The Ties That Bind (1/34 + epilogue)

[madbottoms]

Title: The Ties That Bind

Author: madbottoms

Beta: Blackcat1000

Artist: miss_bekahrose who is mucho awesome!

 Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Donna, John Hart, Owen and James Harper, Mickey/Martha, Toshiko/Tommy, Claudia, Phillip, Saxon, Rhiannon, OCs

Type of immortal!Ianto: magic!Ianto

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 75K+

Warnings/Contains: Explicit sex (does that need a warning?), witchcraft, horror, supernatural themes, character death.

Summary: Ianto is a powerful magical warrior, one which Jack Harkness has never been able to resist. Once enemies, then almost lovers, he broke his heart. Years later, Jack must return to his hometown and seek help before it is too late. Jack and Ianto must now put aside their past and work together to defeat an evil threatening to overwhelm and take control of Jack because of his unique bloodline. Secrets and foretold prophecies will plague them and in this paranormal battle, they will need more than magic to survive. 

 
 

A/N: Written for the Long Live Ianto Big Bang Challenge. I am going to post a few chapters a week for those who like to read it on LJ/DW but there is a PDF available here The Ties That Bind. This is of course, purely fiction as we all know and as I am not a native of Wales or in fact the UK, my knowledge is extremely lean at best, so please forgive any irregularities in locations or distances as the story unfolds. Many thanks to Martina and Paula for their assistance.

 

Disclaimer and further notes: Not mine, just playing around. That said, this is not entirely of my own creation but it has evolved as an adaptation from a recent piece of fiction I read, just like we do with Reel Torchwood, and the previous supernatural one I did. And just like that one, I have added some other stuff to suit the boys in an AU situation with lots of shameless, cracky/smarmy (choose your synonym) and over the top cliché moments—and there are many. So, if this is not your thing, don’t read it, and if you do, grin and bear the crack and smarm because I know you all secretly love it anyway. I do like to hear your thoughts but please be constructive if you have anything negative to say about it and I will appreciate it as much as your kind words. This one has more violence and explicit sexual situations—although I’m sure that won’t bother any of you. J

 

 
Much love to miss_bekahrose for her amazingly awesome work. And so much praise after putting up with my nitpicking and producing artwork that compliments this story so very well. Mwah!

 

 

Chapter One 

 

The end of the world was a strange motivator, providing the kind of action that could make a man do things he’d sworn he would never be caught doing. Like going back to places he’d sworn he’d never return to… Or seeking out people and memories he knew were best left to the past. The problem, of course, was that the past had ways of catching up.

 

In cases like this, it could even make you feel as if you were making the biggest mistake of your life.

 

And as Jack Harkness walked inside the Noble House, owned by the Noble-Jones’, the bar where he’d worked in a lifetime ago—that’s exactly how he felt. Like a man walking the plank, heading toward disaster. And in Jack’s case, that fate came in the form of a man. A man who just so happened to be from one of the craziest families the Brecons had ever known, and who, incidentally, also happened to be distantly related somehow to the Sidhe, distinct beings, quite separate from the human race, yet having had much contact with mortals over the centuries. And this man was a too-powerful, too-stubborn, pain-in-the-ass magical warrior.

 

Jack’s best chance of surviving this visit in one piece was to get the information he needed, and then get the hell out again before that particular person ever set eyes on him. The faster, the better. If he was lucky, he’d never even know he’d been there.

 

Despite that encouraging thought, a nervous feeling crept over him as he made his way into the dim interior of the bar, the door sliding shut behind him. A bead of sweat snaked slowly down his spine while chills spread over his arms. At one o’clock in the afternoon, the business was deserted but for the two beer drinkers playing pool near the back wall and the towering brute lurking behind the till, polishing shot glasses that looked comical in his huge paw-like hands. The bartender eyed him with a look of bored indifference, until he caught sight of his pale blue eyes. Jack took a quick sniff, his heightened sense of smell alerting him to the fact that the guy was no more ‘normal’ than he was. A grizzly-shifter, if he was reading the scent right.

 

Jack might have been more or less human, but that ‘less’ part of the equation was becoming more evident with each day that went by. With every passing hour, his senses were becoming sharper, allowing him to interpret the world around him in a way that was more monster than man. His human self, it seemed, had become another casualty of the war that he and his friends were currently waging against an ancient evil named the Pharis. Fortunately, Jack and his buddies, a group of shape-shifters and vampires called the Guardians, had finally managed to defeat the majority of the monsters nearly two months ago back in May. But the Pharis’ leader, the Master, had suddenly disappeared at the height of the battle, before Jack could kill him. They didn’t know where the Master was, but Jack had a good idea of who he was with. He also knew the bastard wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted, and Jack was willing to die to keep him from getting it.

 

But that was going to be a battle for another day. For the moment, he was after the solution to a different problem. One that was less personal, but no less important. And one he knew he could help with, if he managed to stay a step ahead of the Master.

 

As if aggravated by the thought of that particular Pharis, his arm ached with a renewed wave of pain, the wound left from the Master’s bite throbbing with a dull pulse. Though the injuries he’d sustained on the day the Master had been snatched from his grasp were nearly healed, Jack still didn’t feel…right. Too many changes were taking place inside him, his system in a constant state of change that often left him restless and on edge. Or maybe that was just his current bitter outlook on life. But whatever it was, he no longer even tried to hide the raw, constant burn of worry weighing heavily in his gut.

 

Heading toward the bar, Jack kept his gaze locked on the giant behind the till. The guy set down another shot glass, slapped the dish towel over his shoulder, then braced his beefy hands against the scarred but gleaming wooden counter. Thick, greying brows drew together in a deep scowl over his suspicious gaze. “You thirsty, Pharis? We don’t welcome your kind here, but you can take something to go.”

