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Myfanwy 2

November 2017

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Myfanwy 2

A Mother's Love - Chapter One

A Mother's Love - Chapter One
Author: Milady Dragon
Series: Dragon-Verse
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): JackHarkness/Ianto Jones, Rowena Harkness-Jones/Henry Morgan, Phil Coulson/Clint Barton, Arthur/Merlin
Warnings: A little angst, a lot of fluff
Spoilers:  Mostly for S2, E12 and E13 of Torchwood
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, I would have treated it better. Neither do I own Merlin, or anything here except for the concept and the OC's
Author's Note: This is the first story in the "Samara Wells Trilogy", and follows Jack's mother as she discovers a family she didn't even know she had.  This takes place in the Future-Verse, between the stories "Time Trap" and "Lost and Found"

Summary:  Doctor Samara Wells really hadn't been prepared for the two people who dropped into her life, ostensibly to hire her boat out for a trip to the Boeshane reefs...



1 April 5115 (Earth Standard Date)

Chrysalis Bay, Boeshane Peninsula, Planet Maker’s World

                               

“Doctor Wells?”

Doctor Samara Wells looked up at the male voice calling her name from where she was stowing her gear, smiling as the pair came down the pier toward her boat, the Day Dream.  “Yes, that’s me!” she called out, straightening up and watching as they approached. She brushed some of her short brownish-blonde hair out of her face, blown there by the stiffening breeze from the bay; it was going to be a beautiful day for the Peninsula.

They were both young; the man was maybe in his mid-to-late twenties, while the woman was perhaps five standard years younger.  There was something about them that told her they were related in a way…it was in the blue eyes, and the bone structure.  If Samara had to guess she would have said they were brother and sister.

Both were dressed almost like natives, with the general dun-coloured trousers and blouses, goggles slung around their necks in case of wind or rain storm; the man also had a colourful scarf wrapped about his throat, the material in shades of blues and greens.  Their shoes were flat-heeled and sensible.  Thank Goddess for that; the last thing Samara wanted to do was have to drag one of their sorry arses out of the water because they weren’t wearing the proper boating shoes.  The waves could get rough once past the breakwater.

The woman was armed; a blaster was slung low on her right hip in what Samara knew was the “classic” gunfighter’s position.  Her hair was tied back, the braid whipping in the wind sharply.  It was about a shade lighter than the man’s, which was short and slightly curly.  He didn’t appear to be armed, which surprised Samara since the frontier worlds were known to be hazardous to those not prepared for it.  Her own weapon, an ancient plasma rifle that Franklin had brought with him when he’d immigrated from galaxy centre, was resting on its hooks in the boat’s main cabin, and she knew how to use it.

The man easily carried in one hand a large case that looked fairly heavy, and she wondered if he wasn’t from some sort of high-gravity world to be able to carry the weight.  His companion also had a pack, but it didn’t look quite as bulky, and she handed it off to him as they came up to the boat, the two of them balancing easily as they made their way across the magnetic field of the boarding ramp. 

“Thank you for agreeing to take us out to the reefs,” the man said, tossing his and then his possible sister’s packs onto the deck with a great deal of ease, jumping onto the boat in a single, fluid motion.  The woman followed him.  “I’m Ifan Jones,” he introduced himself.  He spoke Standard fluently, but there was an accent to it she couldn’t identify. 

He held out of his hand, and Samara took it, not showing her surprise at his slightly above human normal body temperature.  “Welcome on board,” she greeted him. 

“This is my daughter, Anwyn,” Jones went on, making a gesture at his companion. 

Samara knew she didn’t quite hide her confusion at that announcement.  They looked far too close in age to be father and daughter; however, there were several extremely long-lived races out there.  Jones and his daughter could have been members of any one of them.

“Tad’s a lot older than he looks,” Anwyn joked, also extending her hand.  It was equally warm.  “We get the funny looks more than you know.” Her accent seemed closer to Boeshane, and it surprised Samara somewhat. But the word, ‘tad’, which had to have been some form of ‘father’, was a term that she’d never heard before.  Yes, Samara could admit that she wasn’t as well-travelled as some, but she’d still heard her share of phrases and accents in the time she’d been on Maker’s World…from the scientists who still came out to study the planet, and from the people who’d come out to the frontier to find a new beginning. 

There was a lot of hiding going on out of the fringes, Samara was well aware.  In many ways, she herself was hiding from her own horrible past.

“You didn’t have to add the word ‘lot’ to that sentence, you know,” Jones said good-naturedly.

Anwyn shrugged, looking innocent.  “You and Dad always stressed to me that it was never a good idea to lie.”

“And you choose to listen now.” He chuckled then turned back to Samara.  “Once again, Dr Wells, you have our thanks for doing this.  I know you didn’t have to.”

Samara smiled.  “That’s fine,” she assured him.  She didn’t add that the money they were paying would allow her to sit out the winter in her cosy flat in town and not worry about running out of supplies. “If you’ll stow your things, you can tell me what you’re looking to see and I can get us there.”

