Fic: Blown Fuses 1/1
Title: Blown Fuses. Author: Lopaka Tanu Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Torchwood. Characters: Doctor (10), Ianto Words: 1325 Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood Pairing: None Rating: General Warnings: Language, Slight OOC, Violence, Ianto Hurting. Summary: After Martha turns him down, the Doctor is unpleasantly surprised. Author's Note: 1.) Torchwood 1 employees are trained in psychic fields. 2.) Takes placing during the last few minutes of "Last of the Time Lords" before the Doctor leaves Martha at her parent's place. 3.) Yes, this definitely is a little OOC. ______________________________________
Staring up at the central column of the TARDIS, housing the Time Vortex, the Doctor once again questioned how much. How much longer must he go on? How much of himself did he have left to give? How much time did he have left before he would join his people once again? How much of his misery was his own doing, and how much just pure bad luck? How much never seemed so damned before.
Martha had decided how much loneliness was enough for her. Jack was just beginning to ask how much living was worth. He guessed they would be happier on their quests than he on his own.
Sighing with a high pitched whine, he plopped down on the stool that was sometimes there, and sometimes not. The TARDIS was amusing like that. Though, the stool seemed more uncomfortable today. He wondered how much of that was his own melancholy, and how much the TARDIS' doing.
He snorted. The phrase sounded almost vulgar in its simplicity. The answer was rarely ever desirable for those paying the price. It was all in the willing and needs. How much did you need it, and how much were you willing to give up to get it? Yes, it was how much all over...again?
Raising his head, the Doctor looked about. He could swear he felt something, almost as if a brush of wind against his collar. It should be impossible in the TARDIS since he had rerouted all the main vents through the floor. Glancing to the doors, lost in thoughts of mad redesigns, he spotted something moving.
Shrieking, the Doctor fell from his chair. His hands shot out to catch himself on the control console, too late. Hitting the floor hard, he gasped in pain. It was a most undignified position, compounded by the fact his lower vertebrae now hurt. He took a moment to compose himself before wincing and standing.
The Doctor adjusted his coat, knocking off the little dust from his bottom before looking back to the figure. Sure enough, it was still there and waiting for him. Clearing his throat, he kept the chair between himself and the obvious human man. "Can I help you?"
Arms folded behind his back, the man observed the inside of the TARDIS with a bland expression. "You are the Doctor?"
"I've been called that." Something about the air coming from the man's direction made him uneasy. The collar twitching feeling was back bringing with it a host of spine tingles. Backing up a step, the Doctor's fingers twitched with the need for his sonic screwdriver. "What do you want with me?"
The man began to walk up the ramp. Each step barely registered in hearing range. Gaze impassive, he swept his line of sight over the controls. "You are hardly a threat."
"That's what I keep telling people, they just don't bother to listen." He grabbed the sonic screwdriver. It wasn't a conscious effort, something he could have controlled. When the man's eyes landed upon his face once more, his entire body twitched with the need to move. "What are you?"
"I am a threat." Blue eyes narrowed, he stopped at the control console. "Your vessel is cobbled together, ramshackle, yet it does not fail. Impressive. I am certain the others would have felt so." He raised one hand to run along the controls, causing the TARDIS to click and hiss in response. "Had they survived, that is."
The Doctor was almost afraid who 'they' were. A twinge in his head was a mental reaction of the TARDIS to being touched by this person. Whatever, whoever he was, it didn't like him touching her. Before he could query why, the man was standing directly in front of him. Wide eyed, he backed up a step. He hadn't seen the man move.
Hands shooting out, he grabbed the Doctor by the lapels. He raised the Time Lord off the deck until he was well above the man's head. "Where is Jack Harkness?"
Twin hearts beating, desperate to get out of his chest, the Doctor pointed at the doors. "He's gone back to his people." Feeling as if the world was suddenly pulled out from under him, the Doctor was back on his feet, having to clutch at the console to maintain his balance. When he looked up for the man, he found him staggering towards the doors.
The paralyzing fear was gone, leaving only confusion it its wake. While he wasn't quite sure what exactly had happened, he knew he had to stop the man from getting away if he wanted answers. Sliding around the console, he slammed a hand down upon a button. "Oh no you don't!"
Crying out, the man fell to the now electrified grate under him. His entire body spasmed until the power to the grate was shut down. The spot where his coat bunched under his knees gave off the smell of burnt hair, but he was other wise unharmed physically.
Finally able to stand, the Doctor staggered towards the downed figure. There were several some things going on and he needed to find out what they were. Why hadn't he sensed when the man came aboard the TARDIS? Why hadn't the TARDIS done anything about him? What did he want with Jack? He had several theories to those questions, so now he wanted definitives.
For starters, he knelt beside the unconscious figure. Searching the outer pockets of his jacket, he found a bottle of water and an alien scanning device, Dentros if he was correct. It had been outfitted with Earth specifications and reprogrammed to English. That almost confirmed one of his theories, but left the door wide open on 'how did he go undetected and how did he scare the hell out of me'?
Reaching in to the inner pocket of the jacket, he hit pay dirt. The ID clearly confirmed his theory the man was Torchwood. That alone almost earned him to be thrown out the doors. One Ianto Jones now lay on the ramp of his TARDIS unconscious and dangerous. Grabbing the cuffs he found in Ianto's back pocket, he restrained the man's arms behind his back.
With a supreme amount of effort, the Doctor rolled Ianto on to his back. For a man equal in height to himself, he weighed a surprisingly amount more. The search of Ianto's front pockets were fraught with dangers as the human liked deep pockets. Aside from twenty, five pound notes, there was nothing.
Feeling slightly hysterical, the Doctor sat back on the grating. As far as he knew, humans weren't capable of empathic intrusions, but it was the only theory that made sense given the lack of technological explanation. That meant this Ianto Jones was extremely dangerous, even to one with as much telepathic experience as himself. Unsettled, he decided against releasing Ianto upon an unsuspecting Earth once more until he could be certain he wasn't...
The Doctor frowned. What would make him allow one such as Ianto to roam free after this attack? The man was clearly a credible threat to Earth, and as its unofficial mascot/self appointed savior, at least according to Jack, he would be remiss in letting him go. No, for the sake of humanity and possibly the Universe, Ianto Jones had to be locked away under his watchful supervision.
It would be a long journey, but he was up for the challenge.
Humming to himself without realizing it, the Doctor stood up on now more sturdy legs and walked to the controls. He turned a few cranks, flipped a lever, and pressed the one button that had any effect on the TARDIS' time vortex. By the time the familiar screeching of the manipulator echoed in the central chamber, he was almost giddy. Glancing over his shoulder at the unconscious man, his body twitched.
"Most definitely something suspicious." How much was best forgotten.