fic: once entwined
eep, i wrote a ficlet -
title. once entwined
focus. doctor who/torchwood, martha/ianto. tiny touches of jack/ianto, etc.
genre. angst, bit romanc-y, het. au, sort of.
summary. 'for just that one moment - right there, between two shared breaths - they could forget the world around them still existed.' - 1st part takes place during the year that never was, 2nd part is set during martha's visit to torchwood in tw's season 2
i wrote martha/ianto. & i don't even ship them... i never even thought of shipping them - i just wanted to write something to shut off for a bit, this is what came out. well... i think i may now start to ship them, they're so pretty together! is there even any martha/ianto stuff out there? hmm... *off to search for martha/ianto comm*
& once more: this is unbeta-ed, if you see errors, they're all mine - if you point them out, i will correct them. tw & dw is not mine, really. this was just written for a bit of fun (or angst). any kind of feedback is loved to pieces & gets to sleep beside my stuffed dinosaur...
-
Once Entwined
-
one.
"It's gonna be fine," he whispered and pulled her down - out of another dark thought - into a kiss that didn't taste of fear and desperation. There was something else, almost like love, a sense of belonging. Adoration and trust. His lips wandered over her beautiful face - too beautiful to be mine, his mind murmured - nibbling along her jaw, eating up her smile.
"You'll see, it's gonna be just fine." Her smile disappeared and this time their kiss tasted of the sea and farewells. One lover stepping aboard a ship with unknown destination, the other staying behind, waving. Until he forgot.
He laid one hand on her cheek and traced her lower lip with a broad thumb, his palm smoothing away a few escaped tears.
"Fine..." Her voice almost trembled, "that is a contradiction in itself." Sinking down to lay beside him on the floor, she laid her head on his chest, letting him card his fingers through her long hair - open and untamed. Her own fingers trailed over his chest, not teasing - just feeling. Nipples, the soft hair, the scarred skin where he'd been hit by a laser weapon, the strong heartbeat. "Either we'll all die or we'll live and you won't remember me."
The fingers in her hair tightened - his other hand covered hers. He kissed the top of her head, trying to imprint the feel of the unwashed strands on his senses - the smell of freedom that clung to her body like a cloud, the taste of strength.
"It has to be done, cariad."
For a moment they still lay entwined, their naked limbs tangled up and pressed together. Black and white combining and contrasting - his pale skin and her darkness. They were too different to last - his calm stoic beauty and her exuberant playfulness. They clashed and they burned and it felt like there had never been anyone else.
But Jack.
And the Doctor.
And for just that one moment - right there, between two shared breaths - they could forget the world around them still existed. The chaos, destruction and darkness that slept beside them in the dust. She closed her eyes, kissing the skin under her lips, trying to make the seconds last eternities - that moment when his fingers slid down her back, her ass, clutching her body to his own... That second where she knew he loved her.
And it was him trembling, him trying to swallow words that he couldn't say - because he knew that she would have to remember them.
He kissed her again just to keep his lips occupied.
"I wish I could never forget you, Martha Jones."
-
two.
"You okay, Martha?"
She nodded distractedly, still watching Ianto who was leaning over a desk, studying some files. Tosh said something beside him and he turned to look at her. Martha felt her breath catch, the image of the pretty young man in the suit overlapping with her own Ianto Jones - a warrior adorned with battle scars and the hard look of loss, yet still - or just because of that - painfully beautiful, robbing her of her breath.
Startled, she jerked back, when a hand touched her shoulder, she snapped her eyes closed over unshed tears. She couldn't -
"Martha?"
Jack's voice was gentle, and she looked at him, at the memory of something that had never happened in his eyes. His pain. She tried to smile.
"You seem happy with - with," she couldn't say his name. "With him." It was only a whisper.
She had her own life now. The Doctor, whom she could now remember without it feeling like something tearing in her chest. And she had Tom, a man which she had come to love. But it just wasn't -
"Ianto..." It wasn't a question. She felt Jack move closer to her, still touching her shoulder, lending support. He sounded disbelieving and astonished and insecure all at the same time. She looked up at him to find him studying Ianto just as intensely as she had before.
Nodding, "yes." She swallowed and tried to forget the feel of his lips on hers. "Him."
"I am."
Happy with him. She had been happy with him, as much as it had been possible.
"He loves you, Jack. You have no idea how much."
For a moment Jack stayed silent, reliving something in his mind. Breathing time. "How much?"
She understood the question, she knew why he needed to know, needed to ask.
"As much as I love the Doctor."
And when their eyes met she knew she wouldn't have to say anything else - it was written in every line of her face and of the words she spoke. And Jack looked sad and happy at the same time - compassionate, mourning her loss and at the same time - in love.
-
It was his presence, the memory of him catching her that made her stumble.
And he caught her.
The perfect gentleman. Smooth skinned and shiny. Rough, but no scars marring his youth. Aloof, but at the same time so close to her - knowing everyone's most intimate secret. Remembering how to touch her body to make her catch fire.
Unknowingly.
His eyes were closed and he almost clung to her, his nose buried in her hair - his breathing deep - she could feel his heart beating through the layers of clothing and imagined the soft unblemished skin of his chest.
"What is it?" She could only whisper, because the sense of Déjà Vu was so strong. Because she hadn't felt his fingers tighten over hers in so long. She watched in breathless astonishment as he shook his head - slowly, as if to clear it of a memory. Or to regain one.
Then he forced a mask over his eyes again and smiled distractedly, "I'm sorry, it's just a Déjà Vu."
She stared at him - it is. She couldn’t say the words and he released her, still smiling.
"Somehow you don't look it, but you smell like the wilderness, Miss Jones."
"Like freedom." He had whispered, as he'd bent down to kiss her.
