Jumping Jack Flash

by Peregrin_Ionad

Summary:

Written for Reel_Torchwood. Jumping Jack Flash retold Torchwood Style. Some quotes are from the film.

Ianto Jones woke slowly, reluctantly. Under the pile of blankets, duvets and cushions he’d amassed on his bed he was warm and cosy but outside of his cocoon he was pretty certain it was, as it had been for the past few weeks, bloody freezing. This was confirmed as he snaked a hand out to slam his alarm clock into silence.
Instead he hit the on button of the radio and some god-awful pop song blasted out, almost deafening him. Grimacing, he rolled out of bed and, dragging a few blankets with him, wandered over to turn on the electric heater.  The warm air did little to wake him up and he would have fallen right back into bed if he didn’t have work. He finally discovered his alarm clock lurking under his bed and he breathed a sigh of relief as the beeping stopped. He left the radio on as he stumbled through his early morning routine of a quick shower, coffee and toast. The song wasn’t too bad, he thought, at least it had a fairly catchy beat. 

Finally dressed and bundled up in his thickest winter coat he grabbed his keys and bag and swung out of the door at 7:50am. Great, he had 15 minutes for a 20 minute walk to the tube and then he’d have to fight with the rush of other commuters before he could even think about getting into work on time. Still, there was no snow or ice and with any look the cold snap which held the country in its grip would be lessening soon. The weather could do what it liked next week because he would be on his way back to Cardiff for Christmas for a whole week with no work, no worrying about just how much his boss hated him or just how dull his life was turning out to be.
Waving hello to a few of his neighbours he made his way down the stairs and out onto the street. He needed to buy some flowers, one of his co-workers liked to have a little bouquet of them decorating her desk every week and now she was over seven months pregnant he liked to buy them her as treat. But the florist wasn’t open and he had to dash into the Tesco Extra at the entrance of the tube station to pick up a bunch of tulips (tulips, at Christmas? He laughed).

The tube was as crowded as ever, made more so by the abundance of heavy coats and scarves. He stood close to the doors, pressed into several other passengers and barely able to keep the flowers from being too squashed. Around him everyone had their noses pressed into books and newspapers and even after two years in London, doing the same commute every weekday, he marvelled at how they could read on the tube when he could barely stand straight.

Ianto breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the bank where he worked. Employees were still flooding up the steps. He followed them; jogging up the stairs and through the main doors and scanning his security pass which allowed him though the ‘employees only’ door.

He passed his boss, a regular ice queen by the name of Yvonne Hartman, with a nod and a smile that she didn’t return and made his way through to his workstation.  Handing over the tulips, now slightly worse for wear, to Donna, who occupied the desk next to him and was going on maternity leave that afternoon, he gave her a quick ‘good morning’ hug and quickly logged into the system before turning to his friend, Owen Harper.
Owen had, as usual, been out on the lash the night before and Ianto was quite happy to pretend to listen to him describing last night’s conquest if it meant that he didn’t have to start work for a few more minutes. He didn’t know how Owen could still turn up with no apparent side effects any day of the week, but he was convinced Owen must have the constitution of an ox, if not an elephant.

His job wasn’t particularly interesting and he only really earned enough to pay the bills, his rent and eat, but it was a decent job and with the economy the way that it was he knew he was lucky to have it.
The day passed in its customary manner and all the paperwork Ianto filled out was blending into one by the time lunch swung around. After his lunch hour there was less work to do and Ianto spent a little while chatting to a few friends on the bank network. There were people he knew as far as Australia and America who all were connected by the transfer network in their bank and it was nice to have a conversation slightly more stimulating that was typical of one with Owen on a Wednesday afternoon.

That evening, before they went home, a party had been planned for Donna. Ianto was just about to start shutting down his computer when suddenly a message box appeared on his screen.

Knock knock.

“What’s that?” Owen asked “one of your ‘friends’?”
“No.” Ianto answered, ignoring Owen’s sarcasm “they all know I go down by six. But I can’t think of anyone who’d have access to the network.”
Owen laughed “Maybe it’s Hartman, She knows you use the system for ‘chit-chat’”. His impression of Yvonne was rather good. “I bet she’s setting you a trap.”

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Ianto typed quickly, before the message could disappear.
“Come on, let’s go.”
Ianto ignored Owen as a reply appeared on his screen

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

 

“’Jumping Jack Flash’? That doesn’t exactly sound like her” he said “She’s more your Mariah Carey type.”
Owen merely grunted his response. “Come on, Ianto, I think they’re crackin’ out the champagne and you know Donna‘ll throttle us if we don’t go to her ‘party’.”
“Scared of a girl, Harper?” Ianto grinned
“Nah” Owen looked affronted “but she’s one scary woman when she’s angry.”
“I’ll catch you up in a minute.”
“Right, and we’re still on for that pint later?”
“Sure.” Ianto agreed, before turning his attention back to the computer screen.

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

It’s a gas, gas, gas.

He was glad his dad had been into the Stones or he would never have got the next line – he had a rather different (or as some said: non-existent) taste in music.

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

It’s a gas, gas, gas.

Are you alone?

“Are you alone?” he read. Odd, he thought, but he was, or close enough, so he answered with the affirmative.
 

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

It’s a gas, gas, gas.

Are you alone?

Yes

Need to talk

 

Ok, he hadn’t expected that. Maybe it was someone on the system fooling around, it wasn’t like he was running a Samaritans service for people with disastrous love lives (well, not on a regular occasion... that advice to Annie in Australia had really been a one off thing).

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

It’s a gas, gas, gas.

Are you alone?

Yes

Need to talk

Sorry, but personal ‘chitchat’ is prohibited on this banks transfer network.

 

There. If it was Yvonne then she’d see that and hopefully leave him alone. He hadn’t even thought about what to do if it wasn’t and so was totally unprepared when a reply came through.

 

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

It’s a gas, gas, gas.

Are you alone?

Yes

Need to talk

Sorry, but personal ‘chitchat’ is prohibited on this banks transfer network.

I’m not on it.

  

Well, if the conversation so far had been confusing that stumped Ianto well and truly. The person he was speaking to must have hacked the network, but he couldn’t see how they could have done it without alerting security or setting off the automatic system shutdown.

 
Knock knock.

Who’s there?

J umping Jack Flash

It’s a gas, gas, gas.

Are you alone?

Yes

Need to talk

Sorry, but personal ‘chitchat’ is prohibited on this banks transfer network.

I’m not on it.

How are you doing this without security noticing? 

Can’t give you any details, this channel might be insecure.

 

Now Ianto was really interested. He wasn’t a genius in computers but he knew his was around the bank’s system well enough. He could create a private channel he just needed...
 

What’s your code key?

Jumping Jack Flash

No, your CODE KEY not your handle.

 

How could someone who had hacked their way onto his network not know the difference between their code key and their handle? Even Owen knew that and he regularly blew up minor parts of his computer (although very possibly because there was a gorgeous young woman and an equally good looking guy doing an internship with tech support and Owen wasn’t adversely opposed to  getting either of them into bed with him).

What’s your code key?

Jumping Jack Flash

No, your CODE KEY not your handle.

Sing with me and find the key.

Tomorrow, 7pm.

 

And as soon as the message box had appeared on Ianto’s screen, it was gone. There was no record of it anywhere on the computer and, were if not for the party he could hear in the conference room next door, Ianto could have quite easily convinced himself he had dreamt the whole thing.
Seeing Owen appear in the door he roused himself out of his thoughts and turned off the computer.

“Come on, mate.” Said Owen “There’ll be nothing left if you don’t come now and Donna’s threatening your life if you don’t show your face.”

Ianto grinned and followed Owen. He hugged Donna and planted a kiss on her cheek, but he was distracted and only got away without explanation because the others were so busy caught up celebrating the start of her maternity leave.

***

That night he sat in front of the television as he ate his tinned spaghetti on toast (because that’s what he tended to do most nights, whatever he might tell his mother on the phone), watching an old black and white romance.

“-I learned something tonight. I learned how much I love you.

-You told me that a year ago, and you let me go. You let me marry him. You never even phoned. If you’d asked me to forgive you---

-I was stupid. I didn’t know then that love was anything more than a charming scene. I didn’t know it was something that could tear at your heart and burn through the greasepaint.”

The romantic music welled and soared as the couple embraced and kissed. Ianto dropped his fork, half full of spaghetti, back onto his plate and sighed. For all he was secretly a hopeless romantic his own love life was tragically grim, the last real, meaningful relationship he’d had was with his first (and, if he was being brutally honest, only) girlfriend, Lisa. Sure he’d had dates, even a ‘proper’ boyfriend for a few weeks but... god; he really needed to get out more.

He went to bed early, trying to save a bit of money on the heating (and god knows he needed too, his pathetic wage from the bank really didn’t cover the costs of living in London) but all he could think about was that conversation. He tried reading but it didn’t work, so he turned his lamp off and tried counting sheep, but that didn’t work either.
All he could hear, going round and round in his head was: ‘sing with me and find the key’, ‘jumping jack flash, it’s a gas gas gas’, ‘network may be insecure’ ‘can’t give you any more details’.

He couldn’t take it any longer.
“Alright, Jack, you win.” he sighed as he climbed out of bed, shuffled over to his laptop and, after a few minutes of jumping up and down, trying to keep some semblance of warmth, he loaded up a music video of the song on You Tube.

“Sing with me and find the key” he mused “maybe it’s in the lyrics of the song.”

‘I was born in a cross-fire hurricane

and I howled at my ma in the driving rain,

but it's all right now,
in fact, it's a gas!

But it's all right.
I'm Jumpin' Jack Flash,

It's a Gas!  Gas!  Gas...’

