Title: Big Decision
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1, 50scenes
Prompt: 21, Psychotic
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.

***

Ianto paced the length of the living room and back again, reading and re-reading the piece of paper in his hands. He was surprised that the Master had bothered to send him a note; judging from what he knew of that monster, it would have been much more his style to merely kidnap the Doctor and not tell anyone what had happened to the Time Lord.

But no, he'd sent Ianto a note -- a rather short note, but one that sounded quite cheerful and friendly. Well, as friendly as someone who'd kidnapped your lover and was threatening him with death could sound.

He read the note for what seemed like the thousandth time, the words dancing in front of his eyes until they didn't make sense any more. The black lines slashed across the white paper didn't form words; to him, they were only marks, not forming any kind of coherent thought. He couldn't think straight, couldn't make his brain stop whirling.

The Master wouldn't kill the Doctor. He couldn't. They were the last two Time Lords, the last of their kind anywhere in the universe. He wasn't going to detroy the only other person alive who remembered the world they'd come from, who understood what he was. He couldn't be that cold, that cruel, that mindless.

Could he? Ianto wasn't as sure of that as he'd like to be.

He had no idea where the Doctor was. The Master had made sure to tell him that the Time Lord was suffering -- but he hadn't given Ianto any idea of how to find him and stop whatever was happening to him. He had no clue where to start looking.

Ianto wanted to bury his face in his hands and sob out his fear and uncertainty, but that wasn't going to do the Doctor any good. Wherever the Time Lord was, he was counting on Ianto to find him and bring him home safely. There had to be some way of locating and rescuing him, some way of thwarting whatever the Master had planned.

It wouldn't be easy, but he'd manage to do it. He hadn't found the Doctor so recently only to lose him to some psychotic monster from his past. He squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath and pushing away his fears and doubts into the back of his mind. He was going to do this. He had to. He had no choice.

And this time, he wasn't going to ask Jack or Torchwood for help. It could be dangerous, after all. If the Master saw the lot of them coming, he might panic and put the Doctor's life at risk. Ianto wasn't going to take the chance of that happening.

He crumpled the note in his hand, not wanting to read it again. Besides, he had every word of it by heart, he was sure. As many times as he'd read it, those words were burned into his consciousness -- especially the ones telling him that the Doctor was in pain. Those words had seared into his soul, reducing him to a sobbing, trembling wreck.

Would it be best for him to go after the Master himself? Or should he ask Jack for his help? Ianto didn't want to have to place himself in debt to Jack; even though the Torchwood leader wouldn't ask him for anything of a personal nature in return, he still didn't want to admit that he might not be able to do this alone.

Sighing, he turned towards the coffee table where his cell phone lay. He couldn't do this alone. He might not be able to get all of Torchwood to help him without placing the Doctor at risk, but he wasn't stupid enough to think that this was something he could just walk into by himself. Jack would know what to do.

His hand trembled as he picked up the phone; he was still hesitant, still unsure that he was doing the right thing. The Master had told him not to involve anyone else, but that would pit him against that maniac one-one-one -- a confrontation that Ianto was sure he couldn't win.

Was he putting the Doctor's life more at risk by facing this alone, or by calling Jack and telling him that he needed help? The Master knew Jack; if he knew that the immortal was a part of this, he could very well kill the Doctor in a fit of anger. Ianto couldn't let that happen. He couldn't take that chance.

Slowly, he put down the phone, his hands shaking more than ever. He had to stop this, get hold of himself. He couldn't let his fear get to him; that would only place the Doctor even more at risk. No, he had to have a cool, calm head, and go about this with some sort of plan. He had to use his best judgement, and not let his emotions get in the way.

The problem was, he had no idea of how to even go about formulating a plan. And there was no way that he could keep his emotions out of this. The Master had made sure of that. He had to know how Ianto felt about the Doctor -- they hadn't hidden their feelings for each other, after all. He had them both neatly trapped, without nowhere to turn for help.

Ianto had no idea what the Master's intentions were -- but at least he was fairly sure that the other Time Lord wouldn't kill the Doctor. He wished that he could be positive of that, but with the Master, there was no telling what could be going through that devious, twisted mind. And he wouldn't know until he confronted that monster face-to-face.

What if there was some small clue in the note, something that would tell him what the Master's intentions were? But there was nothing. He'd read it so many times that he could quote it verbatim, and there was nothing that revealed that maniac's inner thoughts.

He picked up the note again, smoothing it out and reading the address written at the bottom through twice. He knew where it was -- a place in the warehouse district, in the middle of a group of abandoned buildings. A perfect place to keep someone against their will, far from any chance of being seen or heard.

Ianto glanced at his cell phone again, then towards the door. The Master had told him not to bring a cell phone, not to contact anyone else, and above all, to come to that address alone. He was aware that he could be walking into a trap, and that his actions could result in the Doctor's death, as well as his own.

But he was gambling on the Master not being able to kill the Doctor, and on his own ability to somehow rescue the Time Lord. At the moment, he had no idea how he would do that, but he had to try. And he had to try to accomplish it on his own.

He had no plan, no idea what he was going to do once he found the Doctor. But that didn't seem to matter; the only thought in his mind now was finding his lover, making sure that he was all right. The Master might be a dangerous psychotic, but Ianto was sure that he wouldn't damage the Doctor past a certain point; no, he would wait until Ianto was there and could witness it.

There was no way he could deal with that, he told himself, cringing inwardly. Seeing the Doctor in pain was one thing .... but knowing that he couldn't do anything to help his love, or worse, that the Doctor's relationship with him was the cause of that pain -- that would rip him to shreds inside, and the Master knew it.

He knew how he would react to actually seeing the Doctor tortured -- he could beg the Master to stop, to take him instead. And that would more than likely destroy the Doctor. There was no way to win this, he thought, his heart seeming to sink down into his shoes. Either way, the two of them would be irrevocably damaged, emotionally as well as physically.

Ianto sighed, squeezing his eyes closed for a few moments and fighting back tears. He couldn't just stand here in indecision, doing nothing, when he knew that the Doctor might at this very moment be fighting for his life. He had to find his lover, do what he could to get him out of whatever situation the Master had forced him into.

It didn't matter that he was more scared than he'd ever been in his life. Everything that he'd dealt with in Torchwood seemed like child's play compared to this. There had never been so much at stake before. He had to make a decision, take a stand.

There was no choice, not really. Taking another deep breath, Ianto shoved the paper into the pocket of his jacket, heading for the front door. He had a gun, and his wits about him. That would have to be enough. There was nothing else he could rely on; those two small things would have to get the both of them through this.

And if they weren't enough, well then, they'd have to face the consequences.

***