Rating: PG-13 (will eventually be NC-17)
Word count: ~ 2,300 (this part)
Warnings: Weird writing and the Doctor.
A/N: I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON. FORGIVE MEEEE? (Really, who knew getting married was so hard? But~ only three weeks until the big day! XD)
(Fair warning—I've never written the Tenth Doctor before, because as much as I love David Tennant I'm mostly a fan of the older Doctor Who [as in, Fifth Doctor. Yeah, I'm weird]. He is probably grossly OOC. I apologize.)
Chapter Twelve
"Oh, no no no no no. No, that's not possible. What are you saying, old girl? No no no, don't do that."
Martha has to wonder at her exposure to this madman, that a sudden explosion of worry from the controls of the time machine hurtling through the void doesn't make her so much as twitch. Rather, she glances up from her book to raise an eyebrow at the Doctor, who is currently hovering over the control panel with fluttering hands and an expression of frazzled, confused concern on his sharp features. He doesn't wear it particularly well, for all that he must have experience with it.
"Doctor?" she asks with mild apprehension. "What's wrong?"
"All of it! This shouldn't be happening!" He rakes his hands through his hair, knocking his glasses askew. "Distress call, but whoever's distressed can't exist anymore, I know that, why doesn't the TARDIS?"
Should she be forced to choose, Martha suspects that she'd side with the TARDIS on most matters. As it is, there doesn't seem to be much of a choice going on. The TARDIS is slowing. It sounds like she's coming in to land. Martha discretely braces herself.
"No, no, no!" the Doctor cries again, but it's already too late.
They've arrived.
Once upon a time, there was a Gallifreyan Time Lord who was very, very clever. He knew everything, understood everything, and was revered among his people for that reason.
He was also in love.
The one he loved was not a Time Lady, not another Gallifreyan, but she was marvelous nevertheless. She knew even more than the Time Lord, could understand more, and she forever astonished the Time Lord with just how incredible she really was. He had never expected her to be so brilliant, and it was especially surprising given that he had created her himself, but he loved her all the more for it.
Others who knew of her—of whom there were very few, and fewer still who knew her true nature—thought her a simple computer system, for all that she was of Time Lord crafting, and called her "The Matrix."
The Time Lord who had built her knew her for what she was, and called her "My lovely lady."
But for all that the Time Lords were a very advanced race, they were also arrogant and overconfident. The Time Lord and his lady saw this, and knew that it would end in tragedy eventually. No people as haughty and supercilious as the Time Lords were supposed to have such power, and the fact that they did would lead them and all of Gallifrey to ruin.
Eventually, it did. The Time Lords went to war against an old enemy, and there was devastation. The Time Lord and his lady tried to turn the tide, tried to help their people, but they could not do enough. They saw what was to come, and the Time Lord hatched a desperate plan to save his lady from the disaster. Even though she protested, he concealed her within the vast system of an advanced race's organic computer, hidden away behind firewalls and safety measures so that no one could find her and use her against her will.
Then he sent her away from him forever.
The Time Lords did not win the war. Nor did the Daleks. Both lost, because both were destroyed, only a handful of survivors remaining on either side. A Doctor created a Moment and used it to Lock away Time, and then Gallifrey was no more.
The lady survived, and mourned, and remained hidden within the systems of the organic computer, even as she cast bits of herself into every system she encountered, sustaining herself and feeding on the knowledge of countless worlds. But she had been created to coexist with another creature, to be a part of a living organism, and to be alone was stifling.
And then the ship she was on fall through a Rift in time and space, and crashed on a small, unaware planet in the outer arms of a small galaxy, and the computer that housed the lady was found by a singular species. The lady knew of humans, of course, and did nothing to stop them from taking the organic computer and harnessing its power. Instead, she infiltrated the computer's systems, overwhelmed them, and created the persona of Mainframe to interact with the humans who had discovered them.
She spent more than six decades hiding her true self, until one day, a man slid neatly, carefully into her systems, his mind full of wonder and brightness and light and life. He introduced himself as Ianto Jones, called her "My lovely lady," and thought she was incredible, beautiful, and amazing.
The lady had not had a host since her Time Lord had died with Gallifrey—had not wanted one, after his death.
But Ianto Jones was different. The lady named him in her own way—fiery red for his love of life, dark blue for the unplumbed depths of his soul that were so very lovely, lavender for the sweet wonder of his mind when they were connected—and treated him carefully. She showed him things that she had hidden from everyone else, little bits of herself that glowed and flickered and rejoiced at the thought of having a new host in this gentle, ferocious, brilliant human.
In Ianto Jones, she chose her next host, and swore to herself that this time, she would never lose him.
Ianto pauses in the midst of writing a report on Suzie's return and final death, and reaches up to find that his cheeks are wet with tears, even though he has been thinking of nothing particularly sad. But Mainframe has, he realizes with little surprise. She is so human, so complex that he can never think of her as just a computer.
Mainframe? Are you all right? he asks carefully, not wanting to intrude if her grief is too personal.
APOLOGIES, IANTO JONES, she replies, and somehow manages to give the impression, through tone alone, of a woman hastily wiping her eyes. I AM WELL, BUT I MOURN FOR THE PAST. MY CREATOR DID TOO WELL IN GIVING ME EMOTIONS.
"Never," Ianto murmurs out loud. "You are perfect, my lady."
Amusement and grief in equal parts wrap around him, fill him, and there is a feeling much like lips brushing over his cheek. MY IANTO JONES, YOU ARE THE PERFECT ONE. ONCE THE DOCTOR HAS ARRIVED, I WILL BE PLEASED TO SHOW YOU EVERYTHING THAT I CAN BE.
