Boulevard Of Broken Dreams
Beta: The marvellous and spectacular hel_bee who has the patience of a saint and a heart of a lion (and makes this so much better to read.) Any other mistakes are mine, mine, mine all mine….
Chapter 31
On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams - 32
The voices stopped when Ianto reached the wrought iron gates as Jack, Martha and the Doctor watched his approach along the gravel path. Ianto folded the postcard and tucked it into his pocket.
Jack slid the latch across and held the gate open for him but it was the Doctor who spoke first as he jumped down from the old stone wall, rubbing the grit from his hands. “Did you know Martha’s never heard of ‘Man From UNCLE’?”
Ianto looked at her. “Illya Kuryakin? Napoleon Solo?” Martha shook her head with an indulgent smile.
Jack grinned, letting the gate slam without much reverence. “Ah, Robert and David sure could party. There was this one time…”
“Jack,” Ianto cut in, “I would be grateful if you wouldn’t shatter another of my childhood illusions.”
The captain gave a little smirk and held up his hands in surrender; Martha nudged his arm. “Come on, Jack, let’s go check out the ducks.”
Jack frowned. “Ducks?” Above them a microlight whined making Jack look up.
“Duck pond.” Martha tapped him again, a little harder this time as she gestured with her head across the village green.
Jack still looked confused and Martha raised her eyebrows, trying to articulate her meaning by nodding between Ianto and the Doctor. “Oh, yeah, ducks,” Jack replied. “Gotta check out that duck pond.” He linked arms with Martha. “Once around the pond, Dr Jones?”
Martha looked at Ianto and rolled her eyes. “Maybe twice,” she said with a wink.
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched them walk across the manicured cricket pitch like a couple of vaudevillians. “Never understood duck ponds.”
Ianto shrugged. “I don’t think there’s much to understand, unless you’re a duck, or a small child with a bag of stale bread,” he added.
They walked a little way along the narrow road that led from the church into the heart of village. Red brick council houses and picturesque Cruck cottages lined the way, as well as several pubs and a shop-cum-Post Office.
Ianto looked up; the microlight was still there, circling above them, stirring the sky in a blaze of red and yellow. The Doctor stopped to admire the setting. “Nice place this, very jam and Jerusalem.”
“Harry liked it here. It reminded him of where he grew up,” Ianto replied, still watching the small aircraft weave across the sky.
“Ah,” the Doctor said, nodding. He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about Harry, he was, well, he was one of a kind.”
Ianto glanced at him. “Yes, yes he was.”
For a moment the unspoken filled the air between them: the Doctor silently acknowledging the hard choice Ianto had made and Ianto’s own remorse at not saving Harry. The Doctor turned away, gazing at a war memorial proudly situated in the middle of the green. In the end there was nothing he could say to change what had happened. He sighed. “You’re not coming with me, are you?”
Ianto shook his head. “Not this time.”
The Doctor looked at him. “I’ll keep asking.”
“I know.”
The Time Lord nodded, knowing there would be little point in trying to persuade him further. “Ianto,” he began carefully, “the Master, I should be the one to…”
“He’s out of harm’s way,” Ianto assured him.
“In Torchwood’s care?” the Doctor said cynically.
“No, in mine.”
“Would you tell me where?” Their eyes held one another.
“Yes, if you were to ask,” Ianto replied honestly.
“And Jack?”
“Yes.”
The Doctor remained thoughtful for a while, resting his foot on an old stone boundary marker. Finally he nodded. “If there’s any change, if the young TARDIS becomes unstable…”
“You’ll know.”
The Doctor looked back along the path. “I helped Martha demolish the conversion unit the Master rebuilt, just in case your government had any ideas about researching its usefulness.”
“Good.” Ianto swallowed, bracing himself for what was coming.
“We also,” the Doctor hesitated, “we also dismantled Lisa and put her to rest.” He looked at his son, his gaze showing empathy. “We buried her deep, Ianto, destroyed all the technology on her, this time she’s truly gone.”
Ianto breathed a sigh of relief, closing his eyes. He felt the Doctor place a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered, before the Doctor removed his touch.
Ianto shifted his gaze back to the duck pond. “Are you going to say goodbye?”
“I?” The Time Lord followed his son’s gaze. “Ah,” he said again, shaking his head. “Never been very good at them.” He looked at Ianto. “Would you…?”
Ianto nodded.
“And Sarah Jane?”
Ianto smiled sadly. “She took his death badly.”
“They were very close,” the Doctor answered, kicking his foot against the stone.
“They could have been closer.” It came out reproachful which was not what Ianto had intended. “I didn’t mean…”
“I know.”
Ianto hesitated a moment. “Doctor, you and Jack?”
