Title: Race Against Time
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Ianto Jones/Tenth Doctor
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Rating: R
Table: 5
Prompt: 8, Carriage
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.

***

And to think that the nineteenth century had seemed like such a good idea when the Doctor had suggested it.

Of course, that was before they had landed in the midst of a smuggling ring -- a group of people who hadn't appreciated two stangers stumbling into their highly illegal plans.

Ianto struggled to sit up, something that was hard to do when his hands were bound behind his back and his ankles were tied together. He'd scream for help if he could, but the gag forced into his mouth rendered any sound impossible. And there was no one around to help, anyway.

Where was the Doctor? Where had they taken him? Ianto's last sight of his lover had been only a few moments before, when the bound and gagged Time Lord had been forcibly tossed over someone's shoulder like a sack of potatoes and there had been some words about "disposing of him" and coming back for Ianto. He had to find out where his love was being taken.

Ianto managed to struggle to his knees, slowly making his way across the floor to the window. It was, mercifully, low to the floor, so he could peer over the sill, wincing as the hard wooden floor seemed to dig into his knees as he raised himself up, eyes frantically searching the courtyard.

There they were. Two men were lifting the Doctor into a carriage, the Time Lord kicking and struggling against them, writhing in his captors' grip, his head turning from side to side as though he was trying to loosen his gag enough to scream. Ianto's heart jerked in his chest, anger rising in him at the sight of his love being so manhandled.

The men literally threw the Doctor into the carriage, climbing in and slamming the door. Another man made his way to the seat at the front of the conveyance, settling himself and flicking the reins over the horses' backs. With a rumbling of wheels, the carriage started to move down the long gravel drive.

Ianto's heart leaped into his throat. He had to find a way to free himself and go after them. The Doctor was tied up and helpless against those men -- and there was no telling what they were planning to do to him. Even now, they could be making plans to kill him and dispose of his body.

He looked frantically around the small room he'd been imprisoned in, searching for something that he might be able to use to cut through the ropes around his wrists. His eyes lighted on the fireplace, zeroing in on the poker at one side.

Ianto launched himself across the floor, realizing in a few seconds that he wasn't going to make much progress on his knees. Lowering himself to his side, he rolled over, using his bound legs to propel himself closer to the fireplace until he could sit up and press his back against the stand that held the poker.

The young man pushed against the stand with his shoulder until it tipped over, the poker spilling out of it, sharp edges gleaming in the light of the late-afternoon sun coming through the windows. Now, if only he could figure out a way to maneuver it between his bound wrists and rub the ropes against it until they gave way ....

Ianto made a muffled, frustrated sound against his gag, hating the time that it was taking to do this. Even now, those men could be stopping by a river, tossing the bound and helpless Doctor into the water, the Time Lord drowning in a place where Ianto would never find him ....

No. He wasn't going to think like that. He'd find his love, he'd somehow manage to rescue the Doctor from his captors and they would make it back to the Tardis and out of this time. The closest Ianto wanted to get to it again was by watching a movie from the safety of his living room couch.

He'd managed to work the poker between his wrists, moving his bound hands gingerly down the sharpness of the edge. He thought he could feel some of the strands of rope snapping, but it was slow going. Still, he couldn't move any more quickly than he was -- not unless he wanted to risk cutting off one of his fingers, or slicing through a vein and bleeding to death on the floor.

Ianto moved his hands more frantically down the poker, feeling more of the rope fray and loosen around his wrists. It was taking too long, dammit. If he couldn't get himself free quickly, he'd never be able to find where they'd taken the Doctor. Even now his love's life might be in danger, more so than he knew.

Damn the frothy billowing sleeves on his shirt, Ianto thought, squeezing his eyes shut and swallowing hard. Why in the hell had he let the Doctor talk him into dressing authentically for this time period? It was hard to tell if he had the sharp edge of the poker anywhere near a major artery -- and if he sliced through one, then this was over before it had started.

With a slight snapping sound, the last of the rope broke and fell away from Ianto's wrists. He reached to pull the gag from his mouth with one hand, his other hand moving to his ankles to claw at the ropes binding his ankles. They came free after a few moments of struggling with the knots, and Ianto got to his feet, the handkerchief gag still loose around his neck.

He stumbled across the room to the door, catching himself on the door frame. Shaking his head to clear it, he tried to get his bearings, realizing that he'd been more affected by that blow to the back of the head than he'd thought he was. He'd been taken by surprise, hit from behind and then trussed up like a Christmas turkey before he'd been able to defend himself.

Making his way to the front door, he swung it open, blinking in the bright sunlight. There had to be some quick way he could catch up to the Doctor and his captors. He definitely couldn't do it on foot; that would take days, and by then it would be far too late to save the Doctor from whatever was planned for him.

