?

Log in

No account? Create an account
Myfanwy 2

November 2017

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
12131415161718
19202122232425
2627282930  

Tags

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Myfanwy 2

A Mother's Duty - Chapter Fifteen

A Mother's Duty - Chapter Fifteen
Author: Milady Dragon
Series: Dragon-Verse
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s): JackHarkness/Ianto Jones, Anwyn Harkness-Jones/Gwaine, Phil Coulson/Clint Barton, Arthur/Merlin (Mentioned)
Warnings: Angst, Mental Health Issues, Reincarnation
Spoilers:  Mostly for S2, E12 and E13 of Torchwood
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, I would have treated it better.
Author's Note: This is the second story in the "Samara Wells Trilogy".  It deals with some issues that might be distressing to some, especially mental health issues concerning Jack's brother, Gray.  I'm not a trained therapist, so anything in here that might not work in the real world...well, it's all on me.

Summary:  Samara Wells got one of her sons back.  It's time to try and get the other back as well. 



 

1 September 5115 (Earth Standard Date)

Gliese 581g (Hubworld)

 

The house seemed far too quiet with Lisa gone back to Ddraig Llyn.

Phillip had parted company with her and Clint at the transmat station, heading back to the Tower and to his duties as Director.  Clint had been happy to escort Samara back to their home, however he’d stopped off at a small sandwich shop on the way to pick up lunch for them.  There were so many different places to eat around the Tower, and Clint explained that the restaurants usually did a booming business with the Torchwood employees, who hailed from so many different worlds that there were businesses that catered to a lot of them. 

“Honestly,” Clint said as they walked toward the brownstone where he and Phillip lived, “are you alright?”

Samara sighed.  “Honestly?  I don’t know, Clint.  It’s been so hard, knowing there really isn’t anything that can be done for Gray…if there isn’t a breakthrough, I don’t know what to do.  Would it be best to put him back into cryo-freeze?  Or should we transfer him to somewhere he won’t be able to hurt anyone if he does get out of custody?”

She’d been giving it a great deal of thought, and there really wasn’t an easy solution.  Perhaps there would be another chance in the future?  The best analysts in the Twelve Galaxies had come in to weigh in on Gray’s ability to come back to sanity…or at least as close to sanity as could be done with the current procedures, and the reports all stated that they weren’t really getting anywhere with him. 

“Gran,” he said, as they approached the front stoop, “there are times when there just isn’t anything you can do.”

Clint let them into the house with his palm print and password, ushering her inside and into the lounge as she mulled over what he’d said.  It was true…she really couldn’t do anything.  Maybe it would be best if she left it in Phillip’s hands, in his position as Director of the Torchwood Institute, under which Gray was technically in custody. 

A really large part of her wanted to do just that.  To let someone else take care of things, so she wouldn’t have to worry about consequences or guilt or her utter failure as a mother.  But the thing was, she wasn’t a trained professional.  She was only a woman with a son who’d been destroyed mentally by events beyond anyone’s control, and Gray was blaming the only person he believed had the actual control…when Jack hadn’t.  If anyone had, it would have been Franklin, but even her dead husband hadn’t been behind the actual attack that had set the terrible events into motion in the first place.  Gray should be blaming the raiders, and not his older brother, for what had been done to him. 

But Gray wasn’t rational. And, chances were, he never would be again.

Samara knew she would never get over this.  The happiness she’d felt over Lisa’s healing couldn’t touch the pain she felt over Gray. 

“You’re not blaming yourself, are you?” Clint asked shrewdly, sitting beside her.

“No,” she admitted.  “I should have known I wouldn’t be able to really help him get better.”   Samara patted him on the hand.  “And don’t worry…I don’t blame Phillip either for his faith in my motherly abilities.”

Clint snorted.  “No, I think Phillip’s blaming himself enough already.  He’d been so sure you could bring Uncle Gray back from the brink…but I don’t think anyone really knew how far gone he was, despite Dad and Tad’s stories and the actual files on the case.”  One side of his mouth quirked upward in a sweet smile.  “But then, Phillip’s a lot more optimistic than even he likes to admit.  He puts out this image of a competent, driven, and in many ways cynical man in control, but I think we all know he’s really not all that.”

“Well,” Samara said, “he certainly is driven.”  She’d seen first-hand his dedication to his position as Torchwood’s Director.

“And competent,” Clint added, sighing dreamily.  “He’s always been that.”

She elbowed him playfully.  “I don’t really want to know about your kinks, Clint Jones!”

Her grandson laughed.  “And here I thought you were an open-minded individual!”

Laughing along with him, Samara felt her mood lighten just a little.  “Your parents raised you right, you know.”

Clint nodded.  “They did.  But I think I was also lucky in that I pretty easily was able to reconcile the memories of my former life with this one.  I don’t know if Lisa’s going to have such a smooth time of it.  Her life as Morgana was just too fraught with evil deeds, more than mine ever was.  Plus, I knew I was waiting for Phillip to match his experiences up with mine.  Lisa doesn’t have anyone to wait for.  I’m hoping I’ll be able to help her to get through the rough patches.”

“I’m sure you will be,” she said confidently.  “And, you won’t be alone in that.”

He blushed faintly at her praise of him. “I just wish there’s a way I can help you, Gran.”

“You are, Clint,” she said.  “It might not seem like it, but you really are.”  It was true.  Just having him there, trying to take on the weight of her issues, was enough. 

He didn’t look as if he believed her, though. 

Before Samara could come up with anything else to say, Clint was off the sofa and heading toward the kitchen.  “I’m famished,” he said over his shoulder.  “Let’s eat those sandwiches we picked up.”

Samara leaned back into the sofa, and agreed.


 




Comments