(**) Torchwood Fic - Salvage
Title: Salvage (**)
Fandom: Torchwood
Character(s): Captain Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Genre: Gen (but you can read slash subtext if you so wish, as it is impossible to write Jack without subtext)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Doomsday, Cyberwoman and Countrycide
Word Count: 976
Summary: Just a quick, badly written ficlet exploring how Ianto Jones may have come to work for Captain Jack. I've never written TV fandom fic before so this was a new experience. I’m afraid it’s been barely edited, but I wanted to post if before the new canon came out tonight. It begins shortly after the credits roll on Torchwood, Season 1, Episode 6 - because I always wanted to see Jack worrying about the other team members there not just Gwen.
“I’ll be alright, Jack. I just want to be alone.” Gwen turned away. She was clearly not fine - she was angry and scared and hating the world but she’d dismissed him, so he went.
Jack spotted Tosh, pale and afraid, but she’d be alright - she always was. He nodded to her and she returned a weak smile. Owen was still moaning at a slightly stunned, harassed looking policeman. He should probably go and rescue the man, but as they had completely failed to notice a village of cannibals living nearby he thought he might as well let Owen take his anger out on him rather than anyone else.
He found Ianto last, sat alone, staring at the ground. It had been nearly half a year since he came to Torchwood and he was still left outside, always slightly alone. The others looked down on him, just an office boy, he was more highly trained than any of them. He’d been a full operative once.
Jack felt a twinge of guilt, this was supposed to be a treat, a vote of confidence - a chance for Ianto to go back into the field. It hadn’t worked out so well.
“How are you doing, Ianto?” He asked softly. Ianto flinched but didn’t hesitate.
“I’m fine,” he replied firmly but didn’t look up. Jack crouched in front of him, careful not to touch him.
“It’s alright to be upset, you know,” he told him, though he doubted it would make much difference. He was still struggling to make a connection, to break down the barriers between them. Ianto didn’t react so he tried again.
“It’s horrible in there and…”
“I’ve been in worse places, Sir,” Ianto looked up at last. His eyes were wide and deep. Yes you have, Jack thought. He remembered Canary Wharf. The horror of it. And he remembered Ianto.
* * * * *
Jack tried to focus on UNIT’s report, but his eyes drifted back to the list of the dead. Rose Tyler. There was a blank place in his mind where grief should have been. It didn’t feel real.
He’d gone to see her, more than once. Always keeping just out of sight, enjoying her life and her energy. If he’d known, he would have… he didn’t know. But he’d have done something.
He forced his eyes back on the report. Only a handful of people had survived the Cyberman attack and UNIT had spent the last few days assessing them - tests and interviews and psychic studies. This one was for a Ianto Jones, worked at Torchwood for three years, been a field operative for the last year - clever, resourceful - handpicked straight out of university. The report said the same as the others - “Highly traumatised, emotionally unstable. Unsuitable for further field work. Retcon recommended."
It was an unexpected deference that they were letting him make the final decision. The survivors were waiting outside. He should finish this - should already have finished. It was unfair to keep them waiting for their final judgement. He carefully folded the list of the dead and put it in his pocket.
He had almost finished filling in the retcon form when the door burst open. There was a young man in the doorway, slightly out of breath. Cute. One of the UNIT operatives was stood behind him, with a strange look of anger and apology on his face.
“I’m sorry sir? I couldn’t stop him.”
“You’re going to retcon us? I heard them outside, they said you’re going to retcon us,” the voice was Welsh. Cute, Welsh and angry.
“You must be Ianto Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Jones,” he stood quickly, waved the other man out and offered Ianto his hand. Ianto ignored it.
“Well?” He demanded and Jack sighed, people would never be distracted. Perhaps it would be easier to get straight to the point.
“Retcon has been recommended, yes, there’s nothing else…”
“You can’t do that to me,” Ianto interrupted.
“Actually we can,” Jack replied smoothly, “when you signed your contract with Torchwood you agreed to be retconned following a termination of the contract.” There was a pause then. Ianto just stared at him, shaking.
“It’s not fair,” he said at last, his voice quiet.
“It’s what you agreed to.”
“But this is all I have… had. My girlfriend…” He was close to tears. “My girlfriend died here and I only knew who through Torchwood - we met here. If you retcon me, then I won’t even remember her.”
“Wouldn’t that be easier?” Jack asked, wanting to turn away but not able to. He saw a flash of blonde hair, a familiar smile. “It would hurt less.”
“But I wouldn’t have anything of her left. I need her.”
Jack turned to look out the window, at the smoking remnants of London below. He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. They stood, uncomfortably silent, for a while.
“Can’t you imagine it? Waking up one day and not remembering three years of your life?” Ianto asked him and Jack didn’t need to imagine it, he knew exactly how that felt. He turned back to him.
“What other options do we have?” He asked.
“Let me work for you.”
“You’d have to move to Cardiff.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“And it would mean a demotion,” Jack gestured at the paperwork, “They don’t want you out in the field.”
“That’s fine,” he didn’t even hesitate - he should have hesitated, this was a big decision. He was obviously desperate. But Jack hesitated, he wasn’t sure, something tasted wrong here. But the man was desperate - cute and Welsh and desperate and obviously hurting - and for once maybe Jack could help, could give the right answer.
