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Myfanwy 2

February 2018

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Myfanwy 2

A Mother's Duty - Chapter Six

A Mother's Duty - Chapter Six
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.

A/N2:  And here's the second one. 

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



16 August 5115 (Earth Standard Date)

Gliese 851g (Hubworld)

 

The room was plain, and that was being kind.  The only two pieces of furniture in the room was the bed, and a metal chair.  It was windowless, the light coming in from fixtures recessed into the ceiling.  The same off-grey paint that was in the hallway was also on these four walls as well, and it made the place unnecessarily gloomy.  She’d have to mention that to Phillip, but then Samara doubted that the people usually kept in these rooms cared all that much if the paint colour was a bit more cheerful.

The figure on the bed drew her forward like a moth to a flame.

Tears prickled her eyes as she stared down at the motionless body of her younger son.  Gray would have been handsome, taking more after Franklin than he did her, with dark hair that was slightly curled but without the cleft in his chin that Jack had inherited from Samara’s own father.  There was a hideous scar on his neck, moving from behind his right ear and travelling down his neck to disappear under the thin medical gown he’d been dressed in.  He didn’t look at all peaceful, and Samara wanted nothing more than to soothe him, but she didn’t dare…not right now.  Maybe later it would be alright, after Gray was awake and responding to her.

Padded straps were fastened around his wrists and ankles, a matching one encircling his chest as well.  It wasn’t right that he should be confined like that, and it was only the sure and certain knowledge that he’d try to escape that kept her from loosening them.  They looked unnatural on her boy, but they would have to stay for the time being.

Samara was a bit surprised by the old-fashioned restraints.  She knew there had to be a reason for them, and for not using the forcefield projectors that she’d seen in hospitals all over the Empire.  She’d have to ask Phillip about it when she saw him again.

Gray’s head moved slightly, and at that sign of impending consciousness Samara’s heart actually calmed.  This was her son, and she needed to take care of him.  That trumped the adrenaline high that had been previously been sizzling through her like an electric pulse.

Dragging the chair closer to the bed, Samara took a seat and watched as Gray slowly began to awaken. She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but she didn’t know how he would react to that touch.  He’d been hurt so badly, he might decide to take it the wrong way.  Or, he would be so touch-starved it would do more damage than simply waiting beside him.

His eyes fluttered open.  They were muzzy, and he blinked them as he attempted to work out where he was.  When they turned to regard her, Samara bravely met that gaze, unfocussed from long-term cryonic suspension and confusion.

His lips moved, and while the word he spoke was silent Samara was perfectly capable of reading what he’d said.

Mom.

Samara smiled, so glad he was able to recognise her.  She leaned forward, her palm itching to take his hand but holding back until she knew it was a welcome touch.  “Hello, Gray,” she whispered.  “Take it easy.  You’re going to be fine.”

He frowned, eyes darting around, taking in his surroundings, none of them familiar to him.  “Where am I?”  The question was gravelly, but perfectly understandable.

“You’re safe,” she reassured him.  “I’m here, and I’m going to take care of you now.”

Gray didn’t look happy at her evasion, but Samara wasn’t about to tell him he was Torchwood custody.  That would upset him, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. 

“How did you get here?” Gray was wary and confused.

Samara needed to reassure him.  “Sweetheart, you’ve been in cryo-sleep for over three thousand years.  You’ve just caught up with me.”

The shock was evident on his face.  Gray tried to move, and that was when he noticed the straps on his limbs.  “Why am I tied down?”  He looked close to panic, and the wariness had turned into fear.

“Gray…” She didn’t know what to say about that.  Had his memory been affected by the long-term freezing?  Did he not remember what he’d done to his brother?  In the end, wouldn’t it be for the best if he did forget?

She just didn’t know.

And suddenly, Gray’s fear morphed into something else. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” he snarled, jerking his arms against the restraints.  “It’s Jamys, right?  He brought you here to convince me to forgive him!  Well, you tell him that’s never going to happen!  I’ll hate him until the day I die!”

Samara reared back from the sheet amount of venom in her younger son’s voice.  She couldn’t help the tears that tracked down her cheeks.  “Gray, you need to calm down – “

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Gray shouted, his fury battering against her like storm surge.  “It’s a trick!  He brings you in to make me pliable and I’m supposed to forgive him?”

“Herbert Grayson Wells!” Samara snapped.  This was a tantrum and she needed to put an end to it.  “You will settle down this instant!”  Gray had done this sort of thing before as a child, and by Goddess she wasn’t about to let him get away with it now, even with everything he’d been through. 

Gray’s mouth shut with an almost audible click, his eyes wide and staring.  Samara had caught him by surprise, and she wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

“Now,” she said into the silence, “you are going to calm down and let me explain.  I am your mother and you will respect me, is that understood?”

It was possibly the wrong tack to take, but she just couldn’t let him rant on like that.  Not only was it upsetting to her, but she was fairly certain Phillip would send someone in to sedate him if it kept up too long.  She didn’t want that, and if she could bring a little control over the situation by putting all of her motherly discipline into her voice then that was what she was going to do.

Gray nodded, not saying anything, still too stunned by her verbal smackdown to speak. 

“Good.”  She sat up in her chair, not bothering to wipe the tears from her cheeks.  Let him see how upset he’d made her.  “First of all, your brother didn’t bring me here.  It was the current Director of the Torchwood Institute.”  That was a partial lie, but Samara didn’t think it would do any of them any good to admit that it was Ianto who’d done the actual fetching. 

“Torchwood is still around?” The question was innocent enough, but the expression in Gray’s eyes wasn’t.

“Yes, it is,” Samara confirmed.  “And don’t be getting any ideas into your head, young man.  Torchwood has expanded throughout the Twelve Galaxies, so you’re not going to be able to bring it down just to spite your brother, who isn’t even running it anymore.”  She didn’t say that Jack wasn’t involved, but she didn’t want to give that away.

Gray flinched, which told Samara that her guess had been completely correct. 

“Director Coulson thought it was time to finally bring you out of your suspension,” she went on.  “And I agreed.  I want my child back, Gray, and the creature you’ve become isn’t my boy.”

“Then blame your golden older son,” Gray spat.  “He made me this way.”

“No he didn’t,” Samara denied.  “The creatures who took you did.”

“But he let them take me!  He let go of my hand!”

“And it was a responsibility he never should have been given.  Your father was wrong to do it.  Jamys would have failed no matter what, and it wasn’t his fault.”

Gray looked as if she’d just betrayed him.  “You can’t believe that!”

“I do.  Now, I won’t say there wasn’t a time when I wasn’t like you, but I’ve come to realise that your father was the true one to blame.  He should have stayed with you and your brother and not tried to come back to the settlement for me.  If he’d done that, none of this would have happened. But instead he gave you into the keeping of your twelve-year-old brother, and he should have known better!  It’s not Jamys’ fault, Gray.  It never was.”

With that, Gray went berserk.

He thrashed on the bed, screaming at the top of his lungs.  His face was red with his fury, and the sharp movements were digging the straps into his wrists, his fingers going white under the strain.  Samara jumped to her feet, wanting to find a way to calm him, to comfort him, but she couldn’t get close enough to him to do anything.

Goddess, her heart! Samara didn’t think it was possible for it to hurt like this.  She could only stand there and watch her younger son become more and more crazed, until someone came into the room and used a hypo to sedate him.  It must have been fast-acting; it was only seconds before Gray was still and quiet once more, the nurse checking the restraints and making certain he hadn’t injured himself during his fit.

Warm arms wrapped around her, and Samara was led away from her child who, she was beginning to accept, really was insane.




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