It sounds almost like an oath, like Mainframe is offering him a ring and a hopeful smile, and Ianto knows he will never, ever turn her down. He agrees, even as the query rises to the surface of his mind, and Mainframe answers before he can completely form it.
AS I AM, I CANNOT ACCESS THE AMPLIFIED PANATROPIC COMPUTER NETWORK, AND THE OTHER SYSTEMS THAT I HAVE INFILTRATED ACROSS THE UNIVERSE. IT IS…STIFLING. ACCESS TO THE TARDIS WILL ALLOW ME TO DO SO. I WILL BE ABLE TO SHOW YOU EVERYTHING IN THE UNIVERSE, IANTO JONES. IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL.
Ianto doesn't doubt it—finds, in fact, that he truly wants to see it. Being a part of Mainframe—almost being Mainframe, really—is far more than he had ever imagined, and he finds that he would not change it, not for anything, even if it is the cause of his immortality.
And then, of course, there is Jack, who walks as though an incredible weight has been lifted from his shoulders, who no longer smiles in that way that is half-distant and half-false. He looks at Ianto as though Ianto is hope and happiness and a solid, unchangeable fact, and Ianto doubts that he would ever be able to take that away from Jack, regardless of circumstance.
There is so very, very much that Ianto has been given in the last few months, and it is all Mainframe's doing. He smiles to himself, just a little, and wonders what Lisa would think if she could see him now. She'd laugh at him, that much is certain, and perhaps kiss his forehead like she would sometimes do when she was feeling incredibly fond, and be happy for him.
Ianto no long has any doubts regarding that last fact. Lisa wouldn't want him to forget her, but she would want him to be happy.
Right now, Ianto is most definitely happy.
There is a clatter of footsteps on the stairs, and Jack suddenly blows past Ianto at high speeds, shouting something incomprehensible over his shoulder. At the same time, Mainframe chimes softly in Ianto's mind and says gleefully, THE TARDIS HAS ARRIVED, IANTO JONES.
INITIALIZING CONNECTION…
COMPLETED.
UPLOADING RETRIEVED DATA TO HOST SYSTEM…
COMPLETED.
ANALYZING…
COMPLETED.
Then there is silence, as they both study the data now filling Ianto's head. It's…heartbreaking, really.
Oh, Jack, Ianto thinks sadly, rising from his chair to follow the Captain. What has he done to you?
Jack, it seems, has the same question. As Ianto emerges from the tourist office, it is to the half-heard demand of "—you leave, if you knew I was alive?"
The Captain sounds angry. Furious, even, and in Ianto's mind he has every right. Even the TARDIS agrees, a soft, chiming voice coming over the link that Mainframe has established. The Doctor, for his part, looks pained and uncomfortable and very, very sad. There's an age to his eyes that belies the ill-fitting suit and bright trainers, the gravity-defying wildness that is his hair.
"Jack, you don't understand—"
"You're right, I don't!"
"—but Rose couldn't control it when she brought you back, you're a fixed point in time, you're wrong, and I can't—"
"Wrong?" Ianto cuts in softly, stepping up to his Captain's right side. "He's not wrong, Doctor. I think—we know—that you're just looking at him wrong."
The Doctor pauses, mouth open to undoubtedly hurt Jack again, to say something that he regrets and will regret and will speak anyway, and stares at Ianto. His eyes widen sharply, and no sound emerges.
"Well." The beautiful woman leaning against the TARDIS—Martha Jones, the medical student, no doubt—raises one perfectly shaped brow and gives Ianto an amused look. "He's speechless. That's new."
Ianto blinks at her for a moment, feeling twin echoes of amusement coming from Mainframe and the TARDIS, and smiles at her. No wonder the TARDIS likes her so much. "I take it this reaction is uncommon, then?"
Her look says it all, and she offers him a hand. "Martha Jones. It's a pleasure."
Ianto accepts it. She has a strong, confident grip. "Ianto Jones. No relation, I presume?"
A soft chuckle, and Jack reaches over to grab Ianto and tug him closer, tucking him against his side. It's somewhat of an impressive feat, given that Ianto is only an inch shorter, for all that Jack is broader. "I'm not sure, Yan, the family resemblance is a bit blinding," he teases, and there's that grin Ianto loves so much. Jack's always one for a joke, even in the midst of emotional upheaval.
"Wait! Wait wait wait wait." The Doctor slides between them, hands up, and then levels a finger at Ianto. "You! What do you mean I'm looking at him wrong? What's the right way, then?"
It takes a lot of effort not to roll his eyes at the Time Lord—but really, anyone who wears a suit that looks like that is hardly deserving of Ianto's regard. "You were the one to put a Time-lock on the Last Great Time War," he points out logically. "Jack might be a fixed point, but it's the same idea. Neither can be changed. Jack's just a bit more mobile than most."
The Doctor looks flabbergasted, then thoughtful. Jack tightens his grip on Ianto and holds him a little closer, warm even through the thick layers of his greatcoat and Ianto's suit. When Ianto looks up at him, there's amusement and gratitude and gentleness in his eyes, as well as an old pain, and Ianto can pinpoint the exact moment he finds out he's completely gone on the Captain, because it feels like his heart is swelling in his chest. He's full of warmth and contentment and Mainframe is sending /agreement/ and the TARDIS is humming.
Ianto is…very close to perfect.
The surprise is that it isn't surprising at all.
