Torchwood IMs: Jack Learns About Archiving
Title: Jack Learns about Archiving
Chapter: 30
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Humour
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: M.M implied
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto gets owned by Jack's Grammatical Research skills. He doesn't react all that well ... for frakkin_addict
01 | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
02 | Ianto and Southern Comfort
03 | Skiving with Captain Andy
04 | Ianto and Jack's IMs
05 | Tosh? Gossiping? Never!
06 | What Toshiko Saw ... (Prose)
07 | Captain Andy handles the Force
08 | Ianto and SOCO Strikes Back
09 | Into the Boardroom (Prose)
10 | Ianto's, Tosh's, Gwen and Jack's IMs
11 | Ianto and Rhys' IMs
12 | Obtained File: CPD/Torchwood Liaison Meeting #13
13 | What Toshiko Wants (Prose)
14 | The In-Laws
15 | Mike
16 | Ianto and Jack's Snuggles
17 | Sorry, mam ... I mean ... Gwen
18 | Kisses (Prose)
19 | Australia
20 | White and Nerdy
21 | I Didn't Miss You (Prose)
22 | Gwen and Rhiannon's IMs
23 | The Waiting Room
24 | The Glitch (Interactive)
25 | Obtained File: Torchwood/CPD Liaison Meeting #14
26 | Ianto and Rhys VS SOCO and Cool
27 | Ianto and Rhys VS SOCO and Cool (Translation)
28 | Ianto and Gwen: The Morning After
29 | PC Andy's Application
30 |
Jack could hardly contain his excitement. He’d been waiting all day for this. There were even butterflies in his stomach that had slowly dragged themselves to life over the past few hours - hours that had dragged on so slowly he had convinced himself on several occasions that time had, indeed, stopped. But now Gwen was on her way home and Ianto was tidying up some debris that had been strewn throughout the hub during the course of the day, and Jack was all ready to just take a deep breath and do it.
It had been earlier that day when Jack had found it. Gwen had been called out to the police station and Ianto had got a phone call from his sister, so Jack had offered to sort the last few of Toshiko’s papers into vaguely organised piles ready for him to file. Ianto had seemed a little pained at the idea, but okayed it anyway knowing that Jack meant well and that he could probably just re-organise them again afterwards. Three plastic pockets of numbers and calculations and formulae on endless reams of paper into the pile, and Jack found it. An A4 manila envelope, unmarked apart from two words: For Jack. He’d stared at it for about two minutes before tearing it open and pulling out a single printed sheet of paper ... and it was this that Jack was about to wave under Ianto’s nose in all of two seconds.
Ianto was by Gwen’s desk, picking out crumbs from between the keys on the keyboard and muttering about “Why does she ask for a plate for her biscuits when she doesn’t bloody use it ...” when he was disturbed by the sound of Jack’s far too innocent whistling. He stopped mid grumble, turned towards Jack and narrowed his eyes as he approached. His hands were behind his back and he walked with a funny, almost dance-like sway ... and he looked far, far, far too pleased with himself. An involuntary eyebrow was soon raised.
“I know something you don’t knowww.” Said Jack, in that schoolchild sing-song way that annoyed everyone in the whole world ever. The involuntary eyebrow found itself raising a little higher.
“Are you going to share, or do I have to guess?” Ianto groaned. He couldn’t be bothered. He just wanted to go home and have a bath (preferably, though he couldn’t quite believe it, without Jack) and watch a Disney classic. He was thinking Pirates. He did prefer his Captains to be named Jack, after all - and when he sometimes indulged in a little imagination during sex, whether he moaned “Jack” or “Captain Jack” wasn’t too much of an issue; the man he was actually in bed with wouldn’t know the difference. Ianto felt a twinge a guilt at taking satisfaction in the fact that there was very little chance of Jack ever being able to pull the same trick.
Jack was still doing the strange walkey-dance thing. As he approached, he obviously couldn’t have helped breaking into that big, dopey grin. He slid a single sheet of A4 paper onto Gwen’s desk and stood back while Ianto read it:
There was silence as Ianto digested the information. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Removing his jacket, he turned to Jack. He pulled out his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves and straightened his waistcoat. Jack squared up to him, ready for when the first blow came ...
... but it didn’t. Jack felt mild confusion as Ianto turned sharply and began to make his way towards the Archives. What was going on? They were meant to be fighting! Punching, kicking, biting, tripping, grabbing, sweating - masculine and hot and adrenaline-fuelled, as their bodies were beaten and bruised, ready to be loved and kissed and caressed afterwards ... but there was Ianto, too far from arm’s reach to be fought with and moving quickly further away. Jack shifted from foot to foot for about two seconds, then followed him at a trot. He decided not to call for him. He wasn’t needy, after all ... but would calling for him to stop and come back sound needy? Maybe if he shouted him once, just to see if there was a reply or if he would stop ... just to gauge the situation.
