “I mean that was before I, we, were even born. It’s not like I,” She stopped cursing silently before correcting herself, “we, have any actual memories of him working in his shop, or bringing work home, or any of that.” She sighed, rubbing her temple; this whole situation was giving her one hell of a headache.
“He worked at Debenhams, that’s all I ever remember him doing and he always hated it when mum mentioned before.” She added after a moment, when he still hadn’t reacted.
“Because he hated working there, but he kept working there because we needed the money.” Ianto said quietly. “If the shop hadn’t stopped making money, he never would have given it up. If Mum hadn’t gotten pregnant, he wouldn’t have given it up.” It’s a rather brutal comment, but nothing that she didn’t already know. That she hadn’t already considered.
Iona winced, “Maybe that’s why Rhiannon always hates me mentioning it.”
“Yeah.” Ianto nods, “Especially now, with kids of her own and everything.”
“If she knew what I was really doing, now, she’d say I was insane.” Iona commented after a moment, offering him a faint smile, trying to break from the dark turn that their conversation had taken.
Ianto laughed, nodding, “Yup, she would. As it is she’s going to give me a huge lecture when I finally turn up on her doorstep again.” Iona laughed, nodding in agreement before they both fell silent.
They shared a comfortable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, before Iona spoke, finally asking the question that she’d never quite been able to answer herself, honestly.
“Are you ever going to go back?” She asked, the words barely a whisper.
Ianto stiffened for a moment, glancing at her quickly before looking away, “Yeah, I think so.”
Iona smiled faintly, “Me too.” She agreed, relieved by the confirmation of her feelings. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy all of it, travelling with The Doctor, making a difference; it was just that she couldn’t see it as a ‘forever’ thing. She couldn’t see it as all her life would ever be. Plus, she misses Earth too much to keep going too long.
They sat like that, exchanging the odd question or comment for a few hours, until, tired out and hungry, Iona fell asleep.
When she woke, she was back on the TARDIS, lying on top of her covers, still fully dressed.
She lay like that for a while, considering what exactly it was that she had experienced, sitting on that beach, before she moving, hauling herself upright and setting off in search of The Doctor. Typically, the kitchen or the console room were the best bets. On this occasion he was in the kitchen.
"There you are. You took your time." The Doctor looked up at her over the top of his book. He was sitting in one of the chairs, his boots on the table, reading a book that Iona didn't recognise.
Iona stared at him suspiciously, crossing her arms over her stomach and leaning against the door frame. "So, what exactly happened then?"
"What exactly happened when?" He asked, making a point of turning a page of his book.
Iona rolled her eyes, "You know what I mean."
He kept reading, not answering for a full five minutes before he finally gave in, throwing the book onto the table and lowering his feet, turning so that he was facing her, clasping his hands together and resting them on his knees. "Yes I do."
"So?"
"We were invited."
"Invited where?"
"Exactly."
Iona sighed, shoulders sagging, "That isn't an answer."
"No, it isn't." He grinned, leaning back and crossing his arms over his stomach, watching her.
"I wish you wouldn't do that."
"Do what?"
Iona glared at him, "You know exactly what I mean."
"You say that a lot."
Iona was starting to wonder if she wouldn't be better off beating her head off a brick wall. "Doctor."
"Alright, fine, we were sent an invitation, don't ask me who by, because I don't know. The TARDIS received it and at that moment, we were there."
Iona frowned, "Where?"
The Doctor shook his head, "It doesn’t have a name, not as you humans think and it’s not any one place. It’s different for everyone. But, when you’re there, you learn stuff, answers to questions you never thought you wanted to ask. Whoever you meet there, they give you the answers, or help you find them yourself.” He stared at her, making her feel as though he could see every part of her, "There's more, but I can't tell you and even if I did, it might not be true. Like I said, it's different for everyone."
Iona watched him, waiting for him to expand on what he'd said, or preferably, make what he'd said make more sense, but he didn't. He just sat there, watching her for a long time before he grinned, standing and pulling her with him as he headed out of the room.
"I think I know exactly the place to take you Iona Jones." He announced, making it clear that the subject of the invitation and just what her excounter had been, was closed. He'd told her all he was going to. Had explained as much as he ever would.
Part Three