***

But unbeknown to Ianto Jones, outside his flat, on the other side of the street, sat a car with blacked out windows. Already someone was watching his every move.

***

The next day passed in a blur for Ianto, the only excitement being the fleeting amusement of the video of some old sci-fi show, full of cardboard box aliens and skimpily dressed women, appearing on his screen and by now, after 2 weeks of the same episode at the same time every day, even that was getting boring, the only person still endlessly fascinated with it was Owen. Already he missed Donna, conversation with Owen got boring after a while and before his lunch hour he’d decided that he’d rather have Donna’s twice hourly panic that she might give birth right there, right now, than Owen’s endless list of girls he’d slept with (although Ianto was certain that either he’d underestimated Owen greatly or, more likely, some of the girls were totally in the other man’s imagination.)
At lunch he spent longer than he’d intended in a music shop finding the sheet music for ‘Jumping Jack Flash’ and he was ten minutes late back and shoved his precious find down his jacket so that Yvonne would not question him on it. He did have an excuse prepared though, he would claim it to be his father’s favourite song and that he was learning it as a 60th birthday present to for him. (Yvonne didn’t know his father had died several years ago and he doubted she’d find out). The key had to be somewhere in the music and if it wasn’t in the lyrics then maybe it would be in the notes themselves.

The afternoon dragged on interminably and when six o’clock came and all the others began to switch of their computers and head for home Ianto managed to summon up some old paperwork that wasn’t really of any importance and had never really needed to be completed six months ago, never mind that evening. Soon he was left all alone and, checking no one was watching, he finally pulled out the sheet music from the bag under his desk.

Knock knock.

<<ENTER CODE KEY>>

Up came the box on his screen and Ianto drummed his fingers on the keyboard excitedly. He couldn’t wait to break this code, even if he was slightly nervous about what would happen once he did.

Knock knock.

<<ENTER CODE KEY>>

Crossfire

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Hurricane

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Rain

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Gas

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Toothless

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Back

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Bearded

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

Howled

>>>IMPROPER CODE KEY<<<

 

It was none of them.  Ianto thought for a moment. So, if it wasn’t a keyword from the lyrics then maybe it was something else related? He tried ‘Copyright 1968 ABKCO Music Inc.’ but it wasn’t that. Maybe, he thought, maybe it wasn’t really related to the lyrics. Maybe ‘Jack’, whoever, wherever, he was, was a Rolling Stones fan. He tried typing ‘drugs’ next, then ‘jagger’. Now he was getting desperate, he didn’t really know anything about the Stones and he was going to have to resort to Google in a moment.
He took another look at the sheet music but nothing leaped out to him. He began to crumple it in his hands then stopped, suddenly, realising that the shop would never let him return it in that condition. Nothing was forthcoming, so he got to his feet and paced around a bit. He was good at puzzles, so why couldn’t he crack this one?

                   <<ENTER CODE KEY>>    

 

flashed at him from the screen and he ran a hand through his hair, mind racing.
And then suddenly it stuck him. He sat back down, flattened out the sheet music in front of him and slowly, carefully, typed ‘B-flat’. He crossed his fingers and hoped to god that he’d got it right.

The message box dissolved into a screen of ‘b-flat’s and Ianto punched the air. He’d done it!

Knew you could do it.

Did I pass the test?

You’re smart, that’ll help.

Who are you?

Afraid I can’t tell you. Don’t reveal the code key to anyone under any circumstances. Please.

Why all the mystery?

I’m in trouble. Really bad trouble.

What kind of trouble, exactly?

Look, you’re in London right?

Yeah.

Could you deliver a message to the American Consulate? Ask for Department U. Tell them: ‘I need to see a doctor but the buses here suck’

Right. Because they’re clearly going to think I’m sane if I do that.

Please.

I can’t go to the American consulate and talk about doctors and buses. They’ll either arrest me or call the men in white coats.

Please.

Ok, but only because you asked nicely...

***

So, because it was Saturday and because he’d promised, the next morning Ianto Jones got the tube into the city centre and walked boldly up to the doors of the American Embassy. He delivered the message, felt like a total idiot when he was told, by a very polite gentlemen in a very expensive suit, that not only did Department U not exist but his message was a load of garbled rubbish, and never once noticed, as he was leaving, the photographer who captured several images of him before vanishing into the crowd. 

***

Come Monday morning Ianto’s thoughts were still full of the message. Perhaps he’d got it wrong; perhaps he was being played for a fool. The fact that he’d have to wait until that evening to find out was killing him and he was barely listening to Owen blab on about some hot blonde bird he’d met at the weekend and how she had a friend who was just dying to meet Ianto and how he’d arranged for them to all go out on a double date that night.

“Sorry” Ianto interrupted him “But I’m already, uh, involved with someone and I’m seeing him tonight so...”

Owen looked a little put out and he would have listed all the amazing qualities of the guy he’d tried to set Ianto up with (although Ianto wondered how many there would be after ‘he’s fit’) but he was interrupted by Yvonne Hartman.

“Now” She said “I’d like you all to join me in welcoming Naoko Mori to our little family”

Beside her stood a petite Japanese woman who stepped forward and proceeded to shake the hands of everyone in the room handing out cards upon which were printed her name and telephone number.

“Call me if you ever need anything” she said to Ianto as she sat down at the empty desk next to him. But Ianto didn’t have time to wonder about it because he realised he’d never adjusted Donna’s chair back to normal after she’s gone on maternity leave and so as Naoko sat down it tipped back and Ianto only managed to save her just in time before she fell to the floor.
“
Sorry” he said “That was Donna’s chair. She was, is, pregnant and she had really bad back pain and there’s a new chair being ordered, but I’ll try and put it back into the right position for now.”

“It’s ok,” Naoko smiled at him “No damage done.”

Ianto smiled back, but before he had time to introduce himself the video of the sci-fi show started up.

“What’s that?” Naoko asked


“No idea” answered Owen “But it keeps playing on Ianto’s screen, has done for the past two weeks or so.”
Ianto began to twist a cable underneath the desk and gave his computer the occasional slap.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you” Naoko said “That’s delicate technology; really you should leave it to a trained...” She trailed off as Ianto’s screen returned to normal and Ianto emerged triumphantly from under his desk. The others returned slowly to their own workstations and none of them saw the strange look that Naoko gave Ianto.

***

 

Jack?
Look, is this some kind of practical joke?

What did the consulate say? Did you get the message to them?

Consulate said there’s no such thing as ‘Department U’.

That’s odd? Who did you speak to?

Bloke in a posh suit, Harold Saxon. Very polite, a bit smarmy. He palmed me off with a line about budget cuts, but I think he’s hiding something. And he was British, didn’t expect that at the American consulate.

Situation confusing.

What exactly is the situation? What’s going on here, Jack?

I’m sorta trapped. Not sure where on Earth I am, or if I’m on Earth at all. But you’re the only contact I have.

Trapped? Who are you, Jack? Who do you work for?

Intelligence services, you could say.

Intelligence services. You asked me to go to the American consulate, so I’m guessing you’re from the US. CIA?

Not quite. We deal in threats of a more... extraterrestrial nature. Thought American consulate would be safer than going direct to the British Government. Something odd is going on – our system was wiped, but through the Consulate’s system we should be able to at least get me out of here.

 

 

Ianto was convinced that any moment he would wake up in bed with some horrid flu. This was getting stranger by the minute. Extraterrestrial meant ALIENS, and he’d never been one for conspiracy theories, he preferred his spying straight out of one of his beloved James Bond books, shaken not stirred. Still, he’d always wanted something exciting to happen in his life, he’d just never expected it to happen quite so... suddenly.

Can I do anything else to help?

I need you to contact some people I work with.
We have a safe house in London. I need you to go there and get something for me.

 Ianto imagined all the things he could possibly be collecting from a spy’s safe house; all manner of objects more at home in the pockets of James Bond than in those of Ianto Jones, certainly.

What?

A frying pan.

Yep, that was first on my list. Clearly the essential item in any spy’s kit.

 

“Hey, are you Ianto Jones?” a voice sounded loud right next to Ianto and he shot off his chair in fright, turning off his computer screen, heart racing.

“Yes” he replied, warily, “Can I help you?”, taking a good look at the man who had appeared, seemingly, out of nowhere.

“Yeah, tech support sent me down. They said you’ve been having problems with your computer?”

Ianto Jones was no fool. He might not know everyone who worked in the bank, but he could tell when someone was lying and if this man was telling the truth then Ianto was English.

“I don’t suppose you’d mind if I called them, just to check” he asked “only, I’ve not reported any problems and I know it’s rather late for you.”

The man’s jaw twitched and his eyes screwed up in anger but he nodded and Ianto crossed the room to reach the office telephone. He traced down the list to find the extension and dialled it. But when he raised his head to ask the man his name the room was empty. Ianto replaced the phone in its socket and returned to his desk, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

***

It was pitch black outside and raining, so Ianto caught a taxi across town. The safe house was in Chelsea, a huge white address in a row of such houses. Ianto had always dreamt of living in a place like that, but a couple of million was far more than he could ever imagine spending on anything.
He clambered out of the taxi and asked the driver to wait, saying he’d only be a few minutes. He knew the driver would leave the meter running and so wouldn’t mind a few minutes hanging around if he earned more money.
There were four steps up to the front door and Ianto climbed them confidently.

“Turn the knocker once to the right and three times to the left” he repeated the instructions Jack had given him earlier that evening. Sure enough it came off in his hands and he found it to be hollow inside. He tipped it over his hand and the key to the front door spilled out, just as Jack had said it would. He vaguely wondered how the knocker could be so heavy, yet hollow, but then remembered the job he had gone there to do and quickly let himself into the house.