“Ianto!” he called. No answer. Ianto just kept on walking, striding ahead quickly. Jack took that as a “follow me” signal.
Despite the fact that Jack had been at Torchwood Cardiff for nearly a hundred years, he still had no idea how to navigate the Archives without Ianto. Ianto, on the other hand, knew them like the back of his own hands (but then again, he had just found a freckle there the other day that he could have sworn didn’t exist a month ago ... ) and by the end of his first month at Torchwood was depended upon to guide the other team members through the endless tunnels and shelves and boxes and crates. Jack had never really been past the first few Archive rooms - apart from when he went down and destroyed many of the files kept on him. He’d also been forced to go down there the night Lisa died, but even then he’d had Toshiko giving him directions based on Ianto’s heat signal. Jack swallowed at the thought of Toshiko - and then at Torchwood’s dependence on Ianto. For everything. When he left, they’d be crippled.
Jack hadn’t seen Ianto stop, and nearly went straight into him. He’d flicked on a light and the corridor was illuminated by fluorescent bars in the ceiling that stuttered and blinked and needed new covers. Ianto stood, leaning against a wooden double door with his arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other.
“How does my archiving system work, Jack?” Ianto asked. Jack embarrassedly fumbled for words. He found himself toying with his sleeve like a scolded child. He heard Ianto’s heavy sigh. “Lord give me strength ...” he muttered. “That paper. Toshiko’s message. There was an Archive Index Code on it. Did you even bother to try and remember what it was?”
Jack had, indeed, noticed the AIC scribbled at the bottom in Toshiko’s writing. He’d copied it onto a post-it, but couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was. “I wrote it on a post-it.” He said, trying to get a couple of brownie points for trying.
“Were you then, perhaps, going to ask me to go find it for you?”
“Perhaps.”
“Do you even know what the numbers in the codes represent, Jack?”
“No.”
“Pity. Well, I’ve brought you to the right tunnel. You’re on your own from here.”
Jack felt his stomach drop. “What?”
“The number was 25-23-115-657/PC.” Called back Ianto as he started to move away. He halted at a corner, leading away from the direction they’d both just arrived in. “Once you know what the AIC is, it’s really easy to find what you want ...” he paused before disappearing out of sight. “... if you know what you’re doing.”
Jack stood on his own outside the big wooden doors. He was fairly certain he was in one of the tunnels. Why hadn’t he counted on his way down? Moving to the middle of the tunnel, he looked up and down and tried to get his bearings. Both sides of the tunnel were exactly the same - same doors, same walls, same bland unidentifiable clones of each other. Jack turned on the spot a couple of times, craning to hear the sound of Ianto’s fading footsteps. He wouldn’t really leave him down here, would he? Was he really angry, or was he playing a game? Should he shout the safe word? Mentally, he shook himself. He had to find the location the AIC pointed to, he had to find what was there and he had to take it back to Ianto and make him proud. If he was quick enough, he might even be able to convince him that he’d known how the Index Codes worked all along ...
He froze. He’d lost count of how many times he’d managed to revolve on the spot trying to listen for Ianto’s now faded footfalls. What direction had he gone off in? What direction had they got there from? Jack stamped his foot in frustration. Why had he moved to the middle of the corridor? If he’d have stayed by that door he could have got his bearings from that ...
Something caught his eye. Above one of the doors was a number: 26. He repeated it to himself ... the first number ... that was twenty-five. Twenty-five ... then twenty-three ...
Jack decided to sit down for a couple of seconds. Wandering around probably wouldn’t help. He decided to do what Ianto would do: think about it logically. Jack decided the first number must be the number of the tunnel he needed. Ianto said he’d brought him to the right one, but there was always the chance he was testing him to make sure. Now that Jack had recognised the doors were numbered, he figured the lower numbers would lead to the beginning of the tunnel and thusly a sign declaring what tunnel he was actually in. He stood up and made a move.
Some of the doors had such a large gap in between them that Jack thought he’d gone too far and somehow missed the end, but always breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the next big planks of wood flicker into existence under the bad lighting. When he finally came to the T- junction that lead to the long corridor beyond, he couldn’t help but take a little bit of pride in at least finding the general corridor for getting out - of this level of the archives at least. Tunnel 25 ... would that be on the third level, fourth level ... even the fifth level?
Jack emerged onto the general corridor and looked up above the archway of the tunnel. “Tunnel 24” it read. Jack grinned to himself. Ianto was testing him properly. Now ... would the numbers increase or decrease if he went right? Which direction had they come from? Jack couldn’t remember. He kicked himself again. He decided that the numbers would ascend if he turned left from the tunnel entrance. If they didn’t he could always double back ...
