A Mother's Duty - Chapter Seven

Author: Milady Dragon

Author's Note: How about another two chapters today?

16 August 5115 (Earth Standard Date)

Gliese 581g (Hubworld)

It wasn't until they were making their way into Phillip and Clint's home that Samara finally realised that it had been Ianto who had practically carried her out of Gray's room.

When she did, she mentally cursed herself; it had to have been Ianto, with his higher body temperature, because if it had been Phillip the grasp would have been cooler. However, she'd been so caught up in her own thoughts that perhaps she could have been excused for not paying all that much attention.

She'd known, going in, that it could go very, very badly. That Gray could have been damaged, or not all there. But that raving thing that had to have been sedated had been a shock to her. Her words had been what had triggered Gray into his meltdown, and she hadn't seen it coming at all.

She'd heard the story, but she'd believed that Gray could be reasoned with where his brother was concerned. That she would be able to talk him around to forgiving Jack for something that hadn't really been his fault at all, and therefore reunite her family once more.

But that wasn't what had happened.

She was bundled onto the sofa, and someone pressed a warm mug in her hand. The scent of the sweetened tea wafted up to her, and robotically Samara took a sip. It was almost too sweet, but it settled her nerves and she was able to look up into the tri-coloured eyes of her grandson, Clint, as they gazed at her worriedly from where he was sitting on the coffee table across from her, watching her intently. Ianto stood just behind him, his arms crossed and a fierce expression, as if he wanted to anything he could to stop her from hurting, and she loved him for it.

But there really wasn't a thing he could do to help.

"Phillip's gone to check on Nicole and Lisa," Clint said softly. "Drink your tea and relax." He glanced over his shoulder at his father. "He looked furious. I thought he was going to go all Rite of Vengeance on someone."

"Too late," the dragon answered dryly, "I did that centuries ago."

Clint rolled his eyes, and Samara couldn't help the giggle that escaped. It would have been fine if it hadn't sounded just the bad side of hysterical, and honestly she didn't have a single thing to laugh about. The comment wasn't really all that funny, considering that Samara knew exactly what Ianto was talking about.

The sound of that single, strangled laugh must have alarmed both her son-by-mating and her grandson, because suddenly they were both on the sofa, one on each side of her, enveloping her in dragon warmth as they tucked in beside her. Clint gently removed the now-shaking mug from her hand and set it down on the coffee table, and Samara let herself collapse against both of them, accepting the comfort they were giving.

Her laughter turned into sobs very quickly.

Samara hadn't wanted to lose control, but the agony she was feeling crashed into her like a storm front, and she curled up against the two members of her family and let everything out. She sobbed her heart out in the cocoon of Ianto and Clint's arms, letting them hold her as she railed against the Universe for what it had done to her beautiful baby boy. Gray was wrecked, and he would never be the bright child who'd played in the surf off the Boeshane Peninsula, who'd run with his brother as they'd chased the colourful flutterflies that had made their home in the ocean rushes that had lined the shore, or built sandcastles on the dunes above the water line. The child who would have been happy to spend hours simply listening to his father read to him from the stories that had come from Franklin's homeworld; while Jamys read to himself from the tales that had come from Samara's own family.

Those moments of peace were gone forever. They would never return.

At least, not while brother blamed brother for what had been a horrific turn of fate.

Samara lost track of time as she cried out her pain and fear into the arms of her close family. Eventually, though, the sob diminished, and she was able to pull back just enough to signal to them that she was alright.

By that time, however, the three of them had gained three more. Phillip, Nicole, and Lisa had joined them; Phillip taking Clint's former place on the coffee table, with Lisa leaning against him and Nicole over his right shoulder. The moment Ianto and Clint had made room, Lisa was in Samara's lap, the teenaged dragon a bit too heavy but Samara didn't mind at all. She put her own arm about Lisa, tucking the dragon against her, careful of the wings that lay flat against Lisa's back.

"I'm alright," she assured her great-granddaughter. Well, it was really aimed at all of them, but judging from the looks she was receiving it wasn't working.

"You don't have to go back there," Phillip said softly. His ice-blue eyes were kind, and understanding. "I can take over Gray's rehabilitation…"

No one said it, but Samara could hear the silent, If it could be done.

"Let him," Clint urged. "Gran, this is hurting you…"

She couldn't, though, as tempting as it was. Samara didn't want to see Gray like that, screaming and tearing at his restraints, sounding as if his very soul was being torn from him.

"I'm his mother," she whispered, her throat sore from her own distress. "I have to do this."

"Then I'm going to be with you," Clint swore. "I'm going to be in that room with you – "

"Clint, no…" She couldn't let him. He didn't know Gray; didn't know his own uncle the way that Samara did.

Her eyes met Ianto's, and in that gaze she realised that he knew her Gray better than Samara did.

Gray had changed beyond Samara's recognition. The tortures he'd been put through had damaged him, perhaps beyond saving.

But Samara Wells had already once given up on one son; she would be damned if she was going to do it to another.

"You're not going to talk me out of it," Clint replied. "You're going to need someone close, closer than Phillip's security post. And I'm not afraid to do what will need to be done if things get out of control." His eyes spoke of his determination to protect her at all costs. "You're my grandmother, and I've actually never had one before so please excuse me for wanting to take care of the one I do have."

