Silver Service by a_silver_story | 26
Dec. 6th, 2009 01:38 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
a_silver_storyTitle: Silver Service
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
a_silver_story
Chapter: 26/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
Click banner for Fic!
If, when you read part 25, it was solely the newspaper article, then you ... er ... fell victim to my stupidity. You need to go here and read the prose that was supposed to happen before the article so that you're totally up to date ... sorry ...
PART | 26
“What are you doing?”
“Sending a letter.”
“Who to?”
“Someone important.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Let me see!”
“You’ll ruin the surprise for yourself, though. You don’t want to ruin anything, do you?”
“No.”
“Then be patient, and it’ll all make sense.”
~*~
Sullenly, Jack sat back down on the bed and allowed Ianto to run down to the front desk and organise for his letter to be sent. Quickly, he got bored, and began trying to think of something to do. Unfortunately, the only activities he could think of involved Ianto's help or some form of intervention, and he was getting restless as several different scenarios whizzed through his mind. Sitting on his hands to stop from fidgeting, he leaned back and closed his eyes, lying down across the bed.
The more you try to stop yourself, the more you touch him. The more you try to stay away, the closer you pull yourself. The harder you try to tell him, the more difficult it becomes to speak, until finally all that is left is a small voice at the back of your mind, telling you how wrong this is. How much hurt you’re causing. How much you’re hurting everybody.
You’re screaming inside ... you can see him, still trying to take care of you even though you did these awful, awful things. You try and control yourself, force yourself to speak with your own words, not these mad ramblings, but instead find yourself humming or laughing. Desperately you search for a way to tell him but your hands won’t do as they’re told. They are no longer your own, as your voice is no longer in your control, and your body is someone else’s.
Quieting yourself, you try and look for a way out, but there isn't one. You’re trapped. The only thing you can do is see and feel and know, concealed within this hellish prison.
One little nick in the blockade is all you need. One tiny little hole and you know you have the willpower to bleed through and push this madness out. When he – not you – relaxes, and Ianto is not there, that is when it is easier to search. Lying in wait, you patiently watch for when he lets his guard down, and then you poke and prod and feel, searching for the tiniest little speck, hoping he does not realise what you’re doing. What if he did? you wonder. Would he know? Would he stop me?
It’s been nearly a week since he took Ianto, and you haven’t stopped seething. And when those reporters came? It sickened you to see so much of yourself hijacked and squandered to ease that annoying blonde in the awful cardigan, scribbling in her notebook. Still, at least no one will be coming after you with pitchforks and burning torches.
You have remembered what Harold Saxon did. You have remembered about the two girls murdered before your eyes, the blunt syringe shoved mercilessly into your abdomen and the feeling of complete and utter despair as you slipped from consciousness. You knew, right there and then, that you were going to kill that man if it was the last thing you did.
Feeling around, it's like a strange smooth surface keeping you contained, a small bubble of conscious in your mind. You work over it methodically, every single part of it, pushing it, testing it, seeing if you can poke through even the tiniest bit. Something is constantly pushing back at you, stronger and more forceful, keeping you back. What is this? What could possibly do this?
Frustrated, you stop, trying to calm yourself before Ianto returns and the madman awakes. Your deep breath is metaphorical, but it has the same effect, relaxing you, helping you methodically begin searching, pushing and testing again.
And there it is.
A teeny, tiny, miniscule little spot, but it’s definitely there. A weak point, most certainly. Whatever it is that pushes you back is weaker here, and the more you push and the more your force it the smaller the resistance becomes. You go gently, knowing patience is the key, working on it a little at a time, committing its location to memory in case Ianto returns and the madman becomes alert, so you have to continue another time.
His eyes are closed and everything is black still, and you push that bit little further and you feel it give ever so slightly. It’s the tiniest hole, but you can make it bigger. You force yourself through a little way, pushing out, stretching. You can feel something fighting you, but this new motivation makes you fight it, carry on, no matter how weary you’re becoming as it tries to contain you again.
You can feel yourself winning, getting stronger, taking over. You open your eyes, and light spills into your conscious, the ceiling in front of you. Dragging yourself from the bed, almost having to crawl as you regain control, you stagger to the notepad Ianto had left on the side, scrambling for a pen. You scribble hastily, laughing to yourself simply because you can control the laughter now. You flex your fingers of your other hand as you scrawl, hoping the note will be readable, feeling that pressure trying to contain you again.