The next tunnel was labelled “Tunnel 26”. Jack was stumped. There was no tunnel 25! Maybe he’d got it wrong ... maybe that was the right tunnel ...
“Behind you.” Said Ianto’s deep voice. “Odd numbers on the left. Like in hotels.” He was leaning, relaxed, against the wall, not six feet from Jack. Jack couldn’t believe how quietly he’d followed ... and he should have known that Ianto wouldn’t really leave him on his own in these catacombs. He could starve to death a thousand times over and still not find his way out.
“This is the left.” Said Jack.
“No. That’s your left. You left tunnel 24 the wrong way ... though it was funny seeing you stamp like a six year old when you realised you’d lost your bearings.”
Jack turned behind him. All he could see was darkness. He stepped forward, in the vain hope of it being a Labyrinth-esque optical illusion - and met nothing but cold rock. “Okay okay, where is it?”
“The doors in the tunnels are symmetrical. The entrances to them are not. You’ll have to figure out which way to go yourself. I’ll just follow you and give you disapproving looks while you struggle onwards if you like.”
“Thanks.” Said Jack sarcastically. He decided to move in the direction that lead behind Ianto. He got two paces past him and heard a tut and sigh of disapproval. Jack stopped, turned on his heel and started back the way he’d come. He heard Ianto snigger to himself.
Jack hated being in the archives. He was out of his depth. The feeling of being lost - and with someone who could help him get un-lost that was refusing to help - infuriated him. He half wished he’d torn off the AIC from Toshiko’s message. If he had, he and Ianto could be having sex now. Jack felt his body react to the thought of sex, and his heart cried out for Ianto’s lips to kiss him.
“You know,” he heard Ianto say, quite a few feet behind him. “If you don’t concentrate you might get lost ...” Jack turned back, and Ianto was again leaning against a wall. He nodded his head at a large opening in the rock opposite him. The Captain nonchalantly began making his way back. “Tunnel 25” read the sign above the entrance. Jack felt a bit of relief.
“I was trying to figure out what the next numbers in the code meant.” Offered Jack, by way of explanation.
“So you admit you’ve never once listened to me tell you what they mean?”
Jack winced slightly. He could hear disappointment rather than annoyance in Ianto’s voice.
“I know what you were thinking about. I could tell from the way you were walking.”
“What was I thinking?” asked Jack with a slight predatory smirk.
Ianto’s eyes rolled. “You were thinking about sex.”
“Wasn’t, actually.”
“You were. Then you started thinking about kissing.”
Jack grabbed him by his shoulders, held him roughly against the wall and forced him into a hard, passionate kiss.
“Forced” was the word. He’d thought at first that Ianto wasn’t going to give at all, but eventually he relented, snaking his arms around the Captain’s shoulders and gently massaging at his back. It seemed strange - Jack’s passion and desperation was somehow matched to Ianto’s calmness and deliberation, meeting somewhere in the middle.
They broke apart. “The ... next ... the next ... number ...” gasped Ianto. “The next number is the room ...”
Twenty-three, recalled Jack. He turned away from Ianto sharply, marching down the dark tunnel, practically punching the light switch on the way. The doors weren’t quite so far apart here, and door twenty-three was easily found. The DNA recognition lock admitted him and the door swung open into a long, narrow room filled with tall, grey metal shelving units. Jack felt gentle arms snake around his waist and a warm cheek press into his neck. He stroked the hair on the back of Ianto’s hands absently, considering the meaning of the next number. Obviously, the numbers would hone in on whatever it was the code directed to. Shelving units would be his next guess. Jack raised his eyes, and sure enough the shelves were numbered. He looked to his left and right - there didn’t seem to be a hundred and fifteen shelving units in there. Ianto’s exasperated sigh tickled him slightly.
“The rooms are deeper than they look.” Said Ianto, as if revealing some wondrous secret to a child. Jack hummed his annoyance, and made his way down one of the narrow corridors made by the shelving units. Each one was only about 6 feet long by a foot and half, and on each one were metal boxes that looked like computer towers. Jack stopped when he realised that each one had a name written on it. White sticky labels with Ianto’s handwriting were attached to each of them. One of the nearest said “Harriet”. Another said “Michael”. There was a “Christopher” and a “Jack” and a “Millicent”. The one named Jack had couple of lights on, and it seemed to whirr a little, like there was a cooling fan inside.
“Did you name each of these things?” asked Jack.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Respect, I suppose. They’re hard-drives. Every little scrap of information about every single Torchwood employee is stored in one of these things. It’s hooked up to the main computer system - which is semi-sentient. When an employee dies, it switches off the relevant hard-drive.”