Ianto looked around in rising panic, not seeing any way out of his situation. He had no idea where the Doctor was being taken, or what was going to be done to him. It was fairly obvious what direction the carriage had gone in; the wheels had left deep ruts in the road, and he was certain he could follow them. He just had to find a quick way to do so.

His attention was caught by a sudden noise, his heart thudding against his ribs when he realized what had caused it. A horse, tethered to a hitching post by the side of the porch. Saddled and ready, as if it was some kind of gift from whatever deity Ianto chose to thank for it.

Good job I learned how to ride, he thought, pulling the reins over the horse's neck and swinging himself up into the saddle. He turned the animal's head toward the graveled drive, leaning low over its neck and pressing his heels into its sides. The horse whirled and took off at a gallop down the driveway, Ianto barely having to guide it along.

His heart was galloping almost as fast as the horse's churning hooves were beating along the road, he thought, realizing that the animal was somehow instinctively following in the direction that the carriage had gone. Ianto sent up another silent prayer, his eyes scanning the horizon, searching for a telltale cloud of dust that the carriage would no doubt be raising.

There it was. The four black horses pulling it wouldn't be easy to stop, but he somehow had to find a way. By the rate that the conveyance was moving at, he could only assume that the smugglers still had the Doctor inside; they more than likely wouldn't be moving so quickly if they didn't have a captive to dispose of.

The horse carrying Ianto overtook the carraige easily, as though his hooves were winged. The young Welshman glanced anxiously towards the closed door of the coach; he was positive the Doctor was still held prisoner, and he didn't want to do anything that could put the Time Lord at risk.

The door of the carriage flew open, swinging wide on its hinges, and Ianto was confronted with the twisted, snarling features of one of the Doctor's abductors. The man held the Doctor's limp body in his arms, the Time Lord's head lolling forward as though he was barely conscious. Ianto's eyes widened in alarm as what they planned to do hit him with a jolt.

They were going to throw the Doctor out of the coach, to let his body be run over and mangled by the wheels. And more than likely, they'd come back for a second pass to make sure that he was dead.

"No!" Ianto screamed, throwing his weight to the right, sending his horse careening into the carriage at full speed.

He could feel the sickening crunch as his leg was pressed between the coach and his horse's side, feel the pain spreading through his body in a wave that threatened to drown him in blackness.

The impact threw the carriage off-balance, the men inside screaming as it tipped to the side, then turned over in the road. The horses reared as the traces were pulled tight, one of the animals falling over and thrashing on the ground.

Ianto managed to turn his horse and get it to the side of the coach, using his good leg to push himself off the animal's back. Another wave of blackness swept over him as he fell to the side of the coach, landing on his hands and knees, jolting the leg that he was sure was broken. He managed to wrench the door back, peering into the darkness of the interior.

Apparently, when the carriage had overturned, the chaos had given the three men inside with the Doctor a good knock on their heads; they were all out cold. Unfortunately, so was the Time Lord, a thin trickle of blood streaming down the side of his face.

"Oh god," Ianto whispered, his voice trembling, his body suddenly feeling weakened and sick. No. The Doctor couldn't be dead. Not after all this, not after the effort Ianto had made to rescue him. He couldn't see well enough to see if the Time Lord's thin chest was rising and falling, couldn't tell if his love was still with him.

Just as the dreaded thought crossed his mind, the Doctor stirred, moaning behind his gag, his eyelids fluttering open and focusing on Ianto. The young man reached a hand down, feeling stupid when it hit him that the Doctor's hands were bound behind his back; it wasn't as though he could grasp Ianto's hand and get himself out of the coach.

"I can't," Ianto whispered in answer to the unspoken question in the Time Lord's eyes. "I think my leg is broken."

The Doctor's eyes closed, another soft moan leaving his throat. He slowly curled up into a ball on the side of the coach, squirming until he could get his long legs through the circle of his bound arms, wincing as he did so. It couldn't be easy, Ianto thought, not as long as his legs were. But he somehow managed it.

The Time Lord raised his bound hands towards Ianto, indicating that the young man should grasp his hands. Ianto did so, bracing his good leg against the step just below the door of the carriage. He gritted his teeth as pain shot through his mangled leg; he was probably doing a lot more damage to it by attempting this, but he had no choice in the matter.

Ianto pulled with all his strength, the blackness threatening to swamp him again. But it didn't; he rolled over onto his back, releasing the Doctor's hands as the Time Lord managed to grasp the edge of the door and pull himself out of the dim interior of the coach to sit beside him.

He couldn't help smiling; for some reason, the Doctor hadn't taken the gag out of his mouth when he'd managed to move his hands from their uncomfortable position behind his back. Ianto reached up with both hands to loosen the knot at the back of the Doctor's head, pulling the cloth away from his love's slightly swollen mouth and touching his fingers to those soft lips.