“Hello?” he called out softly, to the empty hallway. His shoes clacked slightly on the polished tiles and he had to get his phone out to illuminate the room enough for him to find the light switch. With the lights on Ianto felt slightly better. He was clearly alone in the house and Jack had given him clear instructions (although finding a frying pan probably didn’t take a genius, even in a house this size.)

He made his way quickly to the kitchen, which was just as he had expected; all marble and polished wood. But in his admiring he didn’t see a stool sticking slightly further out than the others from the island and tripped. He managed to catch himself on the table but his hand caught the radio and loud music suddenly blared out. Although it was highly unlikely that anyone could hear the music he panicked and hit every button on it he could see. He managed to turn it off and stood for a moment, listening out for any sounds from other parts of the house. There were none and so he cursed his stupidity and carelessness. James Bond wouldn’t have made that sort of mistake.

Then the phone rang. Ianto stood stock still and contemplated turning off the kitchen light, but before he could do anything it clicked over to answer machine.

“Hi, sorry you’ve missed us, leave your name and number and we’ll get back to you when we’ve finished saving the world.”

The voice was American, which surprised him, because Jack had told him they were based in the UK but he could hear another voice, just before the beep saying ‘Jack’ in such a tone that could only be a reprimand and he supposed that this was the voice of his Jack. He sounded cocksure and ready for anything and Ianto wondered how much you could really tell about someone from their answering machine. His was still the generic one from BT and he’d never really thought about recording one of his own – that was more the sort of thing that Lisa would do.

“Hi, Jack” The caller was a woman “I’m worried about Mickey; I’ve tried all the other numbers but no one’s answering. Please, I’m worried.” She sounded desperate and scared and not for the first time Ianto wondered what on earth he was getting into. Leaning down to the cupboard next to the sink he pulled out the frying pan and headed for the door. He would have left immediately but he took the time to right a picture that he’d knocked over whilst trying to turn off the radio. It was a simple frame and showed a pretty woman with dark hair smiling gently at the photographer. ‘Gwen, Grenada, 06’ was written on it in a think black marker.

Ianto made his way to the front door of the house. It was closed, which was funny, because he didn’t remember shutting it fully and then he saw it. Pinned to the door with a rather sharp looking knife was a Polaroid picture of himself, taken not two minutes before, examining the photograph of ‘Grenada Gwen’ in the kitchen.
Running out of the house he jammed the key into the lock and, not having time or inclination to put it back where he’d found it, he stuffed it into his pocket and leapt into the waiting taxi.
“Can we go, quickly” he said and looked up to see the taxi driver pointing a gun at his face. Terrified, but trying desperately not to show it he waited for the taxi driver (or whoever it actually was) to pull away from the curb before raising the frying pan and bringing it crashing down on the man’s head. The car swerved suddenly as the driver was knocked unconscious and Ianto realised he hadn’t actually thought this through. He decided the best thing to do would be what they did in action films and so opened the door and flung himself out into the middle of the road, just before the taxi slammed into a row of parked cars and flipped over onto its roof, black smoke blooming from the bonnet. Ianto glanced about and, realising that no one had seen him, ran.

***

Safely back in his flat and several strong cups of coffee later, Ianto set about cleaning the back of the frying pan, hoping he’d got the right one. He let out a little whoop as writing started to appear and rinsed off the soap to get a better look.
It was a list of names and telephone numbers – the other agents. 

Toshiko Sato– 0521 228 9635

Mickey Smith – 0897 665 248

Suzie Costello - 07798144752

Martha Jones – 0953 072 0841

Ianto wasn’t one usually given to paranoia, but the events of that evening had shaken him more than he’d have liked to admit and so he shut all his curtains and locked the door before retreating to his sofa, frying pan in his arms.

Taking a deep breath he picked up his telephone and began to dial the first number on the list: Toshiko Sato. It rang and rang and eventually he got an answering machine so he put down the phone, without leaving a message, and moved onto the next name.
But there was no answer from Mickey Smith either but Ianto left his name and number this time before trying the next number.

Suzie Costello answered the phone almost as soon as it had begun to ring and Ianto stuttered through giving his name.
“... I have a message for you from Jack” he said, and was wondering what to say next when she replied.

“We need to meet.”

“Is it possible to do this in the morning?” Ianto asked “only I’ve had the maddest night and...”

She cut him off, “No, I’m leaving in the morning. I’ll meet you in an hour out by the docks.” Then she put the phone down without another word.

***

It was 1:30am and Ianto Jones found himself, as was becoming a reoccurring theme for that night, with a gun held to his head. Suzie quickly checked him over, presumably for weapons, before putting her gun away and standing a few feet back, examining him carefully.

“It’s very nice of you to meet me here, Jones” she said and Ianto gave her a weak smile, “Let’s walk”.
And before Ianto could reply she had grabbed his arm and was frogmarching him to an even darker part of the docks.

“Who do you work for?” she asked as they walk, clearly a woman of few words. “Clearly not MI5, they might be amateurs but even they wouldn’t send someone so... young”.

Ianto wanted to protest but he thought the truth would probably be best.
“I work in a bank” he replied and Suzie shot him a confused look.

“You said you had a message from Jack? How? You don’t know anything about this do you?” she laughed “You’re a civilian. Hah, well done Jack”

“Jack gave me message, he hacked into my computer, told me to take it to the American consulate where a man named Saxon told me it didn’t mean anything and I’ve almost been kidnapped and shot and, quite frankly, I’d like to know what’s going on here.”

Suzie raised an eyebrow at his outburst. “What was the message?” She asked, tucking a dark curl of hair behind her ear as she walked.

Ianto took a deep breath “I need to see a doctor but the buses here suck”

“I’m sorry you got this involved” she said “We’d better pray that he’s alive”
Ianto was about to answer, ask her what she meant, because he’d spoken to Jack not six hours earlier, but there came a soft tread of footsteps behind them and Suzie began to run, dragging Ianto with her. Suddenly she shoved Ianto sideways and he fell off the edge of the path and right into the river. He didn’t have more than a few seconds to think about just what might be in there with him before he heard gunshots and saw, to his horror and disgust, the dead body of Suzie Costello hit the water and begin to float towards him on the current.

***

Drugs? He could hardly believe it. They thought he was doing drugs!
Alright, so he’d looked rather suspicious wandering away from the docks in the middle of the night, soaked, shaking and murmuring something about the dead woman floating by him on the tide. And he was still in his suit from work which didn’t exactly make him your average Rent boy material. He thought the police officer who’d found him had probably didn’t care less what he was doing down there as long as they could charge him for something.
He hadn’t wanted the police to call anyone because, despite (or possibly due to) the sudden onset of a cold and how terrified he was that this was all actually real and happening to him, he was convinced he could talk his way out of this one himself. Anyway, Lisa was down as his next of kin and it was hardly fair waking her up at 2am. Besides, she was back in Cardiff and although she was definitely his best friend she wasn’t his girlfriend anymore and it wasn’t like she could do anything but worry about him anyway. But they found Naoko’s number on the card in his jacket pocket and they must have called her because next thing Ianto knew, she was by his side.  But she was asking questions, repeating questions he’d been asked a thousand times over and he snapped. Because he was so tired and so damn scared, because it was too late at night and his life was a total mess and he’s just seen a woman shot stone dead right before his eyes and if he hadn’t gone mad already then he was certain it would be only a matter of time.
He shoved the chair away from the desk and stood up. He would have pushed Naoko away from him too but she took his arm gently and led him away to her car before he could do anything more to arouse the suspicions of the local constabulary.

***

“I don’t understand.” Ianto leafed through the newspaper, scanning each page carefully. It was the fourth he’d read that morning. “I don’t get it.”


“Have some tea, Ianto” Naoko sat next to him “it’s nettle, should help you stop sneezing.”
“Look” Ianto pointedly ignored the cup of tea “How is it possible for a man to be murdered and no one to know about it? It’s not in The Metro, The Evening Standard, The Wharf. It wasn’t in the papers on Saturday, it wasn’t in on Sunday. I wasn’t expecting it to make national headlines, but the local ones should’ve had something!”

“Maybe its best if you just forget...”
Ianto sneezed, cutting off whatever Naoko was about to say.
“Bless you” she said but couldn’t carry on because Ianto had started muttering under his breath.

“Forget about it? Forget about it? Oh no, you didn’t see that woman float past me, you weren’t there.”

“What did you say her name was?” Naoko had picked up Ianto’s copy of the Times.

“Costello, Suzie Costello. Oh look, John Lewis are having a sale on all coffee makers, of course that’s more important.”

Naoko laid the Times down in front of him. “You weren’t looking in the obituaries, the funeral is tomorrow afternoon.”

“Naoko” Ianto smiled and then sneezed again. “You are a genius.”

***

Ianto hoped more people turned up to his funeral than turned up to Suzie Costello’s. He also hoped his funeral wasn’t for a long time yet. There were five people stood at the graveside with the vicar as Ianto hurried across the wet ground to join them and Ianto could easily bet that none of them were family.

 “Hello, Mr Jones.”
Ianto turned, the voice was familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. He found himself looking straight into the eyes of Harold Saxon, the man who had turned him away from the Embassy, telling him there was no such thing as Department U. Yet here he was at the funeral of a woman he knew to be an agent (although he wasn’t sure who she worked for exactly) and who Jack had told him to contact. It was all too much of a coincidence and if there was one think Ianto Jones did not believe in, it was coincidence.

“Small world.” He said, fishing for a response.

“Indeed.” was the only answer he received,
“You were a friend of Miss Costello, then?”