Jack looked at what was obviously his hard-drive. He noticed a couple of others with “Jack” written on them too, but they were silent. “Why are those switched off? I can only remember one other Jack working for Torchwood, and that was in the fifties. He’ll be further along, won’t he?”
“Those are yours. The first one switched off after Abaddon - that’s why I was so convinced you weren’t coming back. Then the second one switched off while you were ... away.” Ianto gave a small laugh. “You know ... I used to sit in front of it and stare at it, willing for it to come back on.” Jack looked away. “It never did.” He finished quietly. “I had to set up a new one.”
Jack said nothing, but continued his journey, checking shelf numbers as he went. He clocked that each hard-drive had a number too. That solved the next part of the code.
Section 115 was about halfway towards the full depth of the long, narrow room. He could see that every shelf beyond it was empty, and that on one of the sections, two of the machines were whirring: “Gwen :)” and “Me”. “Toshiko :)” and “Owen Tosser Kinda alright now.” were silent.
Unit 657 was the one labelled “Me”. Ianto.
Jack stood in front of it. “What was the last bit? Of the code?”
“PC.” Said Ianto.
“What does that stand for?”
“Not sure. Could be Personal Communications ... could be Penis Cup. Won’t know until you look.”
“How do I do that?”
Ianto sighed for the millionth time. Jack’s lack of knowledge of his own archives was worse than he’d originally thought. He turned without speaking, stooped to the bottom shelf and pulled out a slim metal box. A laptop. He opened it up and put it on an empty shelf. The clickety-clack of typing seemed to fill the big, long room.
Jack watched as Ianto navigated the Torchwood mainframe, and felt a sudden rush of anger as he realised that everything in this room could probably have been accessed from his office. He could see Ianto’s smirk reflecting from the smooth, plastic screen of the computer. Ianto had known all along.
Jack stood by him and looked over his shoulder. He was typing the Archive Index Code into an Archive catalogue program that Jack had never seen before. Jack grinned as he realised that “PC” was “Personal Communications” after all ... but which one had Toshiko intended he find? He was about to voice his thoughts when he noticed that one of the subject lines was flashing.
Ianto clicked on it, and stood back.
Jack moved in front of the monitor as the page loaded. An image appeared. A photograph ... of Toshiko and Ianto. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and were sticking their tongues out at a camera held to arms length. Under the picture was the caption “WELL, JACK ... YOU HAD TO LEARN SOMEHOW!”. Jack laughed at the joke, the picture and the exasperation he’d been feeling for the last two hours. He stopped when he heard Ianto sniff and stifle a sob.
“It was ... it was meant to be fu-funny.” He managed. “We planned it. Together. We realised ... we realised you knew nothing. Wh-wha-what would you have done? Y-y-you weren’t ...” he broke down properly, sobbing freely. Jack pulled him fully into his arms, pulling him close and feeling strong fingers cling to his blue shirt. Ianto took a couple of breaths, inhaling Jack’s scent and calming himself. “I forgot it was in those piles of papers. I forgot to hide it again. You weren’t meant ... you weren’t meant to find it un-until ...” he lost control again. Jack stayed silent, holding him tight, massaging his thumbs into Ianto’s body, waiting for him to talk.
Ianto wept a little longer, his tears soaking through to Jack’s skin. His sobs were silent now, and less pronounced, and whatever had been stored up in his emotional system was coming out. Jack felt him take a deep, steadying breath and Ianto straightened and looked him in the eye. “You weren’t meant to find it until I was dead.”
FIN
Firstly, I'm going to be changing the way I update the comms. I'll be updating my journal as and when I write, but I've been asked to write an update post every few days with links to all the parts I've done in one entry rather than seperate ones. Obviously if you've friended me, you hopefully wont be missing anything, but I'll keep all my back-links and Index updated. There's RSS too if you're dedicated LOL.
If you want to friend me, feel free. This journal is fic only, so there'll be no random "I hate my life/job/parents/signifcant other" moans here. There may be an "OMG I ACTUALLY MET RUSSELL HOWARD LAST NIGHT!" mention (oops ... there it went!!) but yeah ... fic!journal. Anyhoo, onwards and upwards (and probably outwards) ...
Apologies to frakkin-addict I did promise this part would be smutty, but it didn't feel right. I will write a grammar!fetish fic just for you, as well as dedicating this one.
FINALLY ... new layout hotness! Let me know what you think or what needs changing!
xoxox
This part was written on request (kind of) and dedicated to frakkin_addict.