Samara didn't know a lot about Clint's previous life, but just that little speech told her things she wasn't certain she wanted to know. She pulled one arm away from Lisa and curled it around his shoulders, pulling him close once more. "I love you," she whispered into his hair, pitifully grateful that she truly wasn't facing this alone.

Clint put his own arms back around her, including Lisa in their three-person cuddle pile. "Yeah, well," he huffed, "I'm just really a loveable sort of guy."

Samara laughed at that, a little piece of her grief finally breaking away and floating off. Yes, there was a lot still there, but it would get better; she knew it. Especially when she had her family with her.

She sighed. "I don't know about anyone else, but I'm suddenly famished."

And that seemed to break the ice…well, not literally, as Phillip had his magic firmly under control.

Clint pulled away, and there was a large smile on his face. "I think we can do something about that."

"Clint's right," Phillip chuckled, standing. "And then I hate to say, but I'm going to need to get back to work. Bratsk is probably wondering if I'm avoiding the paperwork on purpose."

One of Clint's eyebrows went up. "And you aren't?"

It was Ianto's turn to laugh. "As much paperwork as I ever did for Torchwood, I never enjoyed it as much as Jack claimed I did. I just knew I was the only one who would do it properly."

Phillip didn't say anything, but his expression spoke volumes.

Before he could move away, Samara reached out and grasped his hand. His cool fingers wrapped around hers, and he smiled down at her. "You don't have to say anything," he murmured. "We'll do some more tests tonight while Gray is sedated, and we'll time it so he comes out from under in the morning."

"Thank you," Samara said, her voice warm with the sincerity she was feeling.

"There are no thanks needed," he answered, just as warmly. "If it was either Nathan or Nicole in that room, I'd be there every day."

Nicole gave her adopted father a very fond look, hugging him from behind. "Nathan and I feel the same way, Dad," she told him.

His free hand landed on Nicole's arms around his waist. He didn't say anything; but then, he really didn't need to. It was writ large all over his face, how much her words meant to Phillip.

"Enough mush," Clint proclaimed, standing up. "Gran is hungry, and I can hear Tad's stomach growling all the way over here."

"That is a scurrilous lie," Ianto answered primly. He also stood. "And forgive me, but I'm not going to eat here. Jack's waiting back at home, and he'll want to know what happened." He smiled sadly at Samara. "We'll all get through this, Mam," he told her. "You're not alone."

Samara noticed that her legs were falling asleep, so she released Phillip's hand and then gently shifted Lisa so that the child was sitting beside her. "I know," she answered.

It felt amazing, not being along anymore. For so long, she'd existed by herself on Maker's World, afraid to leave the place where her memories were: both good and bad. She'd been the last of their family, until Ianto and Anwyn had come for her. Now she was surrounded by people who loved her, and she would never go back to the loneliness that had consumed her before.

Ianto leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, almost like a benediction. "I'll be back in the morning," he promised. "I'm going to be in the security centre with Phillip the entire time."

Samara nodded in agreement. The dragon returned the nod, and then kissed Lisa as well. The young dragon had a wistful expression in her eyes as Ianto left, and Samara wanted nothing more than to be able to talk to her without an audience. Something was going on with her, and she wanted to help her just as much as she wanted to help Gray.

"Gran," Lisa said, "is Uncle Gray really that sick?"

Jack, Ianto, and Samara had explained as much as they could to all the younger children last night, but after her breakdown Samara should have known she'd have to go into more detail with her. "He is," she answered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Clint, Phillip, and Nicole all leaving the room, and she was so tempted to call them all cowards, leaving her alone with Lisa. Still, she was hungry, and the sooner there was something to eat the sooner she could get out of what was going to be a very uncomfortable conversation.

"Your uncle was just a child when he was taken away," she went on. "He was younger than you, in fact."

"And he was hurt really badly?"

Sometimes Samara wondered how Lisa had come up with her particular turns of phrase; she sounded so much older than she really was. "Yes, sweetheart…he was."

"It's made him angry."

She looked at her granddaughter thoughtfully. That realisation showed that the young dragon was much cleverer than anyone was giving her credit for. "That's right. And he blames your Dad for what happened to him, even though it wasn't Jack's fault."

Lisa nodded solemnly. "Sometimes it's easier to blame someone you love for something terrible than it is to blame who's really responsible."

Samara was stunned by that, coming from a teenaged dragon who sounded as if she had personal experience in just that sort of thing. She caught movement just behind Lisa; eyes flicking upward, she caught sight of Phillip as he stood in the door to the kitchen, watching their interaction intently. He had to have heard what Lisa had concluded, and the surprise of it was evident in the scrutiny he was giving the black dragon.

"Lisa," he said softly, as if he really didn't want to break the mood, "go and wash up for lunch."

The black dragon turned to look at him, and then smiled, showing needle-like teeth. "Alright, Phillip," she agreed. She climbed down off the sofa and headed toward the bathroom.

Samara stood up, feeling a little stiff at having sat for so long. "Answer me this," she murmured, not wanting Lisa to overhear, "how does a fourteen-year-old dragon know about that sort of thing?"

"I have no idea, Samara," he sighed. "I want to think it has something to do with her life before her parents hid her away, but surely a child that young wouldn't remember that sort of thing?"

She had to agree with him on that. From what she'd heard from Jack and Ianto, the only ones of their foundlings who could even vaguely recall their previous lives were William and maybe James. Lisa had simply been too young to remember anything about it.

No, they were overlooking something. Samara just didn't know what it was.