“She saved my life.” Ianto replied, slowly, thinking what to say next, but was stopped from questioning Saxon further as the funeral party began to disperse.

Ianto was walking away from the graveside, unsure of his next move, although he supposed he had to contact Jack, when a woman ran up beside him, he didn’t recognise her but she seemed to know him because she asked if he was Ianto Jones.

“Who wants to know” Ianto answered cautiously.

“I’m Rose Tyler; you called my husband, Mickey. I heard the message you left on our answering machine.”
“Mickey? Oh, Mickey Smith, on the frying pan, yeah.”
“You said you had a message from Jack, but Mickey’s with Jack.”

She was young, only his age really, maybe younger and she was clearly worried. Ianto felt a small knot of panic in his stomach as he recalled the words of Suzie Costello, spoken only moments before she had died.
‘We’d better pray that he’s alive.’

“Can we talk.” he said and they began to walk down the path between the gravestones. The sky was grey and overcast and promising rain.

“Are you MI5?” Rose asked “UNIT?”

“Actually” Ianto replied quietly “I work in a bank. I’m just a friend of Jack’s." Well, he thought, it wasn’t that far from the truth. “I’m not quite sure how I got into this.” he confessed “and to be honest, I’m certain I know how to get back out either.”

“Maybe I can help you, I...”.
Whatever Rose was about to say was cut off as another young woman walked past them, she could only have been Ianto’s age as well and he marvelled at how young all the agents were, and how many of them appeared to be women.

“Good afternoon” she said “Rose, Mr Jones.” And then she was gone out of the graveyard.

“Who was that?” Ianto asked “and how did she know my name?”

“That’s Martha Jones” Rose replied, as if that was explanation enough.
‘Martha Jones’. Ianto thought for a moment “She’s on the frying pan too. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

Martha was in her car as Ianto reached it and the chauffeur was pulling away from the curb.

“Excuse me!” Ianto shouted and ran alongside the car. Had there been anyone on the street he would have appeared odd talking to a set of blacked out windows, but it was empty so he carried on.
“I have to speak to you! I have a message from Jack; I tried to call you a few days ago!” But the windows remained closed and as the car pulled out onto the main road Ianto had to give up. He sighed and turned back to find Rose Tyler.

***

“Could you please tell me what’s going on” Ianto asked. He was stood in Rose’s kitchen whilst she shoved clothes into the washing machine with such a blank expression that Ianto could tell her mind was far from on her task.

“Someone’s out to scare you. Stop you getting to Jack.” Her London accent had become more and more pronounced throughout the afternoon and Ianto could tell it was a sign of how worried she was. He quickly removed the washing powder from her hands before it spilt all over the floor.

“Well” he said “they’re doing an awfully good job of it. Do you know who?”

Rose shook her head, but Ianto was sure she did.
“It’s not UNIT, probably someone foreign.” She shrugged.

“UNIT? That’s the second time you’ve mentioned them. Who are they?”
“Secret service.” Rose replied but would give not further answer. She moved towards the kitchen where her two children were either decorating a cake or engaged in some terrible intergalactic war. From the amount of red icing (at least Ianto hoped it was icing) splattered over them and the walls he decided on the former, although with the week he was having he really wouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore.

***

Toshiko Sato?

Unavailable

Martha Jones?

Uncooperative

Mickey Smith?

His wife said he was with you.

Was. We lost contact. Guessed he’d just got homesick.

He never made it.

I have another favour to ask.

Ok.

 

Ianto wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to, but he’d got involved this far. He couldn’t let Jack down now.

 

I need you to back to the consulate.

Who should I talk to this time? Saxon didn’t believe me, so who will?

Their computer. It has exit contacts but the security is too tight for me to hack it, it needs to be done from inside the building.

I’ll certainly give it a try. I’m quite good with computers.

Great. Get yourself an evening dress; you’re off to the Christmas party at the American Embassy tonight.

Better a dinner suit

Sorry?

I’m a man

With a name like Iona? Least, that’s what your tag says.

Ah. They got my name wrong when they imputed it into the computer system. I’d only been working here a couple of days when I noticed, didn’t want to kick up a fuss so I never mentioned it. Now it’s just there for fun. I mean, as long as it’s not on my pay check it doesn’t really matter.

Right. I see. I guess.

It’s Ianto. My first name, I mean. I’m Welsh. I suppose I shouldn’t say my surname in the sake of secrecy and all that.

Probably best. Welsh, you say. Gotta love those beautiful Welsh vowels.

So, about this party?

No, couldn’t possibly ask you to go now.

What! Why? Surely that’s the sort of thing you’d say if I was actually a girl!

No. A woman could blend in easier, they’ll have tabs on all the men but who’s gonna notice another wife or girlfriend. Plus you obviously aren’t friends with the same sort of women I am, hah; they’d knock you for two.

Yes, I think we’ve established that none of my friends are spies, thanks.
Now...

No, I’m sorry, it’s too dangerous.

You’re sorry! Sorry! I can’t believe you’re saying that! I’ll find a way in, believe me! You can’t stop me.

Very well, be at the American Embassy for 19:00 sharp. Should be fairly simple if you can get inside and up to the top floor unnoticed.
If you can get in without an invitation you’ll have to be inconspicuous.

  

***

Ianto was dressed in a tuxedo which he'd borrowed mostly off Owen (the shirt and tie were his, the trousers and jacket however didn't seem to have seen the light of day since Owen had graduated from University) and as he entered the Embassy building he felt completely under-dressed. There was a long queue of guests waiting to present their invitations and, looking around, Ianto could tell that their suits and ball-gowns probably cost more than he earned in a month.
The couple standing in front of him were America, he could tell by their accents but he couldn't tell anything more specific than that. He knew that American accents were as varied as British, but he'd never really been able to tell the difference between them. 

The couple stood being him were, however, English. Ianto guessed that one of them worked at the Embassy, probably the wife from the greetings she was shooting at everyone behind her in the queue. The husband meanwhile was complaining, in what wasn't the world's most discrete whisper, about everything. The queue was too long, they should have got here earlier, would have done if his wife hadn't spent 'such a bloody long time' fixing her hair and make up. Everyone in the queue was clearly pretending not to stare at them.

“May I see your ticket, please”

Ianto hadn't realised he'd reached the front of the queue. He floundered for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times, in a remarkable impression of goldfish, before he could regain his composure.

“I'm, arm, I'm the entertainment” he said and hoped to God that the next few minutes went to plan (not that he had a plan, which was probably why he was panicking in the first place). He reached a hand round to his back and pushed the 'play' button on the portable cassette player tucked under his suit jacket. A jazz song started up and Ianto began to mouth along to the words (glad he'd had the presence of mind to root out a tape rather than rely on his own singing.)
The song was loud enough to catch the attention of the whole queue and Ianto, wondering quite when he'd become so forward, linked arms with the woman behind him and advanced through the doors and down a grand staircase into the main hall.

“Elizabeth! Elizabeth, come back!” the husband called out as he waved his invitation at the receptionist and hurried after his wife.

 As soon as he reached the foot of the stairs, Ianto switched off his music and strode into the midst of the crowd. There was an orchestra playing and tinsel was strewn elegantly along the walls ('well', Ianto thought, 'as elegant as tinsel could get'). In one corner there stood an enormous Christmas tree, which dominated that side of the room. And next to it, to Ianto's delight, stood Rose Tyler, looking about as in need of a friendly face as Ianto himself.

 ***

To reach Rose, however, Ianto had to make his way across the crowded ballroom, which was full of foreign dignitaries and officials, Embassy staff and, Ianto noted with a slight boyish delight and more than a slight amount of trepidation, men in dark glasses and comms who could only be secret service. It was like out of a film and part of Ianto still didn't quite believe that he was right in the middle of it.

“Excuse me.” a deep American voice interrupted Ianto's thoughts and he looked up at the man in front of him. He was elderly and dressed in a very smart military uniform.

“We must shake hands now.” the man prompted and Ianto extended his hand cautiously. Jack hadn't prepared him for this.
Ianto made his way along the line, shaking hands and feeling a little dazed. He wasn't sure how he could carry out his 'mission' with all these people around. He already stuck out like a sore thumb in his cheap suit.

He extended his hand to the last couple in the line before he had a chance to look at them properly. The man he didn't know but the woman... memories of the picture in the safe-house swam through his head and Ianto found himself staring, rather rudely he'd think later, at 'Grenada Gwen'
He tried to summon up something to say, because the two of them were now giving him an odd look, when Rose appeared at his side.

“Hey Ianto.” she said quietly and smiled at him, not looking at all surprised to see him there, and then, before he could reply, said “Lord Rhys, Lady Gwen, may I present my, my cousin, Ianto Jones.”

“Ah, Rosie” Lord Rhys replied in, as Ianto should have guessed from the names, a welsh accent. A Cardiff accent in fact, very similar to his own. There really seemed to be only a handful of Americans there, Ianto thought. He didn't think most American's knew Wales existed and he certainly didn't know there were any lords in Cardiff.

“How do you do?” Gwen asked and Ianto waited a few seconds before replying.

“You know” he said “I can't get over the feeling that we've met before.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Gwen shot him an odd look. “Maybe you've just seen me around Cardiff or London. We don't do any of that Lord and Lady stuff really, apart from events like this.”

She wasn't quite how Ianto had expected he to be and it cheered his that there were others in the room who felt just as out of place as he did. But this Gwen knew Jack and it really wouldn't hurt to fish for a little more information.

“Wasn't it Grenada, 2006?”