Next Part | Previous Part | Torchwood Index | Request a Convo/Prose Fic
Chapter: 30
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness
Author: a_silver_story
Genre Humour
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: M.M implied
Disclaimer: If I owned anything in this, I'd be a rich rich rich bitch. However, I am not a rich rich rich bitch so you may all, therefore, assume I own nothing. Which I don't. It all belongs RTD and the BBC, in case any of you didn't know.
Summary: Ianto gets owned by Jack's Grammatical Research skills. He doesn't react all that well ... for frakkin_addict
01 | Ianto and Gwen's IM's
02 | Ianto and Southern Comfort
03 | Skiving with Captain Andy
04 | Ianto and Jack's IMs
05 | Tosh? Gossiping? Never!
06 | What Toshiko Saw ... (Prose)
07 | Captain Andy handles the Force
08 | Ianto and SOCO Strikes Back
09 | Into the Boardroom (Prose)
10 | Ianto's, Tosh's, Gwen and Jack's IMs
11 | Ianto and Rhys' IMs
12 | Obtained File: CPD/Torchwood Liaison Meeting #13
13 | What Toshiko Wants (Prose)
14 | The In-Laws
15 | Mike
16 | Ianto and Jack's Snuggles
17 | Sorry, mam ... I mean ... Gwen
18 | Kisses (Prose)
19 | Australia
20 | White and Nerdy
21 | I Didn't Miss You (Prose)
22 | Gwen and Rhiannon's IMs
23 | The Waiting Room
24 | The Glitch (Interactive)
25 | Obtained File: Torchwood/CPD Liaison Meeting #14
26 | Ianto and Rhys VS SOCO and Cool
27 | Ianto and Rhys VS SOCO and Cool (Translation)
28 | Ianto and Gwen: The Morning After
29 | PC Andy's Application
30 |
Jack could hardly contain his excitement. He’d been waiting all day for this. There were even butterflies in his stomach that had slowly dragged themselves to life over the past few hours - hours that had dragged on so slowly he had convinced himself on several occasions that time had, indeed, stopped. But now Gwen was on her way home and Ianto was tidying up some debris that had been strewn throughout the hub during the course of the day, and Jack was all ready to just take a deep breath and do it.
It had been earlier that day when Jack had found it. Gwen had been called out to the police station and Ianto had got a phone call from his sister, so Jack had offered to sort the last few of Toshiko’s papers into vaguely organised piles ready for him to file. Ianto had seemed a little pained at the idea, but okayed it anyway knowing that Jack meant well and that he could probably just re-organise them again afterwards. Three plastic pockets of numbers and calculations and formulae on endless reams of paper into the pile, and Jack found it. An A4 manila envelope, unmarked apart from two words: For Jack. He’d stared at it for about two minutes before tearing it open and pulling out a single printed sheet of paper ... and it was this that Jack was about to wave under Ianto’s nose in all of two seconds.
Ianto was by Gwen’s desk, picking out crumbs from between the keys on the keyboard and muttering about “Why does she ask for a plate for her biscuits when she doesn’t bloody use it ...” when he was disturbed by the sound of Jack’s far too innocent whistling. He stopped mid grumble, turned towards Jack and narrowed his eyes as he approached. His hands were behind his back and he walked with a funny, almost dance-like sway ... and he looked far, far, far too pleased with himself. An involuntary eyebrow was soon raised.
“I know something you don’t knowww.” Said Jack, in that schoolchild sing-song way that annoyed everyone in the whole world ever. The involuntary eyebrow found itself raising a little higher.
“Are you going to share, or do I have to guess?” Ianto groaned. He couldn’t be bothered. He just wanted to go home and have a bath (preferably, though he couldn’t quite believe it, without Jack) and watch a Disney classic. He was thinking Pirates. He did prefer his Captains to be named Jack, after all - and when he sometimes indulged in a little imagination during sex, whether he moaned “Jack” or “Captain Jack” wasn’t too much of an issue; the man he was actually in bed with wouldn’t know the difference. Ianto felt a twinge a guilt at taking satisfaction in the fact that there was very little chance of Jack ever being able to pull the same trick.
Jack was still doing the strange walkey-dance thing. As he approached, he obviously couldn’t have helped breaking into that big, dopey grin. He slid a single sheet of A4 paper onto Gwen’s desk and stood back while Ianto read it:
There was silence as Ianto digested the information. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Removing his jacket, he turned to Jack. He pulled out his cufflinks, rolled up his sleeves and straightened his waistcoat. Jack squared up to him, ready for when the first blow came ...
... but it didn’t. Jack felt mild confusion as Ianto turned sharply and began to make his way towards the Archives. What was going on? They were meant to be fighting! Punching, kicking, biting, tripping, grabbing, sweating - masculine and hot and adrenaline-fuelled, as their bodies were beaten and bruised, ready to be loved and kissed and caressed afterwards ... but there was Ianto, too far from arm’s reach to be fought with and moving quickly further away. Jack shifted from foot to foot for about two seconds, then followed him at a trot. He decided not to call for him. He wasn’t needy, after all ... but would calling for him to stop and come back sound needy? Maybe if he shouted him once, just to see if there was a reply or if he would stop ... just to gauge the situation.