In the peripheral of your hearing, there footsteps outside, and know that Ianto is returning. The force is becoming too much, and you fight it as hard as you can, your head pounding in agony. You drop to the floor, clutching your head, feeling your eyes begin to leak salty tears of pain. It’s the strong hands that hold you close in comfort that break your willpower, and you find yourself contained and imprisoned, clawing at that seamless bubble again, feeling Ianto’s arms around him, taking the comfort that should be yours, crying the tears that had been your own and clinging to the man you should be loving.
Thinking of the note, you force yourself to that false calmness again, knowing that Ianto will find it, and Ianto will find a way to fix you. And then Ianto could go back to Lisa, where he was supposed to be, and you can go back to ... well, gambling, women, divorcing Adeiola and supposedly ‘becoming a better person’.
You have to put your trust in Ianto, your resolve spent, and you’ve done all you can. It’s up to him now, and you know he can do it. You also know it could take days; it could take weeks; it could take years, but he’d do it.
All you can do now is lie in wait.
“C’mon, Jack. Shhhhh ... what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong ....”
“My head, Ianto ... this pain ... blinding pain ....”
Ianto eased him until he was sat leaning against the foot of the bed, and briefly left him to find ibuprofen and fetch a glass of water. He returned and sat beside him, offering him the tablets and making sure he drank them down, allowing him to curl up against him and stroking his hair until he calmed.
“It’s just a headache.” he soothed, trying not to sound exasperated or frustrated by Jack’s behaviour. For the past week he had been tumbling downhill, his behaviour more and more erratic. Sometimes, he would do or say something so Jack-like, Ianto could believe he was fine, but the rest of the time he was ... different.
Ianto's instincts kept calmly trying to persuade him to tell someone, but he continued making up excuses for himself not to get any outsiders involved just yet. He sighed, managing to persuade Jack into bed for non-sexual purposes, and tucked him in, humming softly until he drifted off. Disentangling himself from Jack’s grip, he straightened his suit out and went to pick up the pen that had rolled onto the floor. Frowning, he set it back on the dresser, and frowning deeper still, saw that Jack had been writing something when his headache had come on.
He scanned the almost unintelligible writing, and felt his eyes widen as he tried to drink in what Jack was trying to tell him. Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes, part of him glad, part of him completely and utterly terrified.
Ianto ran over what he had just learned in his mind, lying behind Jack and spooning into him – for the first time since before Christmas, he felt comfortable there. He stroked Jack’s hair, thinking.
At least now he knew this wasn’t Jack’s fault. At least now he knew what was really going on. At least now he knew this may be fixed – at least, Jack had faith in him to figure out how to fix it.
What made him hurt was the fact he now knew his Jack was imprisoned by ... whatever it was that was using his body. He could see everything, and feel everything, but could do nothing, having no control.
Ianto thought of the final words, hastily scribbled at the bottom of the note: “Find Faith”.
Jack had spoken of her to Ianto before. It was her fault they were all in this mess. How was he supposed to find her? Did she live somewhere close? Would he have to leave Jack in order to locate where she was?
Ianto sighed heavily, leaning into Jack’s ear. “I don’t know where to start,” he whispered. “but I will help you. I promise – I will help you. And I always keep my promises ....”
FIN
Comment if you liked, or if you didn't, or if you're simply feeling type-ish.
In other news, you must all fall down and worship the wonderfully amazingly brilliantfrankiesblue who has just sent me a lovely v-gift that you can all see on my profile. Thank you very much, my dear. I love it to pieces. It also inspires me to bake ^_^
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Author:
a_silver_storyChapter: 26/?
Genre: AU, Romance, Angsty, fluffy
Rating: NC17 / 18
Pairings: Main Pairing is Jack/Ianto. Also includes Ianto/Martha, Ianto/Tosh friendship, Ten/Tosh, Mickey/Martha (mentioned)
Warnings: M.M, rentboy!Ianto, Alternate Universe, torture (not graphic)
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know. Now pass the retcon ...
Summary: Started as a PWP, but since it's me (sorry folks!) and I really can't do things by halves, it grew and grew and grew (and not in an innuendous sort of way). Doctor Smith owns a posh Cardiff hotel, and the respectable Sixth Earl of Boeshane is coming to stay - and he brings with him some very specific demands.
The story follows Ianto from being born, meeting Toshiko and them running away together to the city, right up until Ianto is taken to work in the Doctor's hotel as a 'service' butler for - you guessed it - Jack.
Everyone's fave OTP ensues. BOO YA!