-
fin.
title. once entwined
focus. doctor who/torchwood, martha/ianto. tiny touches of jack/ianto, etc.
genre. angst, bit romanc-y, het. au, sort of.
summary. 'for just that one moment - right there, between two shared breaths - they could forget the world around them still existed.' - 1st part takes place during the year that never was, 2nd part is set during martha's visit to torchwood in tw's season 2
i wrote martha/ianto. & i don't even ship them... i never even thought of shipping them - i just wanted to write something to shut off for a bit, this is what came out. well... i think i may now start to ship them, they're so pretty together! is there even any martha/ianto stuff out there? hmm... *off to search for martha/ianto comm*
& once more: this is unbeta-ed, if you see errors, they're all mine - if you point them out, i will correct them. tw & dw is not mine, really. this was just written for a bit of fun (or angst). any kind of feedback is loved to pieces & gets to sleep beside my stuffed dinosaur...
-
Once Entwined
-
one.
"It's gonna be fine," he whispered and pulled her down - out of another dark thought - into a kiss that didn't taste of fear and desperation. There was something else, almost like love, a sense of belonging. Adoration and trust. His lips wandered over her beautiful face - too beautiful to be mine, his mind murmured - nibbling along her jaw, eating up her smile.
"You'll see, it's gonna be just fine." Her smile disappeared and this time their kiss tasted of the sea and farewells. One lover stepping aboard a ship with unknown destination, the other staying behind, waving. Until he forgot.
He laid one hand on her cheek and traced her lower lip with a broad thumb, his palm smoothing away a few escaped tears.
"Fine..." Her voice almost trembled, "that is a contradiction in itself." Sinking down to lay beside him on the floor, she laid her head on his chest, letting him card his fingers through her long hair - open and untamed. Her own fingers trailed over his chest, not teasing - just feeling. Nipples, the soft hair, the scarred skin where he'd been hit by a laser weapon, the strong heartbeat. "Either we'll all die or we'll live and you won't remember me."
The fingers in her hair tightened - his other hand covered hers. He kissed the top of her head, trying to imprint the feel of the unwashed strands on his senses - the smell of freedom that clung to her body like a cloud, the taste of strength.
"It has to be done, cariad."
For a moment they still lay entwined, their naked limbs tangled up and pressed together. Black and white combining and contrasting - his pale skin and her darkness. They were too different to last - his calm stoic beauty and her exuberant playfulness. They clashed and they burned and it felt like there had never been anyone else.
But Jack.
And the Doctor.
And for just that one moment - right there, between two shared breaths - they could forget the world around them still existed. The chaos, destruction and darkness that slept beside them in the dust. She closed her eyes, kissing the skin under her lips, trying to make the seconds last eternities - that moment when his fingers slid down her back, her ass, clutching her body to his own... That second where she knew he loved her.
And it was him trembling, him trying to swallow words that he couldn't say - because he knew that she would have to remember them.
He kissed her again just to keep his lips occupied.
"I wish I could never forget you, Martha Jones."
-
two.
"You okay, Martha?"
She nodded distractedly, still watching Ianto who was leaning over a desk, studying some files. Tosh said something beside him and he turned to look at her. Martha felt her breath catch, the image of the pretty young man in the suit overlapping with her own Ianto Jones - a warrior adorned with battle scars and the hard look of loss, yet still - or just because of that - painfully beautiful, robbing her of her breath.
Startled, she jerked back, when a hand touched her shoulder, she snapped her eyes closed over unshed tears. She couldn't -
"Martha?"
Jack's voice was gentle, and she looked at him, at the memory of something that had never happened in his eyes. His pain. She tried to smile.
"You seem happy with - with," she couldn't say his name. "With him." It was only a whisper.
She had her own life now. The Doctor, whom she could now remember without it feeling like something tearing in her chest. And she had Tom, a man which she had come to love. But it just wasn't -
"Ianto..." It wasn't a question. She felt Jack move closer to her, still touching her shoulder, lending support. He sounded disbelieving and astonished and insecure all at the same time. She looked up at him to find him studying Ianto just as intensely as she had before.
Nodding, "yes." She swallowed and tried to forget the feel of his lips on hers. "Him."
"I am."
Happy with him. She had been happy with him, as much as it had been possible.
"He loves you, Jack. You have no idea how much."
For a moment Jack stayed silent, reliving something in his mind. Breathing time. "How much?"
She understood the question, she knew why he needed to know, needed to ask.
"As much as I love the Doctor."
And when their eyes met she knew she wouldn't have to say anything else - it was written in every line of her face and of the words she spoke. And Jack looked sad and happy at the same time - compassionate, mourning her loss and at the same time - in love.
-
It was his presence, the memory of him catching her that made her stumble.
And he caught her.
The perfect gentleman. Smooth skinned and shiny. Rough, but no scars marring his youth. Aloof, but at the same time so close to her - knowing everyone's most intimate secret. Remembering how to touch her body to make her catch fire.
Unknowingly.
His eyes were closed and he almost clung to her, his nose buried in her hair - his breathing deep - she could feel his heart beating through the layers of clothing and imagined the soft unblemished skin of his chest.
"What is it?" She could only whisper, because the sense of Déjà Vu was so strong. Because she hadn't felt his fingers tighten over hers in so long. She watched in breathless astonishment as he shook his head - slowly, as if to clear it of a memory. Or to regain one.
Then he forced a mask over his eyes again and smiled distractedly, "I'm sorry, it's just a Déjà Vu."
She stared at him - it is. She couldn’t say the words and he released her, still smiling.
"Somehow you don't look it, but you smell like the wilderness, Miss Jones."
"Like freedom." He had whispered, as he'd bent down to kiss her.
-
fin.