The Forms of Things Unknown/Torchwood Fanfic: Vortices

[saki101]

Yesterday there was discussion here of favourite DMC roles and Tone Hobart was mentioned as well as a possible Dr Who/The Forms of Things Unknown cross-over and then glennagirl posted another beautiful photo of DMC here resulting in the following slash ficlet of a PG-13ish nature.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters or their universes and no money is being made!

(Also posted on mfu_yumdaily.)



Excerpt:

Tone’s foot was in the air, his weight moving his body towards the centre of the time-tilter, his device that had failed. No, the time-tilter worked; I failed. Failed to perfect it in time, failed to understand the complexities of the situation, of the woman’s guilt, of my own intent. Time to capitulate, to undo…




Vortices


Tone’s foot was in the air, his weight moving his body towards the centre of the time-tilter, his device that had failed. No, the time-tilter worked; I failed. Failed to perfect it in time, failed to understand the complexities of the situation, of the woman’s guilt, of my own intent. Time to capitulate, to undo…

“Don’t!”

It was a command. Despair cringed away from it. Tone thought to obey, but his foot was already descending.

The arm around his waist was strong. Tone wasn’t moving forward any more, wasn’t moving and yet there was a sense of vertigo. Not in him, but around him somehow, waiting to be felt. Different from when he used the time-tilter before. Maybe it’s been damaged. Another failure. Tone closed his eyes, words coming of their own accord. "As when with the daring, last look of despairing, fix’d on futurity…" The arm was strong. Tone felt it holding him despite the whirlwinds around him. Temporal whirlwinds. He knew that’s what they were. The machine’s off kilter, out of tilt. My time-tilter’s out of tilt. An odd smile curved his lips. There was humour in it after all. The muscles of the forearm pressed against Tone’s stomach, strong fingers spread over his lower back, grasping, holding him firmly. Against the whirlwinds, against…a chest. Tone could feel the breath rhythmically swelling the chest against his back, the fingers gripping him tightly against the pull of the vortices.

I would have obeyed, he apologised to the possessor of the arm, the hand. But my foot was in the air. It was… “Too late,” Tone whispered.

“Not a concept I believe in,” a voice by his ear replied. There was a hint of humour in the voice, as if it didn’t take things too seriously.

“Perhaps I take things too seriously,“ Tone murmured. The arm tightened around his waist, pulling him closer against the broad chest. Your arm is serious, Tone thought and let his muscles relax. His body slumped forward. Another arm clamped across his shoulders, bringing his head back. His temple brushed against a jaw.

“The tilter’s malfunctioning. Why didn’t it malfunction and let me stay dead the first time?” Tone lamented into the whirlpools tugging at him.

“I asked myself the same question long ago. There was a good reason for me. There is a good reason for you.“ The voice was definite, not offering an opinion. Tone found himself believing it. “I…” The voice paused.

Interest flickered through Tone’s mind. He lifted his head away from the supportive shoulder, turned towards the voice and opened his eyes. “You…?” Tone asked. The whirlwinds were abating. A grey, diffuse light revealed the profile of a large, handsome face.

“I’ve…” There was another pause, not from uncertainty, but for careful selection of the next words. “Commandeered your journey. Your destination was wrong,” the voice concluded.

“So where am I going now?” Tone asked, finding he had an inclination to continue travelling.

The head turned and Tone looked into an almost grim pair of eyes. “With me,” the voice stated.

Tone considered the words and the look. He raised his hand, let it move along the arm still securely wound about his waist. The tightness around the eyes regarding Tone lessened as Tone’s fingertips glided back to the wrist and crept under the sleeve, coming to rest on the vein pulsing there. “Yes,” Tone affirmed, enunciating the word slowly, watching the eyes of the man with the strong arm around his waist, feeling the vein beneath his fingertips thump more slowly.

The winds were swirling away, ruffling their hair as they departed. The colourless light was growing stronger. Tone glanced away from the face, saw grey mountains rising in the pale distance. They seemed insignificant. Tone looked back to the man whose eyes had not shifted from his face. There was significance.

“Jack,” the man said. Tone nodded slightly as though he had known all along. He tilted his chin upwards and Jack leaned forward to seal the agreement.