"Did they hurt you, love?" he whispered, sitting up next to the Doctor and starting to work at the knots that held the Time Lord's wrists together. It only took a moment to free the Doctor's hands; Ianto placed a gentle kiss on the inside of each reddened, chafed wrist, cursing the men who'd done this.

The Doctor shook his head, still looking dazed and disoriented. "No, I'm all right .... just .... drugged. I don't know what it was. I feel .... as though I could take a header onto the ground at any moment."

He was saying something else, but Ianto's attention was drawn by another cloud of dust -- moving towards them at what appeared to be a rather rapid rate. He turned his eyes back to the Doctor in time to focus on the Time Lord's words through the increasing fog in his brain and the almost unbearable pain in his leg.

".... Four more of them, to my understanding. Probably looking for us, now that they've found out you aren't where they expected you to be." The Time Lord's voice was weak, his words slowing and slurring. "Ianto, I'm going to pass out. Get me on that horse, and I'll try to get you safely to the Tardis and away from here."

"Not without you." Ianto tried to make his voice sound stronger than he felt. "We're getting out of here together. I won't leave you behind, not in this condition. And not knowing what those men would do to you if they caught you again."

The Doctor nodded, sitting up and reaching for Ianto. His grasp was weak; Ianto realized that the Gallifreyan was perilously close to falling into unconsciousness from whatever drug it was that he'd been given. He had to get them both back on the horse, and get to the Tardis as quickly as possible.

As if the animal sensed the urgency of their situation, it sidled up to the side of the carriage, standing stock-still as Ianto dragged himself slowly and painfully to the edge of the overturned conveyance, managing to get the Doctor settled on the horse's back. It was good thing the Time Lord was so thin; with any luck, they'd both fit into the saddle.

He didn't know quite how he did it, but he managed to get his good leg over the saddle, using a death grip on the horse's mane to hoist himself onto the animal's back. He wanted to scream when he settled into the saddle behind the Doctor, his right leg dangling uselessly against the horse's side. One arm slipped around the Doctor's waist, holding the Time Lord upright.

Ianto took a deep breath, digging his heels into the horse's sides again and uttering a few words under his breath. "Get us back to the Tardis safely, please. If you were sent to help us, then please, please, get us there."

The horse seemed to hear him, leaping forward at a full gallop. Ianto clutched the now-unconscious Time Lord against him, fighting to stay in the saddle, leaning over the horse's neck and pressing his face into the Doctor's hair. He had to trust that the animal could somehow find its way to where they'd left the Tardis, that it had indeed been sent to help them.

He didn't know how long the ride was; it was jumbled in his mind, as though he'd been slipping in and out of consciousness on the way there. Ianto only knew that the Tardis had never been such a welcome sight as it was when the horse skidded to a stop in front of it, and he could balance the Doctor's unconscious form on the horse's back and slide down to land on his good leg.

It almost gave way under him when his foot touched the ground with a jolt; but he clamped his lips shut on the pain, determined not to cry out. He had no idea how far those men were from them -- he could hear hoofbeats, the snuffling of winded horses. They were close, too close for comfort. He had to get the Doctor inside and get them out of there, quickly.

The Time Lord nearly fell into his arms, and Ianto began to shuffle towards the door of the Tardis, nearly screaming as each step sent pain jolting up his injured leg. Before he made it to the door, he turned around, the Doctor's body limp in his arms, and raised a hand in the horse's direction.

"Thank you," he said softly, his eyes meeting those dark, equine ones. Was it his imagination, or did the animal nod in acknowledgement of his words? There was an intelligence in those eyes, and he could have sworn that there was the brush of a mind against his own, for a split second of time, a gentle touch that was gone in a heartbeat.

Ianto could barely see anything in the dusk around them, but he was positive that the animal's eyes held his own, reaching into his mind and knowing who he was, why he was there. Knowing that it had achieved what it had set out to do, and sending them on their way.

The horse tossed its head, then turned and disappeared into the night, its dark coat blending into the undergrowth within moments. Ianto's head jerked in the opposite direction as he heard the hoofbeats getting louder; he had to get inside and get them out of here, now.

He jerked the door open, barely managing to get himself and the Doctor inside and lock the door behind them before he heard the hoofbeats draw up outside, dragging himself across the floor to the controls. The Doctor had set them, and he pressed his hand against the button that he knew would send them back to wherever the Time Lord had intended for them to go.

Ianto hadn't released his grip on the Doctor, though he'd wanted to drop to the floor from the second the door had closed behind them. He managed to drag them both to the couch that rested against the wall, collapsing onto it with the Doctor's inert body in his arms.

From now on, he thought before darkness pulled him under, he'd settle for reading about different time periods, rather than going there himself. It sure as hell was a lot safer.

***