“Ianto!” he called. No answer. Ianto just kept on walking, striding ahead quickly. Jack took that as a “follow me” signal.
Despite the fact that Jack had been at Torchwood Cardiff for nearly a hundred years, he still had no idea how to navigate the Archives without Ianto. Ianto, on the other hand, knew them like the back of his own hands (but then again, he had just found a freckle there the other day that he could have sworn didn’t exist a month ago ... ) and by the end of his first month at Torchwood was depended upon to guide the other team members through the endless tunnels and shelves and boxes and crates. Jack had never really been past the first few Archive rooms - apart from when he went down and destroyed many of the files kept on him. He’d also been forced to go down there the night Lisa died, but even then he’d had Toshiko giving him directions based on Ianto’s heat signal. Jack swallowed at the thought of Toshiko - and then at Torchwood’s dependence on Ianto. For everything. When he left, they’d be crippled.
Jack hadn’t seen Ianto stop, and nearly went straight into him. He’d flicked on a light and the corridor was illuminated by fluorescent bars in the ceiling that stuttered and blinked and needed new covers. Ianto stood, leaning against a wooden double door with his arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other.
“How does my archiving system work, Jack?” Ianto asked. Jack embarrassedly fumbled for words. He found himself toying with his sleeve like a scolded child. He heard Ianto’s heavy sigh. “Lord give me strength ...” he muttered. “That paper. Toshiko’s message. There was an Archive Index Code on it. Did you even bother to try and remember what it was?”
Jack had, indeed, noticed the AIC scribbled at the bottom in Toshiko’s writing. He’d copied it onto a post-it, but couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was. “I wrote it on a post-it.” He said, trying to get a couple of brownie points for trying.
“Were you then, perhaps, going to ask me to go find it for you?”
“Perhaps.”
“Do you even know what the numbers in the codes represent, Jack?”
“No.”
“Pity. Well, I’ve brought you to the right tunnel. You’re on your own from here.”
Jack felt his stomach drop. “What?”
“The number was 25-23-115-657/PC.” Called back Ianto as he started to move away. He halted at a corner, leading away from the direction they’d both just arrived in. “Once you know what the AIC is, it’s really easy to find what you want ...” he paused before disappearing out of sight. “... if you know what you’re doing.”
Jack stood on his own outside the big wooden doors. He was fairly certain he was in one of the tunnels. Why hadn’t he counted on his way down? Moving to the middle of the tunnel, he looked up and down and tried to get his bearings. Both sides of the tunnel were exactly the same - same doors, same walls, same bland unidentifiable clones of each other. Jack turned on the spot a couple of times, craning to hear the sound of Ianto’s fading footsteps. He wouldn’t really leave him down here, would he? Was he really angry, or was he playing a game? Should he shout the safe word? Mentally, he shook himself. He had to find the location the AIC pointed to, he had to find what was there and he had to take it back to Ianto and make him proud. If he was quick enough, he might even be able to convince him that he’d known how the Index Codes worked all along ...
He froze. He’d lost count of how many times he’d managed to revolve on the spot trying to listen for Ianto’s now faded footfalls. What direction had he gone off in? What direction had they got there from? Jack stamped his foot in frustration. Why had he moved to the middle of the corridor? If he’d have stayed by that door he could have got his bearings from that ...
Something caught his eye. Above one of the doors was a number: 26. He repeated it to himself ... the first number ... that was twenty-five. Twenty-five ... then twenty-three ...
Jack decided to sit down for a couple of seconds. Wandering around probably wouldn’t help. He decided to do what Ianto would do: think about it logically. Jack decided the first number must be the number of the tunnel he needed. Ianto said he’d brought him to the right one, but there was always the chance he was testing him to make sure. Now that Jack had recognised the doors were numbered, he figured the lower numbers would lead to the beginning of the tunnel and thusly a sign declaring what tunnel he was actually in. He stood up and made a move.
Some of the doors had such a large gap in between them that Jack thought he’d gone too far and somehow missed the end, but always breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the next big planks of wood flicker into existence under the bad lighting. When he finally came to the T- junction that lead to the long corridor beyond, he couldn’t help but take a little bit of pride in at least finding the general corridor for getting out - of this level of the archives at least. Tunnel 25 ... would that be on the third level, fourth level ... even the fifth level?