*******



(Quote: The Bridge of Sighs by Thomas Hood)

*******

The continuation may be found here.

Comments

Connections

[eilidhsd.livejournal.com]

Very late to the party, but obviously the story is much better when the readers know the background; and now I know Tone you make it so easy to picture his slight vulnerable figure being caught and held by Jack; and I know about the time-tilting circles.
The whole episode is just beautiful. Ready to die, as we leave him in the filmed part, and then swept off in the strong arms of Captain Jack. YEP.

But the Thomas Hood lines got me too; I know them of old and, curiously, we were talking the other night about the audiobooks, and I mentioned Three Men in a Boat. It is generally hilarious; but, as they make their way up the river, they find the floating body of a woman who has killed herself, a fallen woman shut out in her shame by her family and friends, and who has taken that final step. It is a very moving passage and David reads it in a way that gives me goosebumps. Boat was published in 1889, and the scene reflects the Hood poem, which Jerome K Jerome must have known.

Re: Connections

[saki101.livejournal.com]

It was a pleasure to find your comments this morning, especially such detailed ones. I know you were hoping the story would be done before you embarked on it, and I appreciate that you've started it even when it isn't. I've joined picowrimo (http://picowrimo.livejournal.com) for July to try to finish up one of my older WIPs and I think once I've done that, I will return to Vortices. I miss working on it.

I couldn't bear the ending of The Forms of Things Unknown. Tone's intentions were so good, but they didn't suit the sisters' circumstances. It was such an unfortunate final straw.

If I cross a river at night, I often think of the Hood poem, the beautiful descriptions and the injustice of the situation. It has stuck with me tenaciously all these years. I shall have to listen to Three Men in a Boat. I enjoy hearing DMC's voice even more in the audiobooks than in MFU because of the wider emotional range the books, especially the older ones, provide (and there's more of his voice, of course) and it's always satisfying to find echoes of other influences in an author's writing.

Thank you again for your thoughtful comments and your patience.

Re: Connections

[eilidhsd.livejournal.com]

No, thank you for posting the story. I was going to wait until it was finished, but the temptation was just too strong last night. I read the first three parts then forced myself to stop, and tonight I'll allow me another episode. Serials are good because they play on in your head until the next episode. And it is so good.

It is not just your writing - your ideas are stunning. The idea of the time camera capturing the moment literally is wonderful.

I've a few of the audiobooks where he does different voices, and I'm not so fond of them. But what stops me in my tracks is when he swears! In Maiden's Grave and Stalin he uses the F-word and it shocked me!!! He is just someone I have never heard swearing in all these years. And in London Fields some of the dialogue is very sexual. I'm OK with that one, but I dropped one book which had a traditional sexual scene in it.

Re: Connections

[saki101.livejournal.com]

I hope the story sustains your interest. I like the idea of serials, too. As you say, you can consider possibilities while waiting for the next installment which makes it a more interactive experience. When I began posting Without a Word, I had already finished the story although I hadn't finished editing it. Some of the other series just grew out of a small first section which seemed complete, but had the potential to be continued. Then it's unknown how far the story will progress or how much development the original idea can support.

I think I may have clapped my hands when the idea of Tone having a time camera came to me. The genesis of the idea is in a song, Who Will Buy?, from the musical Oliver which I have always liked. Oliver asks "who will buy this wonderful morning and put it in a box for me?" When I first heard the song as a child the idea struck me as something people have always wanted to be able to do. With paintings and photos and videos, we try to capture beautiful moments but Time keeps slipping away from our grasp nonetheless. Since Tone was tinkering with Time anyway, it seemed he was a person who could have finally invented the time camera.

I listened to London Fields after utopiantrunks had and wanted to discuss it. I hadn't read anything by the author and it required a lot of discussion to come to terms with the action of the story and what the author had done to bring the reader into the narrator's mind. I think there was swearing in that one, too. It's hard to recall considering all the other shocking things taking place.

I think what I've found most cringeworthy was the poor writing in one or two of the audiobooks I've listened to. It seems a pity for DMC's talent to have been wasted giving voice to such mediocre sentences. I think sex scenes highlight substandard writing more vividly than other plot developments do. Although I often find that it is the attitude of the writer or his/her characters towards the sex in the scene which is more distasteful than a clumsily constructed scene.