Torchwood Index/Masterlist
FIRST PART | Chapter 1
Click banner for Fic!
If, when you read part 25, it was solely the newspaper article, then you ... er ... fell victim to my stupidity. You need to go here and read the prose that was supposed to happen before the article so that you're totally up to date ... sorry ...
PART | 26
“What are you doing?”
“Sending a letter.”
“Who to?”
“Someone important.”
“What does it say?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Let me see!”
“You’ll ruin the surprise for yourself, though. You don’t want to ruin anything, do you?”
“No.”
“Then be patient, and it’ll all make sense.”
Sullenly, Jack sat back down on the bed and allowed Ianto to run down to the front desk and organise for his letter to be sent. Quickly, he got bored, and began trying to think of something to do. Unfortunately, the only activities he could think of involved Ianto's help or some form of intervention, and he was getting restless as several different scenarios whizzed through his mind. Sitting on his hands to stop from fidgeting, he leaned back and closed his eyes, lying down across the bed.
The more you try to stop yourself, the more you touch him. The more you try to stay away, the closer you pull yourself. The harder you try to tell him, the more difficult it becomes to speak, until finally all that is left is a small voice at the back of your mind, telling you how wrong this is. How much hurt you’re causing. How much you’re hurting everybody.
You’re screaming inside ... you can see him, still trying to take care of you even though you did these awful, awful things. You try and control yourself, force yourself to speak with your own words, not these mad ramblings, but instead find yourself humming or laughing. Desperately you search for a way to tell him but your hands won’t do as they’re told. They are no longer your own, as your voice is no longer in your control, and your body is someone else’s.
Quieting yourself, you try and look for a way out, but there isn't one. You’re trapped. The only thing you can do is see and feel and know, concealed within this hellish prison.
One little nick in the blockade is all you need. One tiny little hole and you know you have the willpower to bleed through and push this madness out. When he – not you – relaxes, and Ianto is not there, that is when it is easier to search. Lying in wait, you patiently watch for when he lets his guard down, and then you poke and prod and feel, searching for the tiniest little speck, hoping he does not realise what you’re doing. What if he did? you wonder. Would he know? Would he stop me?
It’s been nearly a week since he took Ianto, and you haven’t stopped seething. And when those reporters came? It sickened you to see so much of yourself hijacked and squandered to ease that annoying blonde in the awful cardigan, scribbling in her notebook. Still, at least no one will be coming after you with pitchforks and burning torches.
You have remembered what Harold Saxon did. You have remembered about the two girls murdered before your eyes, the blunt syringe shoved mercilessly into your abdomen and the feeling of complete and utter despair as you slipped from consciousness. You knew, right there and then, that you were going to kill that man if it was the last thing you did.
Feeling around, it's like a strange smooth surface keeping you contained, a small bubble of conscious in your mind. You work over it methodically, every single part of it, pushing it, testing it, seeing if you can poke through even the tiniest bit. Something is constantly pushing back at you, stronger and more forceful, keeping you back. What is this? What could possibly do this?
Frustrated, you stop, trying to calm yourself before Ianto returns and the madman awakes. Your deep breath is metaphorical, but it has the same effect, relaxing you, helping you methodically begin searching, pushing and testing again.
And there it is.
A teeny, tiny, miniscule little spot, but it’s definitely there. A weak point, most certainly. Whatever it is that pushes you back is weaker here, and the more you push and the more your force it the smaller the resistance becomes. You go gently, knowing patience is the key, working on it a little at a time, committing its location to memory in case Ianto returns and the madman becomes alert, so you have to continue another time.
His eyes are closed and everything is black still, and you push that bit little further and you feel it give ever so slightly. It’s the tiniest hole, but you can make it bigger. You force yourself through a little way, pushing out, stretching. You can feel something fighting you, but this new motivation makes you fight it, carry on, no matter how weary you’re becoming as it tries to contain you again.
You can feel yourself winning, getting stronger, taking over. You open your eyes, and light spills into your conscious, the ceiling in front of you. Dragging yourself from the bed, almost having to crawl as you regain control, you stagger to the notepad Ianto had left on the side, scrambling for a pen. You scribble hastily, laughing to yourself simply because you can control the laughter now. You flex your fingers of your other hand as you scrawl, hoping the note will be readable, feeling that pressure trying to contain you again.