Jack emerged onto the general corridor and looked up above the archway of the tunnel. “Tunnel 24” it read. Jack grinned to himself. Ianto was testing him properly. Now ... would the numbers increase or decrease if he went right? Which direction had they come from? Jack couldn’t remember. He kicked himself again. He decided that the numbers would ascend if he turned left from the tunnel entrance. If they didn’t he could always double back ...
The next tunnel was labelled “Tunnel 26”. Jack was stumped. There was no tunnel 25! Maybe he’d got it wrong ... maybe that was the right tunnel ...
“Behind you.” Said Ianto’s deep voice. “Odd numbers on the left. Like in hotels.” He was leaning, relaxed, against the wall, not six feet from Jack. Jack couldn’t believe how quietly he’d followed ... and he should have known that Ianto wouldn’t really leave him on his own in these catacombs. He could starve to death a thousand times over and still not find his way out.
“This is the left.” Said Jack.
“No. That’s your left. You left tunnel 24 the wrong way ... though it was funny seeing you stamp like a six year old when you realised you’d lost your bearings.”
Jack turned behind him. All he could see was darkness. He stepped forward, in the vain hope of it being a Labyrinth-esque optical illusion - and met nothing but cold rock. “Okay okay, where is it?”
“The doors in the tunnels are symmetrical. The entrances to them are not. You’ll have to figure out which way to go yourself. I’ll just follow you and give you disapproving looks while you struggle onwards if you like.”
“Thanks.” Said Jack sarcastically. He decided to move in the direction that lead behind Ianto. He got two paces past him and heard a tut and sigh of disapproval. Jack stopped, turned on his heel and started back the way he’d come. He heard Ianto snigger to himself.
Jack hated being in the archives. He was out of his depth. The feeling of being lost - and with someone who could help him get un-lost that was refusing to help - infuriated him. He half wished he’d torn off the AIC from Toshiko’s message. If he had, he and Ianto could be having sex now. Jack felt his body react to the thought of sex, and his heart cried out for Ianto’s lips to kiss him.
“You know,” he heard Ianto say, quite a few feet behind him. “If you don’t concentrate you might get lost ...” Jack turned back, and Ianto was again leaning against a wall. He nodded his head at a large opening in the rock opposite him. The Captain nonchalantly began making his way back. “Tunnel 25” read the sign above the entrance. Jack felt a bit of relief.
“I was trying to figure out what the next numbers in the code meant.” Offered Jack, by way of explanation.
“So you admit you’ve never once listened to me tell you what they mean?”
Jack winced slightly. He could hear disappointment rather than annoyance in Ianto’s voice.
“I know what you were thinking about. I could tell from the way you were walking.”
“What was I thinking?” asked Jack with a slight predatory smirk.
Ianto’s eyes rolled. “You were thinking about sex.”
“Wasn’t, actually.”
“You were. Then you started thinking about kissing.”
Jack grabbed him by his shoulders, held him roughly against the wall and forced him into a hard, passionate kiss.
“Forced” was the word. He’d thought at first that Ianto wasn’t going to give at all, but eventually he relented, snaking his arms around the Captain’s shoulders and gently massaging at his back. It seemed strange - Jack’s passion and desperation was somehow matched to Ianto’s calmness and deliberation, meeting somewhere in the middle.
They broke apart. “The ... next ... the next ... number ...” gasped Ianto. “The next number is the room ...”
Twenty-three, recalled Jack. He turned away from Ianto sharply, marching down the dark tunnel, practically punching the light switch on the way. The doors weren’t quite so far apart here, and door twenty-three was easily found. The DNA recognition lock admitted him and the door swung open into a long, narrow room filled with tall, grey metal shelving units. Jack felt gentle arms snake around his waist and a warm cheek press into his neck. He stroked the hair on the back of Ianto’s hands absently, considering the meaning of the next number. Obviously, the numbers would hone in on whatever it was the code directed to. Shelving units would be his next guess. Jack raised his eyes, and sure enough the shelves were numbered. He looked to his left and right - there didn’t seem to be a hundred and fifteen shelving units in there. Ianto’s exasperated sigh tickled him slightly.
“The rooms are deeper than they look.” Said Ianto, as if revealing some wondrous secret to a child. Jack hummed his annoyance, and made his way down one of the narrow corridors made by the shelving units. Each one was only about 6 feet long by a foot and half, and on each one were metal boxes that looked like computer towers. Jack stopped when he realised that each one had a name written on it. White sticky labels with Ianto’s handwriting were attached to each of them. One of the nearest said “Harriet”. Another said “Michael”. There was a “Christopher” and a “Jack” and a “Millicent”. The one named Jack had couple of lights on, and it seemed to whirr a little, like there was a cooling fan inside.