“I’ll do that, Tad,” Anwyn volunteered.  “You go and speak to the doctor and let her know what you need.”

“Alright,” Jones answered, giving his daughter a small, sweet smile.

Samara was touched by it, but at the same time was forcibly reminded of her own family, long lost to her.  “Your cabin is down and to the right,” she directed past the sudden lump in her throat.  “It’s going to get cold once we pass the breakwater, so if you have coats you might want to bring them out.”

“Thank you for the concern,” Jones said, “but both Anwyn and I are quite resistant to temperature changes.”

“Be back up in a bit.”  With those parting words, Anwyn was ducking down the steep steps and into the bowels of the Day Dream, taking their bags with her.

“Come on up to the control deck,” Samara invited, waving her hand to the stairs.  Jones nodded and began to climb, Samara right behind him.  She couldn’t help but notice just how well the man wore his trousers…

Down, Samara.  He was committed to someone, if that was what Anwyn had meant by using the word ‘Dad’.  There might have been many different types of commitment in many different societies, and those bonds were sacred and never meddled with unless the committed liked that sort of thing.

There was no way she was going to mess with any sort of bond.  She missed her own too much for that.

She led Jones up to the bridge, where she immediately got started with her checks. “So,” she said, “just what brings you both out to the Peninsula?”  With a flick of her finger, Samara brought up the undersea charts of the area so she could plot her course, glittering blue in the overhead holographic display.

“I’m looking for reef stones,” Jones answered. 

This was another surprise.  Reef stones were extremely rare, and weren’t often mentioned beyond the scientific papers that had been written up on the phenomena.  Samara herself had composed such a monograph; reef stones were fascinating to study, especially by a marine biochemist of her calibre. 

Reef stones were a bit like Earth pearls; they were formed when sand from the Boeshane shoreline was blown out to sea, settling over the reefs that were just off the coast.  The majority of the sand was sucked further out into the ocean, but some few grains remained, and like an oyster forming a pearl the sand would irritate certain reef organisms, forming crystals around the grains which would eventually become reef stones.  The major differences from pearls were that the stones formed outside of the creatures they were irritating, and that they came in a variety of colours depending on the source of the secretions that were crystallising around the irritants.  Some of the even rarer ones were phosphorescent.

“If I might ask,” Samara said, “but how did you hear about the reef stones?  Not many people have beyond the Peninsula.”

Jones smiled.  “My mate is from Boeshane.  He told me about them, and for next anniversary I thought I might bring him something back that would remind him of his home.”

Samara caught the term “mate”, which narrowed down the list of races that Jones and his daughter belonged to.  It would have been simple to input the few clues she’d been given into her portable database, but it wasn’t very polite to go behind a person’s back to snoop about their racial identity. 

However, she was curious – which was a good thing for a scientist to have – and so she asked.

Jones’ smile got bigger.  “I’m certain you’ve heard of the Star Dragons?”

Samara nodded, but she was bit too stunned to speak.  Of course she’d heard of the Star Dragons.  Despite there not being very many of them, they were renowned throughout the Empire as willing to go anywhere and do anything to help out people who needed their expertise.  She’d enjoyed Morgan Jones’ music – and there was another Jones, and she had to guess that she was also a daughter of the man…or dragon…standing in her wheelhouse.  It was also rumoured that magic had been returned to the Universe due to Star Dragon influence.  So many wonderful and amazing things had been attributed to the Star Dragons it was impossible to determine what was true, and what was sheer speculation or fantasy.

Still, Samara knew, deep in her soul, that she was standing next to what could be construed as a legend.

“I and my mate are the Patriarchs of the Star Dragons,” Jones went on.  There was a quiet pride in him that made Samara want to cry. 

She didn’t know what to say, and was saved from making a complete fool of herself by a shout from below.  “Tad!”

He glanced away, calling out, “Yes, Anwyn?”

“Phillip’s on the comms for you.  He says Dad’s getting antsy about you not calling him!”

The being in front of Samara rolled his eyes.  “I’ll be there in a moment.”  He shook his head, smiling fondly.  “I need to take this,” he said apologetically.  “Jack’s probably getting overwhelmed by the hellions.”  He touched her shoulder.  “I trust you know these waters and can get us where we need to go.”

With that, he descended down the stairs toward the lower deck, leaving Samara alone with her thoughts.  When she’d taken on this contract, she’d done a small background check of her new clients, and it hadn’t brought up the fact that either of them were Star Dragons.  It had shown that Ifan Jones was a Professor Emeritus of Medieval Earth History, living on Earth, and that Anwyn Harkness-Jones was Captain-Owner of a private trading vessel, called the Serpent’s Tooth…and shouldn’t that have given her some sort of clue?   It hadn’t pulled up anything about family or race, or how they were related to each other, and now Samara had to wonder if she hadn’t looked for her information in the wrong place.  There hadn’t been much on Jones at all…was it an alias?  She just wasn’t sure.

She should have done a deeper check, to avoid the shock that Samara was currently feeling.

 



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