“Well, yes, I was in Grenada in the summer, you know, a bit of a girl's holiday with my mates.” She wasn't telling the exact truth and Ianto could tell, but he didn't call her on it but just smiled and replied “Thought so.” before Rose grabbed his elbow and steered him away.

 ***

“How do you know Gwen?” asked Rose as they walked around the edge of the ballroom, looking in vain for somewhere private to talk.

“I don't,” Ianto admitted “her picture is in the safe-house Jack sent me to. It said 'Gwen, Grenada, '06.'
“Yeah,” Rose replied “They used to work together a few years ago, up until Gwen had her baby and I guess Jack wouldn't let her carry on with her family at stake.” Rose shrugged “She works part time with them now and still bloody good at her job.”

The idea of a part-time spy made Ianto grin. Then he remembered why he was there.

“Look, I need to get to the fourth floor.” he said.

“I'll show you the way.” Rose linked him and began to lead him straight across the dance-floor.
 They reached the opposite side and she pointed towards the set of stairs just to their right.

“Just go straight up there.” she told him, not asking why he needed to g up, for which he was very grateful. He thanked her and weaved his way between various couples and a few waiters and was almost at the bottom of the stairs when:

“Well, well, well, Mr Jones.”
“Mr Saxon.” Ianto recoiled a step but Saxon put a firm hand on his arm to stop him going any further.
“Look at you” he said “turning up at all the most auspicious occasions.”
Ianto tried to wriggle out of Saxon's grasp but found himself unable to. There was something very wrong about this man.

“Lets have a little dance”. Saxon grinned and pulled Ianto flush against him, his left hand taking Ianto's right and his other far further down Ianto's waist than could ever be considered innocent.
Ianto knew he couldn't dance, not even if he wanted to, which he certainly didn't now, and he couldn't get away from Saxon who was looking at him in exactly the same way, Ianto imagined, as a cat would look at a mouse, just before it moved in for the kill.

“Heard any more from your friend Jack?” Saxon asked, raising an eyebrow. Ianto didn't like the way he said it and...

“May I cut in?" Rose's voice sounded from behind his shoulder and Ianto thought he was going to die of relief.

“You're such a good dancer, Mr Saxon.” Rose carried on, and sure enough Saxon let go of him and took Rose's hand.
Ianto made good his escape; he'd have time to thank Rose later.

 ***

Reaching the fourth floor, Ianto pulled out a map he'd drawn, as per Jack's instructions, and made his way quietly down a corridor and through a set of heavy wooden doors. He reached the end of the next corridor and heard the sound of a TV issuing from a small room marked 'Security Only'. The door was open a touch and Ianto could see the two guards who should have been inspecting the CCTV footage were glued to a small TV set instead. Ianto wasn't sure what they were watching, late night television not at all being his thing, but as long as it kept them occupied and they didn't hear him in the room next door, he didn't mind.
The only problem was that the office next door was locked. Peering through the small glass window, however, he could make out a slightly open window and decided there was only one thing for it: he was going up to the roof. 

***

Finding the steps up to the roof was easy enough and there was a wonderful view of London from the top. Ianto made his way carefully to the edge and, working out where the window would be, leaned over the edge to check for footholds before easing himself over. It wasn't as bad as he thought, although he suspected that was because there were a couple of cables to hold onto and The fourth floor was only six feet below the roof anyway. There was a nice wide windowsill and it only took him a minute to push the window open and pull himself inside the room. However, just as he did so he made the mistake of looking down. He froze for a moment before he worked up the courage to let go of the cable and drop into the room. When inside he sat on the floor for a moment, hands shaking. He wasn't exactly scared of heights, but that was just ridiculous. This Jack had better be worth it, or, at least, a really good shag.

 

 

 

He made his way to the computer and, after it had loaded up, logged on with the password and user-name Jack had given him. Then he pulled out a small device he'd made another visit to the safe-house to find (this had been hidden in a pot of coffee and he's been through four before he'd found it.) and reached under the desk to clip it to the back of the computer.
Suddenly the printer sprang into life, whirring, beeping and flashing, and a list of numbers began to scroll up the computer screen. Ianto didn't have time to try and stop it before a security guard entered the room and he was forced to scramble under the desk to hide.
The Guard's legs were only inches from Ianto's face as he shut down the computer and shredded the papers from the printer.
When he left, Ianto let out a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and extracted himself. He ran to the shredder, but it was too late. The guard hadn't switched the shredder off, but all the paper was gone. Ianto sighed and was wondering what on earth to do next when he felt his tie pulling tight around his throat. It was caught in the shredder and Ianto desperately tugged and pulled and managed to free himself, just in time.
He was annoyed because not only was it not very James Bond, but he'd rather liked that tie.

 

Looking rather worse for wear, Ianto made his way down the stairs and back into the hall. Saxon and one of his cronies were right in front of him but he managed to catch the eye of Rose Tyler, who hurried away towards the Orchestra.
Ianto hoped she had a good plan and remained crouched behind the banister until the first notes of the American National Anthem started up. Saxon didn't join in the song, but he did move away from the staircase and so Ianto, minus his tie and jacket (the latter had caught on something on his way back up to the roof and he'd had to abandon it), made good his escape.

 

***

 

It was well after midnight by the time Ianto made it back to his flat. Wondering how he was going to explain the loss of the jacket to Owen he took a moment to get out his keys before he looked at his door. It had been forced open and was still a little ajar. Steeling himself for what lay inside, but not being able to hear any noises from within, Ianto gently pushed the door open. He flicked the light on and stared around in horror. His flat had been completely trashed. Papers and books had been ripped apart and strewn across the floor. The furniture was tipped up and crockery smashed. The furniture was all tipped over and his clothes were trailed around the living room.
Ianto looked at the devastation and wondered, not for the first time, just what the hell he'd got himself into. 

 

He wandered through his flat, righting a chair, picking up a few items of clothing. It all seemed so unfair and he wanted to crawl into bed and never get back out, but he couldn’t because it had been tipped over and his duvet was torn apart and scattered on the floor, just like everything else in the damn house. Suddenly the carpet looked very appealing and he was just about to sink down onto it when the floorboards at the top of the stairs, right outside his door, creaked. Ianto froze, looked around for something, anything to defend himself with. In his desperation he latched onto Jack’s frying pan and, gripping it tightly, inched towards the front door, which, in his horror over the state of the flat, he’d left open.

The footsteps reached his door and steeling himself, Ianto leapt forward with a cry.

Whatever he expected, it wasn’t to see Naoko scream and duck out of the way of the frying pan. Ianto dropped it and began to apologise immediately, worried he’d hurt her. He hadn’t and Naoko began to apologise as well, because she’d clearly given him the fright of his life.

“Bloody hell Naoko!” Ianto said, after he’d recovered slightly. “You almost gave me a heart attack. What sort of person sneaks about at two in the morning?!”

Naoko hit Ianto with her handbag.
“I called at eleven, I called at twelve, and I called at one. Ianto, I promised... I promised that policeman I’d take care of you.”

“I’m fine Naoko honestly, I’ve not jumped in any more rivers or anything.”
 

Naoko grinned, but then looked around Ianto’s flat, seeing the devastation for the first time.
“Ianto, what happened to your flat?” she sounded as worried as Ianto felt. 

“I had a party, a great, wild, house party. Just me.” Ianto was too tired to come up with a better response or even to be properly sarcastic. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to clear up this mess.”

 

 

 

***

 

It took him several hours to put his clothes away and to get his bedroom into a semblance of normality. He finally crawled into bed just after four and when his alarm woke him at seven he felt (and looked) like he’d never been to bed.

 

 

The next day passed in a daze, his only way of telling how long he had been sat at his desk being the amount of paracetamol gone from the packet.
When 7pm swung round he was ready to lay his head down on the desk and fall asleep right there. He couldn’t ever remember feeling this bad after a night out, especially one where there was a distinct lack of alcohol. 

 

The beep-beep of the computer alerting him to a message made his head jerk up and he realised he’d almost dropped off to sleep.

 

 

Ianto

Ianto

did you make it Ianto?

Course I made it.

Oh, you’re brilliant!

I know.

Time to get your contact home. 

I hope that device works.

It will.
My friend designed it and there’s nothing she can’t do with technology.

 

 

 

In the little office on the fourth floor of the embassy building the computer whirred into life.

 

>>>STATE REQUEST<<<

 

 

 

Ianto punched the air as the box appeared on his screen. They were in.

 

Jack fed him the request and Ianto entered it into the box. 

 

 

>>>STATE REQUEST<<<

Request: UNIT LIASON/TORCHWOOD OPERATIVE FILE #11-41-71-5

Contact File: M/J-N4D

CONTACT NUMBER:

 

 

 

Then suddenly Ianto’s screen went black, before switching back to his usual background. Jack’s messages were still there, but the box with the contact number was gone.

 

 Ianto, what the hell’s going on?

No idea. Someone must have caught us.
 

Now what? 

Guess I’ll have to take the long road back.

If I can.

Thanks for your help but there’s nothing you can do now. Neither of us are safe.
But it was nice knowing you, Ianto Jones.

No.
No.
We’ll think of something!

You can’t just give up.

Please Jack.

Please.
Jack!

 

Ok.
7pm tomorrow.
Please be careful.
I want you in one piece so I can thank you properly when I get home!

 

***

 

 

 

The next morning Ianto hadn’t quite come up with a plan. In fact he hadn’t really got one at all. So he did what he always did when in doubt: made a list.

 

 

 

Good Guys  | Bad Guys

 

 

                     

He put himself in the ‘good guys’ side, because that was rather a given. And Jack, of course, because it was all about Jack after all.
“

What are you up to?” Naoko asked from over his shoulder and Ianto hurriedly turned his screen off.