“Did you name each of these things?” asked Jack.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Respect, I suppose. They’re hard-drives. Every little scrap of information about every single Torchwood employee is stored in one of these things. It’s hooked up to the main computer system - which is semi-sentient. When an employee dies, it switches off the relevant hard-drive.”
Jack looked at what was obviously his hard-drive. He noticed a couple of others with “Jack” written on them too, but they were silent. “Why are those switched off? I can only remember one other Jack working for Torchwood, and that was in the fifties. He’ll be further along, won’t he?”
“Those are yours. The first one switched off after Abaddon - that’s why I was so convinced you weren’t coming back. Then the second one switched off while you were ... away.” Ianto gave a small laugh. “You know ... I used to sit in front of it and stare at it, willing for it to come back on.” Jack looked away. “It never did.” He finished quietly. “I had to set up a new one.”
Jack said nothing, but continued his journey, checking shelf numbers as he went. He clocked that each hard-drive had a number too. That solved the next part of the code.
Section 115 was about halfway towards the full depth of the long, narrow room. He could see that every shelf beyond it was empty, and that on one of the sections, two of the machines were whirring: “Gwen :)” and “Me”. “Toshiko :)” and “Owen Tosser Kinda alright now.” were silent.
Unit 657 was the one labelled “Me”. Ianto.
Jack stood in front of it. “What was the last bit? Of the code?”
“PC.” Said Ianto.
“What does that stand for?”
“Not sure. Could be Personal Communications ... could be Penis Cup. Won’t know until you look.”
“How do I do that?”
Ianto sighed for the millionth time. Jack’s lack of knowledge of his own archives was worse than he’d originally thought. He turned without speaking, stooped to the bottom shelf and pulled out a slim metal box. A laptop. He opened it up and put it on an empty shelf. The clickety-clack of typing seemed to fill the big, long room.
Jack watched as Ianto navigated the Torchwood mainframe, and felt a sudden rush of anger as he realised that everything in this room could probably have been accessed from his office. He could see Ianto’s smirk reflecting from the smooth, plastic screen of the computer. Ianto had known all along.
Jack stood by him and looked over his shoulder. He was typing the Archive Index Code into an Archive catalogue program that Jack had never seen before. Jack grinned as he realised that “PC” was “Personal Communications” after all ... but which one had Toshiko intended he find? He was about to voice his thoughts when he noticed that one of the subject lines was flashing.
Ianto clicked on it, and stood back.
Jack moved in front of the monitor as the page loaded. An image appeared. A photograph ... of Toshiko and Ianto. They had their arms around each other’s shoulders and were sticking their tongues out at a camera held to arms length. Under the picture was the caption “WELL, JACK ... YOU HAD TO LEARN SOMEHOW!”. Jack laughed at the joke, the picture and the exasperation he’d been feeling for the last two hours. He stopped when he heard Ianto sniff and stifle a sob.
“It was ... it was meant to be fu-funny.” He managed. “We planned it. Together. We realised ... we realised you knew nothing. Wh-wha-what would you have done? Y-y-you weren’t ...” he broke down properly, sobbing freely. Jack pulled him fully into his arms, pulling him close and feeling strong fingers cling to his blue shirt. Ianto took a couple of breaths, inhaling Jack’s scent and calming himself. “I forgot it was in those piles of papers. I forgot to hide it again. You weren’t meant ... you weren’t meant to find it un-until ...” he lost control again. Jack stayed silent, holding him tight, massaging his thumbs into Ianto’s body, waiting for him to talk.
Ianto wept a little longer, his tears soaking through to Jack’s skin. His sobs were silent now, and less pronounced, and whatever had been stored up in his emotional system was coming out. Jack felt him take a deep, steadying breath and Ianto straightened and looked him in the eye. “You weren’t meant to find it until I was dead.”
FIN
Firstly, I'm going to be changing the way I update the comms. I'll be updating my journal as and when I write, but I've been asked to write an update post every few days with links to all the parts I've done in one entry rather than seperate ones. Obviously if you've friended me, you hopefully wont be missing anything, but I'll keep all my back-links and Index updated. There's RSS too if you're dedicated LOL.
If you want to friend me, feel free. This journal is fic only, so there'll be no random "I hate my life/job/parents/signifcant other" moans here. There may be an "OMG I ACTUALLY MET RUSSELL HOWARD LAST NIGHT!" mention (oops ... there it went!!) but yeah ... fic!journal. Anyhoo, onwards and upwards (and probably outwards) ...
Apologies to frakkin-addict I did promise this part would be smutty, but it didn't feel right. I will write a grammar!fetish fic just for you, as well as dedicating this one.
FINALLY ... new layout hotness! Let me know what you think or what needs changing!
xoxox
This part was written on request (kind of) and dedicated to frakkin_addict.
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