 

“I’m not a Pharis.” Jack fought to keep his tone easy, knowing it wasn’t going to do him any good if he started shit with the shape-shifter. “And I don’t want any trouble. I just need some information.”

 

“Not a Pharis?” The guy snorted. “You look at your eyes in a mirror lately, son?”

 

Jack ignored the question. Thanks to his maternal bloodline, he had the same ice-blue eyes as the Pharis, but he wasn’t one of them. Not yet, at any rate. “I’m looking for Donna Noble,” he said, making an effort to sound patient. “Do you know where I can find her?”

 

The scowl deepened. “What’s ya business with Donna?”

 

“I need her help.”

 

“S’that right?” the guy drawled.

 

“I’m willing to pay for the information.” He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a bundle of folded notes and slapped them on the counter. The scent of the money filled the air, sharp in his nose, but the shifter didn’t so much as blink.

 

Leaning closer, the guy eyed Jack with a dark, steady stare. “Do I look like the sort to be bribed?”

 

“You don’t want the money, fine.” His voice was tight, cool. “But I’m not leaving until I’ve spoken with Donna. It’s a matter of life and death.”

 

“For who? You?”

 

Jack clenched his jaw as he pocketed the money. “Let’s just say that I’m here on behalf of The Guardians.”

 

A gritty laugh rumbled from the giant’s chest. “Those crazy-arse shifters? Hell, what makes ya think I care what they’re up to?”

 

“Because a helluva lot of people are going to die if you don’t.”

 

The seconds stretched out, marked only by the whirring of the ceiling fan and the distant sounds of the pool game, while he stared the older man down. Finally, the shifter muttered, “You can find her out back. Last cottage on the left.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Hell, don’t thank me yet.” Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of the bartender’s eyes as he smiled. “Knowing Donna, she’s liable to shoot ya before you get ya first word out.”

 

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he grated under his breath, turning and heading for the door. It was common knowledge that the Harkness’ and the Noble-Jones’ had never gotten along. The human residents in Brecon believed the decades-old disagreement had been spawned by a particular piece of land that bordered both their properties. But those locals who were a part of the ancient clans—nonhuman races who lived hidden among the humans—knew the truth. That being that the Nobel-Jones’ and their magical kin generally disliked any species that fed on blood, such as the vampires. And the only species they hated more were the ones known as the Pharis.

 

The Noble-Jones’ didn’t care that Jack’s family was human. Nor did they care that the only reason the Harkness’ had Pharis blood running through their veins was because one of his ancestors had been unfortunate enough to be raped by one of the monsters a millennia ago. They distrusted the Harkness’ ice-blue eyes, and they feared the day when the Pharis would escape the Veil and return to this world, using families like Jack’s as their human hosts. It was unfair and narrow-minded, but it was something that had been bred into Donna’s grandparents, her parents and into Donna herself.

 

About the time that Jack turned sixteen, the local sheriff had had enough of their constant bickering and proclaimed it was time the two families learned to get along. Donna was ordered to give Jack a part-time job at the bar, which she’d inherited from her father, and her nephew Brandon had been ordered to help out at Jack’s grandfather’s garage on the weekends. Though it took a few months, and a couple of brawls, he and Brandon had surprised everyone by breaking the legacy of distrust and becoming friends. The
hostilities between the families had cooled for a time—but Donna had still scared the crap out of him.

 

Heading around the side of the building, toward the cottages that had been built in the woods behind the bar more than a hundred years ago, Jack figured the once ramshackle cottages must have been renovated before Donna moved into one of them. The lady might have been one egg short of a dozen, even for a witch, but he remembered Donna as a feisty redheaded woman who enjoyed things exceptionally organised.

 

Wondering just how loudly she was going to screech when she set eyes on him today, Jack set off down the winding path that wove through the lush woods. He told himself he wasn’t afraid of Donna, but an uneasy feeling still burned in his gut like bad whiskey. His instincts urged him to turn and get the hell out of there, but he couldn’t do it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and he’d already wasted too much damn time as it was. He’d known for months now that this visit was inevitable, and yet, he’d put it off. Dragged his feet like an old woman. Yeah, he’d sent letters, but he hadn’t really expected Donna to respond to them. And he’d known that trying to email or call would be pointless. The Noble-Jones’ had always mistrusted modern technology. Twelve years might have passed since he was last in Brecon, but there were some things that just never changed.

 

So, he’d known this visit was unavoidable. But he’d stalled, because he hadn’t wanted to spend what might be his last days scraping off emotional sores that had never quite managed to heal. Shit like that sucked. Left you raw. Aching. Bleeding. And he already had enough problems to deal with.

 

Following the path further into the woods, Jack lifted his face as a cool breeze blew its way through the trees and he pulled in a deep breath that had him instantly jerking to attention.

 

There was something there. Something rich and sweet beneath the fertile scents of the forest. Something primal that called to those increasingly intuitive parts of him. But despite the instinctive hardening of his body and the almost primitive urge to hunt and take, he knew he had to maintain control. Damn it, he knew that scent. Knew precisely who owned it.

 

Ianto.

 

With his heartbeat pounding in his ears and a low curse on his lips, Jack scanned his surroundings, knowing beyond a doubt that Ianto Jones was there in the forest with him. That mouth-watering scent was his first clue. The second was a strong hand suddenly whipping around his shoulder, pressing a sharp blade against his throat.

 

With his other hand fisting the collar of Jack’s T-shirt, wrenching him back, Ianto spoke quietly in his ear, “What the hell are you doing here, Harkness?”

 

 

 

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