 

“I’m just checking over my Christmas list.” He answered, surprised at how good he was becoming at lying on the spot. 

 

“Oh, am I on it?” Naoko enquired.

 

“Yep, I’ve got you a…”

“Ooh, don’t tell me!” Naoko interrupted and hurried to her own desk.

Relieved, Ianto turned his screen back on.
 He put Saxon straight onto the ‘bad guys’ side, because there was something rather creepy about him. He thought for a little while before adding the taxi driver and the computer repair man under Saxon’s name.
Martha Jones, Toshiko Sato and Mickey Smith were added as ‘missing, but good’, Suzie Costello in ‘dead, but good’.
Rose Tyler went straight in the ‘good’ column and Ianto rounded it off with Gwen. Good (but definitely knows more than she’s saying). A quick text to Rose, who had given him her mobile number in case of ‘emergencies’ got him Gwen’s London landline.

 

He rose from his chair and made his way to the door. He was almost on his lunch hour and if he could get past Yvonnes' office without her noticing...

“Mr Jones”. Yvonne had caught him. Ianto stuffed his phone into his pocket and swiveled round on his heels.

“Ah, I, erm.”

“Where do you think you are going, Mr Jones? Get back to your desk this instant!” Yvonne was getting shriller by the second.

“I don't feel too well.” said Ianto. “ I'm just nipping to the loo.”

Yvonne didn't look impressed.
“You were ill the other day, weren't you?  And your work hasn't been up the standard I expect at all this week. Pull your socks up Mr Jones, or there will be repercussions.”
Ianto swallowed nervously and nodded. Yvonne turned back into her office and he took off at a run.

 

The road outside the bank was fairly quiet, most people were out doing some Christmas shopping and no one really wanted to check their bank balances at this point in the holiday season.

 

Ianto dialed the number quickly and wished he'd thought of throwing on his coat and scarf. It was colder than he'd anticipated, although not as bad as it had been the past few weeks, where the cold felt as though it was permeating your very bones.
The phone was answered not, as Ianto has expected, by a PA or housekeeper, but by Gwen's husband (Rhys, if Ianto remembered correctly). Ianto thickened his accent and told Rhys that he was a mate of Gwen's, up in London for work, he's have rung Gwen but he wanted to surprise her, did Rhys know where she was?

Rhys informed him that Gwen was at Harrods with her mates, having a girlie day shopping and at the spa. Ianto could hear a note of disgust in Rhys' voice at the thought of a 'girlie shopping trip' and commiserated accordingly.

A car stopped next to Ianto and the driver called out to him for directions. Ianto thanked Rhys and put his phone away in his pocket and before leaning down to answer them.
 He tried to step back in surprise when he realised it was the taxi driver he'd brained with a frying pan over a week earlier, but the man had grabbed his wrist and pulled him right up to the side of the car.
Ianto looked around but the street was still empty, suspiciously so, and as the man pushed a hypodermic needle full of a clear solution into his wrist, Ianto was certain he was going to die. He tried in vain to pull away, yelling at the man to stop.

“Hush,” said the man, gently, “Just let the truth serum take effect. You're not going to die until you've told us everything about Jack.”

Ianto watched as the man's face fizzled and twitched until it was replaced by something green and definitely not human.

“God.” said Ianto dully “You're an alien.”
 The hand on his wrist was now a tentacle, he noted with some interest. He probably would have been more scared about that if his bones didn't feel like they were melting.

“Evidently.” The alien replied and Ianto wondered if it could speak English or if it was being translated. He must have spoke out loud because the alien gave him an odd look.

“Where's Jack?” it said “Tell me the truth, Jones, come on.”

“How do you know my name?” Ianto asked “I'm not going to tell you anything, nothing, I don't know anything, I'm not telling you anything about Jumping Jack Fla-” he clapped his free hand over his mouth.

“Where is he?” The alien reiterated. “Just tell me his code key and I'll let you go.”

Ianto laughed and it took him a while to work out how to stop. His ears were ringing and his hands were shaking.

“The key is the key.” he said and laughed again. It took him even longer to stop this laughing this time and the alien shoved him against the wall, reaching for a gun. But in doing so it let go of Ianto's arm and Ianto ran, as fast as he could with his legs trembling and his heart pounding. Even under the influence of the serum he knew that if he got round the corner and into a taxi he could get away.

 

***

 

Ianto flung himself out of the taxi and tossed the driver a note. It probably wasn't the correct amount but before the driver could speak, Ianto was across the pavement and inside Harrods.

 

He worked his way over to the lifts and trawled his finger down the map until he found the spa. It took him a few goes because the map was blurry and Ianto wondered how anyone could read it and why they hadn't complained, before he realised that the problem was with his eyes, not the map.
He was terribly hot when he stepped out of the lift so he undid his shirt by one button and loosened his tie, though it did little good. He half staggered to the lift to enquire if Gwen was there before he realised that the alien must have given him too much of the serum, because how anyone expected him to tell them anything when his brain felt like it was crawling out of his ears he didn't know.
The receptionist must have assumed he was drunk, or perhaps raving mad, because she spoke very gently to him, but blocked his way. The part of his brain most affected by the serum decided, rather independently of his common sense, that it would be a good idea to call Gwen's name. He made his way through the spa, past many clients in pale robes. The walls were white too and it was too bright for his eyes. He closed them, but the relief was only momentary because when he reopened them, he was nose to nose with a security guard.

 

“I’m sorry mate, but you’ll have to leave.” said the guard, in the time honoured fashion of security guards everywhere.
 Ianto really wasn’t in the mood. He needed to find Gwen and find her fast. Jack’s life depended in it. His head was aching fit to burst and he felt he might drop down dead any moment. Death by alien truth serum wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned on going. 

“Look.” He said. “You see this face. This is the face of a man on the edge.”

“I know.” replied the guard. “My boyfriend gets the same face when we get stuck in traffic.”

Ianto wanted to point out that he was suffering from something slightly worse than a bout of road rage, but decided he didn’t really have the time.

 

“So the question you’ve got to ask yourself is,” he said instead, “Do you want to work here, or do you want to live?”

The guard stepped away saying “live”, and Ianto hurried on.

He eventually found Gwen having a massage. She sent the masseur away with a flick of her hand and raised her eyebrows at Ianto.

 

“Nice to see you again, how are you, Ianto?”

“I’m fine.” Ianto answered, then “Well, you know, apart from the fact that I hate my job, half the time I wish I’d stayed in Cardiff, I seem incapable of having a proper relationship and on the whole this alien stuff is really a mistake.”

“Right.” Gwen didn’t have a reply to that. “Do you have any news on Jack?” She asked.

“He’s stuck, ‘m not sure where, he doesn’think i’s on earth.” Ianto was beginning to slur, but he carried on. He’d be dammed if this was going to stop him getting Jack home.

 

“I’m not sure…” Gwen started, and then trailed off. “I think…”

“You mus’ know wha’to do.” Ianto exclaimed “ I know you work for‘im.”

“Yes,” said Gwen “But the situation’s more complicated than you realise, it’s not just Jack’s life on the line here. He can survive, he knows what he’s doing, but innocent people will be in danger if we don’t get this right.”

 

“But wha’bout Jack?!” Ianto couldn’t believe Gwen was willing to risk Jack’s life like that. “Jus’cause it’s ‘is job doesn’ make him less’mportant.”

“Ianto, I’ll help, but you wouldn’t believe the bureaucracy involved. We might be fighting aliens but it doesn’t mean we can do away with paperwork. I’ll do what I can, as fast as I can. I promise.”

 

***

 

Ianto made it back to the bank way after his lunch hour had ended. He no longer felt the urge to tell anyone he passed exactly what was on his mind but he wasn’t walking straight and he felt incredibly dizzy.
Yvonne was waiting by his desk as he entered and Owen, who was behind her, mimed slitting his throat. 

“Mr Jones” she said, a note of horror in her voice. “Are you drunk?”

Ianto shook his head (and immediately wished he hadn’t). Owen came towards him and took his arm. 

“Jesus, Jones,” he whispered “You’re bloody pissed.”

“’m no’ pissed” Ianto slurred “I was drugged by aliens, ’m tryin’ to help my friend Jack, the one on the ‘puter, he’s a spy an’ he catches aliens, bu’ he’s stuck.” It wasn’t really helping his case. 

“He’s rambling.” Owen announced as Ianto fainted dead into his arms. Quickly he felt for Ianto’s pulse as Naoko called after Yvonne, asking if they could put Ianto in her office.

 

***

 

Ianto was holding an icepack to his head and just going for a lie down when the knock came at his front door. He opened it warily, sliding the chain on so he could peek out the crack. It was Gwen, Ianto didn’t know how she’d found his house but he suspected he didn’t really want to.

“I’ve brought the something for you.” She said and waved an envelope at Ianto. He slid the chain off and opened the door, letting her inside. He felt a little ashamed at his flat as Gwen looked around in interest. He’d not really had the time to put the finishing touches to it since it had been trashed and things weren’t quite in the right places.

Gwen handed him the envelope and instructed him to give them to Jack the following evening.

“Then he should be home in 24 hours.” She said and smiled happily at him, “You did a great job persuading me this afternoon,” She added “I think we sometimes take Jack for granted, I think too much about the bigger picture sometimes--”

“Sorry” Ianto interrupted her “I’m not sure what I said. The first thing I remember about today is waking up on the floor of my boss’ office being told that this was my last warning and next time I’d be fired.”
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then.” Gwen said and let herself out.

 

***

I’ve got your ticket home.

Great, where did you get it from?

A friend of yours, Gwen, she helped me out. I’m beginning to see what you meant.

