Title: Send A Message
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 3
Prompt: 31, Messenger
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own Ianto Jones or the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

***

The Doctor frowned, looking down at the small pad of paper in his hand. He hadn't expected this, hadn't expected anyone to contact him during his time on Earth with Ianto.

After all, they'd just come back from going out into the galaxy. Nothing unexpected had happened; for once, he'd managed to keep himself out of trouble, and he'd actually enjoyed showing Ianto some of the places that he knew so well and didn't go to often.

They'd been to the past and the future, and they'd been gone for what felt like quite a while. But of course, given his ability to manipulate time, he'd brought them back only a few days after their departure -- in Earth time. To others, they'd hardly been gone at all.

He didn't want Ianto to think that his forays into time and space were always like that, though. His young lover had already experienced something of what could happen when he walked into situations that weren't easy to deal with -- and he didn't want to put Ianto through that again.

So he'd hoped that they would have some quiet time here, alone with each other, before he began to feel restless again. But it looked as though that wouldn't be the case.

The Doctor didn't even know who had contacted him -- all he had was a scrawl on the psychic paper, a few words telling him that help was needed. But what kind of help? And who was calling him? It was all highly suspicious.

So suspicious, in fact, that he hesitated to go. He wasn't one to run off at the drop of a hat, and especially not when he knew that he'd be taking Ianto with him. He wasn't going to just disappear, or go off alone into a situation that he didn't fully understand.

It was hard for him to resign himself to taking his lover along with him, but he'd promised Ianto that he wouldn't constantly be left behind. And even though this might throw Ianto into danger, it was just as dangerous for him to go out with the Torchwood team at times.

The Time Lord sighed, running a hand through his already disordered hair. All right, he would definitely take Ianto with him. But what were they headed for? And how could he explain to Ianto just why they needed to go?

Ianto was the sort of person who didn't just run into something blindly, and in the Doctor's opinion, that was a good thing. But he could also prevaricate too much, when action was needed. He would expect an explanation of why they needed to leave.

And knowing Ianto, he wouldn't be satisfied with the Doctor simply saying that he'd been called on and he was needed. It would have to be more thorough than that.

He sighed, feeling frustrated and not knowing how to make that feeling go away or to deal with it. He didn't have an explanation to give Ianto. Only that when someone called him via the psychic paper, he felt that it was his duty to try and help them in any way that he could.

A thought occurred to him, one that made him pause in his thinking and frown even more deeply than he already was. Suppose this wasn't a call for help at all? Suppose this was just a messenger sending him some sort of notice, and he would find out what the real trouble was when he arrived at the place he'd been asked to go?

That had happened before, more often than he wanted to admit. Several times in the course of his long life, he'd been sent a message, a plea for help relayed to him by a messenger who had sent him into something that he hadn't expected to encounter.

If that was the case, he definitely shoudn't have Ianto with him. Under no circumstances would be put his love in the middle of something with that sort of potential for danger.

He sighed, resting his chin on his hands, looking down at the paper laying on the kitchen counter in front of him. How was it that a short message on a small piece of paper could cause him such a great deal of unrest? It didn't seem fair.

But then, life wasn't always fair, was it? Everyone had to deal with things they'd rather not have in their lives, and he was certainly no exception. Only the things that he usually found himself having to cope with were vastly different from human problems.

Sighing again, the Doctor inwardly resigned himself to the fact that Ianto would be with him when he left. He might not know what he was going into, but whatever it was, it would be far safer for him to face it with a companion by his side.

Of course, Ianto was no mere companion -- he was the love of the Doctor's life, the person he most wanted to keep safe and protected. Though he had to admit, he was slowly but surely getting accustomed to the knowledge that he couldn't always protect the young man.

The Time Lord's lips twisted in a wry smile as he thought of some of the situations he and Ianto had been placed in since their meeting. Quite a lot of the time, it seemed as thought Ianto was the one who protected him, rather than vice versa.

Hopefully, this would prove to be something that could be easily dealt with. And if not -- then the two of them would be together, side by side, watching each others' backs. A team. A duo.

He was so lost in his thoughts, he didn't realize that Ianto had come into the room until he felt a pair of strong arms slide around his waist and pull him backwards. With a surprised gasp, he looked over his shoulder to see Ianto smiling at him.

"I hope I didn't interrupt some vastly important thoughts, love," the young Welshman teased, nuzzling his cheek against the Time Lord's hair. "You looked as though you were sorting through something serious in your mind. Care to tell me what it was?"

The Doctor almost didn't want to say anything to Ianto, not just yet; but he had no choice in the matter. The message sounded as though he needed to be there soon, and he didn't want to leave Ianto behind. Not this time.

"I've gotten a message, Ianto." He lifted the psychic paper, letting Ianto see what was written on it. "I know that I don't use it often -- but when I'm contacted in this way, I don't have any choice but to answer the call. We have to leave. Tonight."

Ianto read the words written there, a slight frown on his face. After what seemed like a long while, but was in reality only a few short moments, he nodded. "There shouldn't be a problem with leaving. After all, you can bring us back to exactly the same time, right?"

It was the Doctor's turn to nod, though he couldn't help smiling as he did so. "I'm good, Ianto, but not that good. Still, I can try to get us back here at nearly the same time we left. Though I might be off by a few minutes. Or .... hours."

The young man flashed a smile, then was back to his habitual seriousness. "All right. I'm not going to ask any questions. This is your territory -- I'll follow where you lead."

The Doctor couldn't help looking surprised at those words. It wasn't what he'd expected his lover to say, but he wasn't going to argue. Still, he couldn't help wondering what made Ianto so amenable to whatever might be waiting for them, whatever plans he might have.

"I expected you to at least ask me who sent the message," he remarked as Ianto stepped back, releasing him. He turned to face the younger man, raising one eyebrow in question. "Don't you want to know? I would, if I was in your place."

Ianto shook his head, his blue-grey gaze meeting the Doctor's dark one. "No, I don't. I trust you, Doctor. I trust you with my life. I don't have to know everything -- all I have to know is that this is something you need to do, and that you need me with you."

The Doctor felt an unexpected tightening in his throat. This much trust, placed at his feet. He hoped that he wouldn't do anything to betray that trust. He'd try his best not to. No, he wouldn't just try. He'd never betray Ianto's trust. Never.

He held out a hand to Ianto, smiling when the other man took it, twining their fingers together. They would face whatever the future, and this particular part of it held, together. Come what may, they'd be with each other.

As he led the way towards the front room of the flat, the Doctor found himself hoping fervently that this message wasn't going to lead the two of them into some kind of trouble -- and that the messenger who'd sent it was benign and wished them no harm.

***