“Me and Jack?” Confusion flickered across the Doctor’s face. “Ah, me and Jack.” He sighed. “We’ll get over it; we just need a little…”
“Time?”
The Doctor smiled. “I think we’re made of similar matter.”
“Stubbornness.”
The Doctor gave a small laugh, putting his hands in his pockets. “And what about you and Jack?” he asked.
Ianto shrugged. “You’re good for one another,” the Doctor acknowledged.
“I know, but I sometimes wonder if Jack..?”
“He knows,” the Doctor answered.
Ianto looked down at the ground. “I guess we need to talk.”
The Doctor nodded. “I guess you do.”
The microlight flew over them again. The Doctor followed its path for a moment but his mind was elsewhere. “Ianto?”
“Hmm?” Ianto, too, turned his gaze skyward, shielding his eyes against the sunlight.
“Will you tell Jack about the Vortex? That there’s still a residue left, inside you?”
Ianto continued to watch the mircolight as if he hadn’t heard. “Yes,” he said finally as the small aircraft flew away from village.
“It’s quite unprecedented.” The Doctor watched his son carefully.
“So am I,” Ianto replied with a smirk.
The Doctor smiled. “Yes, yes you are. Well then,” he said, rubbing his hands together.
“Well then,” Ianto repeated awkwardly.
The Doctor gathered him into a tight and clumsy hug. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you then,” he said.
Ianto suddenly went rigid in his embrace, making the Doctor push away from him. “He will knock four times,” Ianto whispered, “and you will open the door.”
“Ianto?” The Doctor grabbed both his son’s arms, looking into his face; Ianto’s eyes burned with light.
“He will knock four times,” he repeated.
“Who? Who will knock four times?” the Doctor asked.
“Death.”
The Doctor released him and stepped back, holding onto Ianto’s gaze until the last vestiges of the Vortex retreated in a swirl of light. “Ianto?”
The young man blinked at his name, as if being called out from a day dream. “I..?” He looked around him. “I saw…” He shook his head. “I felt…”
Nothing.
It was gone, a snatch of something that left him cold.
The Doctor placed a hand on his son’s shoulder again. “It’s okay,” he said gently.
Ianto looked at him. “Something’s coming.”
The Doctor smiled lightly. “It always is.”
Another fixed moment in time. And if he was honest, the Doctor could feel it getting closer.
He clapped his hands together. “Well better, you know.” He gestured over the road to the pub car park where he’d left the TARDIS, already the lunchtime rush had monopolized the outdoor seating; the benches with shade being the first to go.
Ianto nodded, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards. “I know.”
The Doctor turned and started to jog away. “Ah!” he exclaimed, stopping abruptly. “I nearly forgot.”
He spun round and headed back, rummaging around in his pockets. “Aha! It’s always the last place you look.” He dug out a pen from the depths of his jacket and presented it to Ianto.
“A pen,” Ianto remarked, holding the weighty silver ballpoint aloft, trying to look interested.
“Not just any pen,” the Doctor commented, “I had to modify it slightly so I could merge all the components. It’s a little more slim line than usual.”
He smiled excitedly as he snatched it back and removed the pen’s end piece, flipping it round and reconnecting it, exposing a golden shank. He handed it back to Ianto who examined it a little closer. “It’s an UNCLE communicator,” he exclaimed, pulling the antenna out from the other side.
“Not quite, here.” The Doctor pressed down on the chrome grip; it made the familiar warble of the communicator but the end glowed with soft amber light.
“A sonic pen?” Ianto looked puzzled.
“Laser,” the Doctor replied smugly.
Ianto frowned. “The Master’s?”
“No, not any more, it’s yours. I reworked the screwdriver into a prop I had lying around the TARDIS; pretty neat, eh?” The Doctor crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels with delight.
Ianto pressed the chrome grip again, pointing it away from him. Several car alarms went off in the car park as their front tyres blew. The Doctor took it from him. “Ah, let me adjust that for you.” He fiddled with the top of the pen. Across the road, confused diners were inspecting their vehicles.
“There.” The Doctor handed it back. “You’ll get use to it, with a little practice.”
Ianto smiled, still studying the pen. “Thank you.”
“Well, missed a few birthdays, thought I’d get you something to make up for it.”
“And you recycled.” Ianto dismantled the pen and placed it in his pocket.
“You know me, anything to save a planet.”
Ianto smiled, waving off a few wasps that were loitering around them. “Well,” the Doctor said, taking a few backward steps. “Must be off, I’ll see you soon.” He turned and bounded over a post and chain fence, heading for the pub.
Ianto watched him for a short time before moving back down the road.
“Ianto?” the Doctor called from across the car park; Ianto spun round. “I will see you soon and if you need us, at any time…”
Ianto smiled and carried on.
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Chapter 33