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songspinnerTitle: Of her Wings
Rating: PG
Charaacters: Jack/Ianto, Martha
Spoilers: "Lost Souls" (radio), Doctor Who Season 3
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood belong to the BBC.
Summary: On the plane back from Switzerland, Ianto and Gwen sleep and Jack and Martha can't, at least not yet. Written for Day 21 of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
redismycolour .
***
Listen. The minstrels sing,
In the departed villages. The nightingale,
Dust in the buried wood, flies on the grains of her wings
And spells on the winds of the dead his winter's tale.
Excerpt from "A Winter's Tale".
by Dylan Thomas
***
Jack's mind was still on alert mode, even once they were on the plane. He hadn't slept that day, not even when they stayed overnight in the hotel rooms Martha had demanded that UNIT arrange. The humming of the airplane's engines was calming, but the Captain hated flying when he was the pilot, and a small part of his mind was wishing he was at the controls. Gwen slept, curled up on the seat, Ianto was asleep on Jack's shoulder, but Martha...
"I can hear you thinking from here..." Jack called out softly, trying not wake his teammates or startle the friend he'd been observing.
Startling anyway, Martha uncoiled from her seat with reflexes that seemed to be hypersensitive still. "Sorry." She spoke dryly, one weary eyebrow up. "I'm not sure if it's possible to think quietly."
"Nah. Don't apologize." He shifted a bit, easing Ianto down onto his lap so that he could turn and face her. "I'm glad", he added, "that your friend Julia, is going to be okay. Are you all right?"
She managed a tired smile. "I hadn't expected all this...well, this, when I called you. And I'm glad Ianto and Gwen are all right." The smile widened as Jack's hand stroked over the younger man's shoulder and pulled a blanket up a bit higher.
"So am I, nightingale."
Her head cocked to one side and she regarded him curiously. "Jack?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Why do you call me that?"
"Nightingale?"
"You've done that since after we first...since we traveled together with the Doctor."
"End of the world survivor's club."
"Yeah. Figured it had something to do with...I was just wondering."
Jack leaned back against the cushioned airplane seat with a sigh and shook his head. "I guess it's two things. You're a healer, first of all."
"Oh don't tell me you met Florence Nightingale, then?"
He laughed quietly at her exasperated expression. "Well I did, actually, and she had that same intensity that you did. And no, we did not have any sort of relationship other than brief acquaintances, so don't even think of asking."
"Oh, poor Jack. Turned you down?" Martha snickered.
"Didn't even try asking, actually. She was sort of focused." Jack let his memory wander back for just a moment. "Beautiful, though, in that focus. Sort of like some other people I know, you included." He soothed Ianto as the younger man murmured something in his sleep and fell quiet again at his touch.
"And the other reason?"
Jack looked across the cabin at her. "Nightingales have this beautiful voice, and I remember reading this story once about one. Her song saved an emperor and an empire...a huge and glorious voice for a tiny bird. She saved his life and then she told him the truth for the rest of that life."
Her huge eyes, liquid with sudden and unshed tears, met his gaze. "Jack..."
"You sang the truth to the world, Martha, and I wish everyone could know. I told the others some things about that year, when I got back to Cardiff. Ianto knows some of your part in it"
"Ah." She said in a roughened voice. "That explains why he was so formal when we first met. Like I was a UNIT general or something."
Jack chuckled affectionately. "Always protocol with this one. He's so much better at it than I am."
Curling up again against her own cushions, his friend tucked a hand under her chin, dark eyes still tracking him. "Jack, will you sing something for me? I remember your voice from back then. When it was all over, you sang me to sleep once, on the Tardis when we were all still healing."
So for a little while, Jack's own voice soared as the plane flew, a lullaby for his nightingale until she slept.
Rating: PG
Charaacters: Jack/Ianto, Martha
Spoilers: "Lost Souls" (radio), Doctor Who Season 3
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood belong to the BBC.
Summary: On the plane back from Switzerland, Ianto and Gwen sleep and Jack and Martha can't, at least not yet. Written for Day 21 of
redismycolour .***
Listen. The minstrels sing,
In the departed villages. The nightingale,
Dust in the buried wood, flies on the grains of her wings
And spells on the winds of the dead his winter's tale.
Excerpt from "A Winter's Tale".
by Dylan Thomas
***
Jack's mind was still on alert mode, even once they were on the plane. He hadn't slept that day, not even when they stayed overnight in the hotel rooms Martha had demanded that UNIT arrange. The humming of the airplane's engines was calming, but the Captain hated flying when he was the pilot, and a small part of his mind was wishing he was at the controls. Gwen slept, curled up on the seat, Ianto was asleep on Jack's shoulder, but Martha...
"I can hear you thinking from here..." Jack called out softly, trying not wake his teammates or startle the friend he'd been observing.
Startling anyway, Martha uncoiled from her seat with reflexes that seemed to be hypersensitive still. "Sorry." She spoke dryly, one weary eyebrow up. "I'm not sure if it's possible to think quietly."
"Nah. Don't apologize." He shifted a bit, easing Ianto down onto his lap so that he could turn and face her. "I'm glad", he added, "that your friend Julia, is going to be okay. Are you all right?"
She managed a tired smile. "I hadn't expected all this...well, this, when I called you. And I'm glad Ianto and Gwen are all right." The smile widened as Jack's hand stroked over the younger man's shoulder and pulled a blanket up a bit higher.
"So am I, nightingale."
Her head cocked to one side and she regarded him curiously. "Jack?"
"Hmmmm?"
"Why do you call me that?"
"Nightingale?"
"You've done that since after we first...since we traveled together with the Doctor."
"End of the world survivor's club."
"Yeah. Figured it had something to do with...I was just wondering."
Jack leaned back against the cushioned airplane seat with a sigh and shook his head. "I guess it's two things. You're a healer, first of all."
"Oh don't tell me you met Florence Nightingale, then?"
He laughed quietly at her exasperated expression. "Well I did, actually, and she had that same intensity that you did. And no, we did not have any sort of relationship other than brief acquaintances, so don't even think of asking."
"Oh, poor Jack. Turned you down?" Martha snickered.
"Didn't even try asking, actually. She was sort of focused." Jack let his memory wander back for just a moment. "Beautiful, though, in that focus. Sort of like some other people I know, you included." He soothed Ianto as the younger man murmured something in his sleep and fell quiet again at his touch.
"And the other reason?"
Jack looked across the cabin at her. "Nightingales have this beautiful voice, and I remember reading this story once about one. Her song saved an emperor and an empire...a huge and glorious voice for a tiny bird. She saved his life and then she told him the truth for the rest of that life."
Her huge eyes, liquid with sudden and unshed tears, met his gaze. "Jack..."
"You sang the truth to the world, Martha, and I wish everyone could know. I told the others some things about that year, when I got back to Cardiff. Ianto knows some of your part in it"
"Ah." She said in a roughened voice. "That explains why he was so formal when we first met. Like I was a UNIT general or something."
Jack chuckled affectionately. "Always protocol with this one. He's so much better at it than I am."
Curling up again against her own cushions, his friend tucked a hand under her chin, dark eyes still tracking him. "Jack, will you sing something for me? I remember your voice from back then. When it was all over, you sang me to sleep once, on the Tardis when we were all still healing."
So for a little while, Jack's own voice soared as the plane flew, a lullaby for his nightingale until she slept.