Anyway, you have to meet the ‘Doctor’ - I suppose that’s some sort of codename? - tomorrow evening. Send off a signal every hour, on the hour, throughout the day and he’ll be able to find you. Be ready to meet him at 5pm.

How can I thank you?

Well, I wouldn’t say no to dinner.

Dinner it is. How about the Ivy, 8pm on Wednesday?

Wait, don’t you have to book that place months in advance?
I really don’t mind where we eat.

I don’t think it’ll be a problem getting in, I have my ways and means... 

Ah. Well, ok then, I’ll look forward to it.

So will I.

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Ianto had a spring in his step as he made his way towards the tube station. The winter air was crisp, the Christmas lights bright and he was happy. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t realise he’d walked farther than he’d meant to and was in a part of the city he didn’t know too well. A group of three girls stood giggling on the corner, it wasn’t even 9pm and they had already drunk far too much. He walked past them, wondering if he’d ever really been like that, his misspent youth seemed so long ago. Just as he passed one of the girls began to walk next to him, a slight stagger in her step.

“Fancy partyin’ with us, gorgeous?” she slurred and Ianto found himself desperately hoping that aliens would take that moment to invade central London. They didn’t, however, and he had to answer her.

“Sorry” he said “Under different circumstances I’m sure I’d love to, but I’m in a rush”, he carried on walking, trying to pick up his pace. The girls were persistent, and he had to turn back to them.

“Look”, he sighed, “I’m gay and I have a boyfriend, please leave me alone.”

That seemed to work and the girls retreated muttering something about ‘always gay or married’ under their breaths. Ianto breathed a sigh of relief and carried on walking. He had only gone a few feet when a car pulled up next to him and the aliens who had been following him all week got out. Ianto turned and ran after the girls.

“Hold on!” He shouted “I’m fine, I’m straight, I’m single, lets party!”
The girls looked back at him, saw aliens, still in humanoid forms, but now wielding guns, chasing him and began to run themselves. Another alien, all purple tentacles and goo, oozed out of manhole between Ianto and the girls. Ianto stopped short, nowhere left to go, as the three aliens raised their weapons and...

 

 

 ...Ianto awoke with a banging headache for what felt like the thousandth time that week. He couldn’t move his arms, or his legs, or his head and he struggled a little before he heard voices approaching. Keeping his eyes firmly shut he tried to even out his breathing and let his body go loose, the voices came closer and Ianto could identify one as the taxi-driver who had drugged him the previous day, another as one of the aliens who had kidnapped him that evening. At least he hoped it was that evening.

 

Something was placed, none too carefully, onto the floor close by him and the voices retreated. Ianto waited a moment, to make sure they were really gone, before he opened his eyes.

“Hello” he called out quietly, feeling a little foolish in case he was actually alone. “Hello?”

There was a muffled sound from somewhere near his feet but Ianto couldn’t turn and too look because he was lain on what felt like a metal table, cuffs holding down his arms and feet. He sat in silence for a little while until suddenly a young woman’s face came into view. One Ianto recognised.

“Martha Jones?” he said incredulously, “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask the same of you, Ianto Jones, except I already know.”
 She pulled something out of her pocket and waved it over the cuffs, the loosened and Ianto sat up, a little dizzy, but otherwise unharmed.

“What was that?” He asked “I mean, how did they not notice you had a gadget on you?”

“Sonic screwdriver” Martha smiled “Borrowed it off a friend. Now listen to me, there’s something I have to tell you.”

 

***

 

“Well” said Ianto “I suppose things can only get better.” He raised an eyebrow at Martha and she laughed. “And I suppose being held captive by aliens sort of explains your hurry to get away from me at the funeral.”
“I am sorry about that, but if they thought I was going to help Jack...”
“It’s ok, really, the most important thing is that we’ve helped him now.”

“Ah” Martha’s face fell. “You know you said things could only get better...”

“No, please don’t say that...”
“The information Gwen gave you came from me, from them. But I have the real contact too. I thought I’d be able to get out of here and get it to you before now, but there were... complications.”

 

***

 

There were footsteps on the corridor leading to where Ianto and Martha were being held (Ianto assumed it was a basement and there was no sign of what time of day or night it was). Martha quickly arranged the cuffs over Ianto’s arms and legs so it appeared as though they were fastened tightly and then did the same to the rope which had been used to tie her wrists and ankles. Then she lay on the floor, eyes closed, as the door opened.
Saxon strode through and right up to Ianto, two henchmen on either side.

“So,” he said, “We meet again Mr Jones.”

Ianto sniggered, half from the shock of being chained to a machine in a basement by aliens, and half because in his head he had replaced ‘Jones’ with ‘Bond’.

“I don’t think you’ll find my news quite so funny, Jones.” Saxon said, itching, Ianto thought, to rub his hands together in glee. “You see, I know exactly where your precious Jack Flash is, and I know he is sending out a signal to this,” he held up a PDA, “Every hour on the hour, and at 5pm today he will be expecting the Doctor to collect him. Only the Doctor will never come, only one of my friends here. Such a shame you spent so much time unconscious or you might have had a chance to save Jackie after all.” He indicated to the man on his right.

“Sorry?” Ianto said, his mind racing. If he could trick Saxon into believing he had sent a different message... “That’s not what I told him.”

“What do you mean?” Saxon hissed.
“I mean, that’s not the message I sent.”

Saxon looked furious as he nodded to the two men.
“Start the unit up,” he said “we’ll see if he won’t sing out the truth when he’s made of metal.”

 

One man pressed a few buttons and the noise of clanking metal and whirring gears came from above Ianto. He looked up to see a scissors and knifes and other surgical looking instruments descending from above him and he bit back a cry.

 

“What message did you send to Jack?” Saxon asked “What did you tell the freak?”

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Ianto replied, voice shaking, but sounding far calmer than he felt.

 

“Tell me” Saxon said “and I might just switch the machine off. Or at least I’ll make it speed up.” He laughed. “You have no idea how fun this thing is. It will make you into my little tin soldier and then you’ll march for your master. Now don’t worry, but this might hurt a little.”

 

Suddenly Ianto heard Martha’s voice yelling. From the corner of his eye he saw her rise up from the floor and draw a tiny pistol. She took out the two henchmen with two perfect shots, before they could react, then Ianto realised she was shouting his name. He managed to scramble off the machine, she grabbed his hand and they ran.
Behind them, Ianto could here the machine still running and Saxon yelling for someone to stop them. Saxon must have drawn a weapon because Ianto felt hot sparks bounce off the frame of the metal door onto his neck, but he kept running, Martha by his side. They ran along several corridors until the reached a flight of stairs. Martha pushed Ianto ahead of her and he took the stairs two at a time. When they reached the top Ianto realised they were in the Embassy building.

“Go.” Martha ordered him, gun still in hand. “Get the message to Jack.”

 

***

 

 

Ianto didn’t stop running until he reached his desk. Owen and Naoko crowded him worriedly, asking him where he had been (Owen’s questions containing far more swearing than was, Ianto felt, really necessary). The clock on the wall showed it to be far to close to 5pm for Ianto’s liking and he willed the computer to start up quicker. It was only when it was loaded and the clock showed 4:55pm that Ianto realised he had no why of contacting Jack. It had always been Jack who had sent the messages and Ianto had carefully deleted every trace of them afterwards. He sat down in his chair, mind racing, unwilling to admit defeat, but unsure of what else he could do.
Then the familiar ‘ping’ of a message box sounded from his computer and Ianto looked up. It was Jack.

 

 

 

Ianto?
Ianto?
Are you there?

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be setting off in a minute.
 

The Doctor doesn’t have the best timing, but I trust him on this. 

I’ll see you on Wednesday for dinner.

Ianto?

 

 

 

As Naoko, Owen and all Ianto’s other colleagues, who had now congregated around his computer to see what all the fuss was about, began all talking to him at once, Ianto typed a reply.

 

 

 

Ianto?
Ianto?
Are you there?

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be setting off in a minute.

The Doctor doesn’t have the best timing, but I trust him on this.

I’ll see you on Wednesday for dinner.

Ianto?

 

Jack.

Don’t make the contact.

it’s

 

 

 

Suddenly, the door of Yvonne’s office opened and they all turned, en masse, to see Yvonne, accompanied by Saxon and another man, who Ianto didn’t recognise, but decided it didn’t take a genius to work out was one of his cronies, and very possibly an alien.

“I am talking,” Yvonne sounded furious “to two very important members of the British financial community, and all we can hear is this rabble.”, her eyes alighted upon Ianto, “Mr Jones, I might have known. You’re fired.”

Saxon reached out a hand to Yvonne’s arm.
“Don’t you worry” he said “I understand what it’s like dealing with troublesome employees.” He began to advance down the stairs and across the room towards Ianto’s desk. Before him the group parted like the waves of the red sea to leave only Ianto, sat his computer. Saxon reached Ianto, put his hands on Ianto’s shoulders and turned him so they were facing the screen. Ianto stiffened, but Saxon kept his hands in place. Leaning close into Ianto’s ear he whispered, “Tell him you’re mistaken, that the contact is fine, he must hurry to meet him.”

Ianto glanced from the screen, to the clock, to the keyboard, then pushed back his chair, stood up and told Saxon to do it himself. There was no way Ianto Jones was having any more of Jack’s blood on his hands.

Saxon calmly pulled out his gun, put it to Ianto’s head and re-iterated “Tell him to meet the Doctor.”

“Do it yourself.” Ianto replied, equally as calm.
Saxon sighed, shoved Ianto away and pulled the nearest chair over to the computer, the chair from Naoko’s desk. It collapsed under him and Ianto laughed.