In the peripheral of your hearing, there footsteps outside, and know that Ianto is returning. The force is becoming too much, and you fight it as hard as you can, your head pounding in agony. You drop to the floor, clutching your head, feeling your eyes begin to leak salty tears of pain. It’s the strong hands that hold you close in comfort that break your willpower, and you find yourself contained and imprisoned, clawing at that seamless bubble again, feeling Ianto’s arms around him, taking the comfort that should be yours, crying the tears that had been your own and clinging to the man you should be loving.
Thinking of the note, you force yourself to that false calmness again, knowing that Ianto will find it, and Ianto will find a way to fix you. And then Ianto could go back to Lisa, where he was supposed to be, and you can go back to ... well, gambling, women, divorcing Adeiola and supposedly ‘becoming a better person’.
You have to put your trust in Ianto, your resolve spent, and you’ve done all you can. It’s up to him now, and you know he can do it. You also know it could take days; it could take weeks; it could take years, but he’d do it.
All you can do now is lie in wait.
“C’mon, Jack. Shhhhh ... what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong ....”
“My head, Ianto ... this pain ... blinding pain ....”
Ianto eased him until he was sat leaning against the foot of the bed, and briefly left him to find ibuprofen and fetch a glass of water. He returned and sat beside him, offering him the tablets and making sure he drank them down, allowing him to curl up against him and stroking his hair until he calmed.
“It’s just a headache.” he soothed, trying not to sound exasperated or frustrated by Jack’s behaviour. For the past week he had been tumbling downhill, his behaviour more and more erratic. Sometimes, he would do or say something so Jack-like, Ianto could believe he was fine, but the rest of the time he was ... different.
Ianto's instincts kept calmly trying to persuade him to tell someone, but he continued making up excuses for himself not to get any outsiders involved just yet. He sighed, managing to persuade Jack into bed for non-sexual purposes, and tucked him in, humming softly until he drifted off. Disentangling himself from Jack’s grip, he straightened his suit out and went to pick up the pen that had rolled onto the floor. Frowning, he set it back on the dresser, and frowning deeper still, saw that Jack had been writing something when his headache had come on.
He scanned the almost unintelligible writing, and felt his eyes widen as he tried to drink in what Jack was trying to tell him. Taking deep breaths, he closed his eyes, part of him glad, part of him completely and utterly terrified.
Ianto ran over what he had just learned in his mind, lying behind Jack and spooning into him – for the first time since before Christmas, he felt comfortable there. He stroked Jack’s hair, thinking.
At least now he knew this wasn’t Jack’s fault. At least now he knew what was really going on. At least now he knew this may be fixed – at least, Jack had faith in him to figure out how to fix it.
What made him hurt was the fact he now knew his Jack was imprisoned by ... whatever it was that was using his body. He could see everything, and feel everything, but could do nothing, having no control.
Ianto thought of the final words, hastily scribbled at the bottom of the note: “Find Faith”.
Jack had spoken of her to Ianto before. It was her fault they were all in this mess. How was he supposed to find her? Did she live somewhere close? Would he have to leave Jack in order to locate where she was?
Ianto sighed heavily, leaning into Jack’s ear. “I don’t know where to start,” he whispered. “but I will help you. I promise – I will help you. And I always keep my promises ....”
FIN
Comment if you liked, or if you didn't, or if you're simply feeling type-ish.
In other news, you must all fall down and worship the wonderfully amazingly brilliant
frankiesblue who has just sent me a lovely v-gift that you can all see on my profile. Thank you very much, my dear. I love it to pieces. It also inspires me to bake ^_^
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 01:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 02:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 02:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 03:22 am (UTC)YAY!!! That Jack was able to break free for a bit to leave Ianto a note. Ianto will help him! :D
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 03:36 am (UTC)this is GREAT!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 05:47 am (UTC)look forward to the next chapter!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 05:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 06:00 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 06:34 am (UTC)go jack! go ianto!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 09:31 am (UTC)I love this story &hearts
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 10:49 am (UTC)i hope this all turns out okay!
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 10:56 am (UTC)Poor Jack, but it's good that he has kept fighting...
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 11:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 12:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 12:58 pm (UTC)Well done and I'm looking forward to the next one! :-)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 02:46 pm (UTC)Any chance that Jack and Ianto will be happy again, before Christmas...
No wait, don't answer that, they seem to be, and that is more than good enough :o)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 03:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-06 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-07 01:48 am (UTC)Love it... :)
no subject
Date: 2009-12-07 07:33 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-09 12:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-12-15 04:13 pm (UTC)