“Oops, looks like the new chair hasn’t come.” He stepped over Saxon and began to type, he was just about to send the message when all hell broke loose. Saxon grabbed his ankles and dragged him down onto the floor, Ianto kicked and punched for all he was worth and he would have got back to the computer but bullets began firing around the office and he threw himself back down onto the floor. 

 

Everyone in the office dropped at the sight of an alien, now obviously non-humanoid, wielding a gun, apart from Naoko and Owen. Naoko dived for her handbag and Owen for the drawer of his computer desk where they retrieved their guns and began returning fire.
The alien fired a sharp burst of bullets across the office, taking out several computers and a window, then the clocks, set to different time zones, first Washington, then New York, Moscow, New Delhi, Beijing, Tokyo, Paris, all shattering into a million tiny pieces to rain down on their heads.

 

Naoko and Owen fired together and both bullets hit the alien who crashed to the ground, stone dead. Ianto rose to his feet and launched himself at Saxon, bringing one knee down, hard, between Saxon’s legs. Saxon crumpled and Tosh hurried over, pulling a set of handcuffs from her bag. She forced Saxon’s arms behind his back and pushed him to the floor, where Owen promptly put a foot on him to stop him standing up.

 

Naoko ran to Ianto’s computer, gun now safely stowed back in her bag. 

 

 

Jack, it’s Toshiko, Ianto has the number for you to call the Doctor. We can get you home now.

 

 

 

“You’re Toshiko Sato!” Said Ianto “I tried to... you’re on Jack’s pan!”

Tosh nodded “I’m here undercover.” she said and nudged Owen who was stood next to her.
“See,” she said to him “I told you he’d find the frying pan.”

Ianto looked from Tosh to Owen and back again.
“I’m sorry? Owen? But you’ve worked here as long as I have, I’ve known you for almost a year? Tosh has only been here a few weeks, but surely whatever you’ve been doing you can’t have been undercover for that long?”

“Ah” Owen had the grace to look slightly bashful, although it only lasted a few seconds. “Sorry mate, but I haven’t. I’ve been here two weeks longer than Tosh but we had to make you all think that I’d been here longer, two new employees in two weeks, bit suspicious.” He shrugged “We just used a bit of alien tech to make it seem as if I’d been here ages, harmless though, trust me, I’m a doctor.”

“You changed my memories?! All of our memories!”

“We... “ Tosh trailed off, she had no answer to that.

“It’s harmless, like I said” Owen shrugged “it’s what we have to do.” 

Ianto didn’t agree, but he didn’t say anything.

“I came here undercover to receive Jack’s messages. Tosh worked it so he’d contact a computer in this office, only he contacted the wrong bloody one!”

Tosh laughed and it pleased Ianto to see that she was the same person who’d become his friend over the past few weeks, even now her cover had been blown.
“No”, she corrected Owen, “You got the wrong computer.”
Owen held his hands up, “Guilty as charged. I was never any good at that stuff, that’s Tosh’s area. She even set up that sci-fi film to give Jack cover to get onto the system.”

Tosh looked pleased at the complement, but Owen didn’t see, he was too busy telling Ianto about how he’d been at the bank in the day and chased aliens by night. The world, Ianto thought, had definitely gone mad, because this story was more believable than the ones about girls ever had been.

 

A thought struck him and he considered it for a moment before asking Tosh and Owen.
“Gwen and Rhys, they’re not really a Lord and Lady, are they?”

Owen grinned. “Nah.”
“We knew there was something odd going on at the Embassy when Torchwood credentials couldn’t get us tickets to the Christmas party.” Tosh explained “So we faked a few papers here and there, pulled a few strings. Gwen works with us and Rhys runs Harwood’s, a haulage company.”

“Not Harwood’s, ‘You won’t be sorry, with a Harwood’s lorry.’ Harwood’s?”

Owen and Tosh nodded in unison, both laughing.

 

***

 

It was raining as Ianto stepped into The Ivy. He took off his coat, wondering how he could have got so wet in the short walk from the tube station. He didn’t know what to expect and he stammered out the reservation, under the name of Torchwood (which, from what he’d gleaned off Tosh and Owen, seemed to be the least inconspicuous secret organisation ever). He was lead to a table in the corner where he spent the first five minutes perusing the menu with some suspicion. It wasn’t quite as expensive as he’d heard (off a very jealous Lisa, who he’d rung the previous evening in a panic over what to wear, and whether the whole thing was a good idea in the first place. He hadn’t mentioned any specifics about he’d met Jack and he knew he’d have to come up with something before he went home for Christmas.)
He ordered the cheapest glass of white wine he could, which, at £7 a glass, cost about as much as he’d usually spend on a whole bottle. He waved away the waiter, waiting for Jack to arrive before he ordered.

People came and went from the restaurant and 8pm soon turned into 8:30, then to 9:00, 9:30 and Jack didn’t arrive. Ianto had worked his way through three glasses of wine and two starters and still there was no sign of him.
The clock was ticking ever closer to quarter to ten when Ianto spotted Toshiko approaching his table.

 

“Hi Ianto.” She said, looking almost as awkward as he felt. 

“Toshiko, what are you doing---”

“Here?” she finished his question for him. “Jack sent me, he can’t make it, they’ve had a slight problem in Cardiff. I’m sorry Ianto, I know he really wanted to be here.”

Ianto shrugged. “It’s alright, you know, I mean, all I was were some words on a screen. Saving the world’s more important than a date.” He summoned a waitress and asked for the bill. When she returned Toshiko held out a credit card.

“Jack asked me take care of the bill.”, She smiled and Ianto felt even more miserable.

“I can pay it, it’s only fifty quid. If you pay...”, He sighed, “if you pay it’s too much like him leaving my room and putting money on the bedside table and I...” paid and quickly left the restaurant, Tosh on his heels.

 

The rain had faded to a drizzle as Ianto stepped out into the street. Tosh reached up to put a hand on his shoulder and, for one of the very few times in his life, Ianto Jones had nothing to say. It was ridiculous, he told himself, to become attached to Jack like he had.

 

“I can give you a lift home, if you need one.” Tosh said quietly.

“It’s ok, I’ll get the tube.” Ianto turned to face her. “It was just dinner, just a thank you dinner. How did I get so attached to him?”

“Happens to the best of us.” Tosh smiled up at him. “Even to Jack.”

 

***

 

Ianto knew he should be happy, at 7pm tonight he would be on the train to Cardiff, going home for Christmas, to hand out presents, eat turkey and stuffing and roast potatoes and pudding until he couldn’t face another bite, to see his family, but...
He’d not heard a word from Jack. He could forgive him for Wednesday evening, because saving the world was probably more important than dinner, but a phone call would have been nice. It had been radio silence for two whole days and now Ianto was beginning to feel disappointed as well as annoyed.

 

Suddenly he heard the familiar ping of a message being sent to his computer and his heart skipped a beat before he told himself to stop being so foolish. The computer pinged again and Ianto turned his chair around to face the screen.

 

 

Knock knock.

Knock knock.

I’m sorry about dinner. Some aliens have no sense of timing, turns out Weevils don’t do dating. Still, crisis averted, World saved, well, Cardiff saved anyway.

 

 

 

Ianto took a large gulp of coffee. Should he answer? He began to type ‘I don’t care about Cardiff, but I did care about---’ before he noticed that Jack had used the word ‘date’.

 

 

 

I hope you plan to reimburse me for the dinner, I had to eat two starters, they didn’t even provide complementary breadsticks.

Well, next time you’re in Cardiff I’ll make you a booking in Abalone’s, get you all the bread sticks you could wish for.

Nice... If you go for a salad-bar with a sneeze guard.

I do still want to take you out to dinner though.

I don’t know if that’s...

I’m not sure...

Do you think that’s a good idea, I mean, I know all about your secret organisation, shouldn’t you be trying to wipe my memory about now?

 

 

Ianto took another swig of coffee and slammed his mug bag onto his desk. Could he sound any more like a little boy who’d watched too many spy films?

 

 

Don’t do that, you’ll break your cup.

 

 

 

“Thank you.” Said Ianto, absentmindedly. Then...

 

 

 

Don’t do that, you’ll break your cup.

Where are you?

Two rows back on the left.

Oh.

 

 

 

Ianto’s hands were shaking slightly and felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights. He felt a hand on his shoulder and knew it was Jack.

 

“Aren’t you going to turn around?” Jack asked, and his voice was just how Ianto had imagined it too be.

 

‘No.’ Ianto typed and Jack answered ‘Why not?’ as if it seemed the most obvious thing in the world that Ianto would fall straight into his arms.

 

Jack ran a finger down Ianto’s cheek and cupped his chin, turning his face towards him. Ianto stared up into Jack’s eyes and realised exactly why he was expected to fall for Jack.

 

“Hi Jack.” He stuttered slightly and inwardly swore at himself for doing so. But Jack didn’t seem to notice. He gave Ianto a million dollar smile, drew him up out of his chair and kissed him gently.

 

 

***

 

Four weeks later:

 

 

The end of January was fast approaching but the weather was just as cold as it had been at the beginning of December. Ianto turned off his computer screen and lent back in his chair, eyes closed. He heard footsteps heavy on the metal steps to his right but pretended not to, staying still until he felt the whisper of Jack’s breath on the nape of his neck, then he swivelled his chair round and caught the other man’s lips in a kiss, pulling Jack down to his level.

 

 

They stayed there for a moment before Jack pulled back.
“Sorry to break this off just as we were getting to the good part,” he said “but a weevil waits for no man!”

 

Ianto rolled his eyes before he grabbed his gun and followed Jack out of the Hub.