“Welcome to Torchwood, Mr Jones,” he held out his hand again. Ianto took it.
“It will be a pleasure working for you, Sir.”
Fandom: Torchwood
Character(s): Captain Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones
Genre: Gen (but you can read slash subtext if you so wish, as it is impossible to write Jack without subtext)
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Doomsday, Cyberwoman and Countrycide
Word Count: 976
Summary: Just a quick, badly written ficlet exploring how Ianto Jones may have come to work for Captain Jack. I've never written TV fandom fic before so this was a new experience. I’m afraid it’s been barely edited, but I wanted to post if before the new canon came out tonight. It begins shortly after the credits roll on Torchwood, Season 1, Episode 6 - because I always wanted to see Jack worrying about the other team members there not just Gwen.
“I’ll be alright, Jack. I just want to be alone.” Gwen turned away. She was clearly not fine - she was angry and scared and hating the world but she’d dismissed him, so he went.
Jack spotted Tosh, pale and afraid, but she’d be alright - she always was. He nodded to her and she returned a weak smile. Owen was still moaning at a slightly stunned, harassed looking policeman. He should probably go and rescue the man, but as they had completely failed to notice a village of cannibals living nearby he thought he might as well let Owen take his anger out on him rather than anyone else.
He found Ianto last, sat alone, staring at the ground. It had been nearly half a year since he came to Torchwood and he was still left outside, always slightly alone. The others looked down on him, just an office boy, he was more highly trained than any of them. He’d been a full operative once.
Jack felt a twinge of guilt, this was supposed to be a treat, a vote of confidence - a chance for Ianto to go back into the field. It hadn’t worked out so well.
“How are you doing, Ianto?” He asked softly. Ianto flinched but didn’t hesitate.
“I’m fine,” he replied firmly but didn’t look up. Jack crouched in front of him, careful not to touch him.
“It’s alright to be upset, you know,” he told him, though he doubted it would make much difference. He was still struggling to make a connection, to break down the barriers between them. Ianto didn’t react so he tried again.
“It’s horrible in there and…”
“I’ve been in worse places, Sir,” Ianto looked up at last. His eyes were wide and deep. Yes you have, Jack thought. He remembered Canary Wharf. The horror of it. And he remembered Ianto.
* * * * *
Jack tried to focus on UNIT’s report, but his eyes drifted back to the list of the dead. Rose Tyler. There was a blank place in his mind where grief should have been. It didn’t feel real.
He’d gone to see her, more than once. Always keeping just out of sight, enjoying her life and her energy. If he’d known, he would have… he didn’t know. But he’d have done something.
He forced his eyes back on the report. Only a handful of people had survived the Cyberman attack and UNIT had spent the last few days assessing them - tests and interviews and psychic studies. This one was for a Ianto Jones, worked at Torchwood for three years, been a field operative for the last year - clever, resourceful - handpicked straight out of university. The report said the same as the others - “Highly traumatised, emotionally unstable. Unsuitable for further field work. Retcon recommended."
It was an unexpected deference that they were letting him make the final decision. The survivors were waiting outside. He should finish this - should already have finished. It was unfair to keep them waiting for their final judgement. He carefully folded the list of the dead and put it in his pocket.
He had almost finished filling in the retcon form when the door burst open. There was a young man in the doorway, slightly out of breath. Cute. One of the UNIT operatives was stood behind him, with a strange look of anger and apology on his face.
“I’m sorry sir? I couldn’t stop him.”
“You’re going to retcon us? I heard them outside, they said you’re going to retcon us,” the voice was Welsh. Cute, Welsh and angry.
“You must be Ianto Jones, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Jones,” he stood quickly, waved the other man out and offered Ianto his hand. Ianto ignored it.
“Well?” He demanded and Jack sighed, people would never be distracted. Perhaps it would be easier to get straight to the point.
“Retcon has been recommended, yes, there’s nothing else…”
“You can’t do that to me,” Ianto interrupted.
“Actually we can,” Jack replied smoothly, “when you signed your contract with Torchwood you agreed to be retconned following a termination of the contract.” There was a pause then. Ianto just stared at him, shaking.
“It’s not fair,” he said at last, his voice quiet.
“It’s what you agreed to.”
“But this is all I have… had. My girlfriend…” He was close to tears. “My girlfriend died here and I only knew who through Torchwood - we met here. If you retcon me, then I won’t even remember her.”
“Wouldn’t that be easier?” Jack asked, wanting to turn away but not able to. He saw a flash of blonde hair, a familiar smile. “It would hurt less.”
“But I wouldn’t have anything of her left. I need her.”
Jack turned to look out the window, at the smoking remnants of London below. He didn’t say anything, there wasn’t anything to say. They stood, uncomfortably silent, for a while.
“Can’t you imagine it? Waking up one day and not remembering three years of your life?” Ianto asked him and Jack didn’t need to imagine it, he knew exactly how that felt. He turned back to him.
“What other options do we have?” He asked.
“Let me work for you.”
“You’d have to move to Cardiff.”
“That’s not a problem.”
“And it would mean a demotion,” Jack gestured at the paperwork, “They don’t want you out in the field.”
“That’s fine,” he didn’t even hesitate - he should have hesitated, this was a big decision. He was obviously desperate. But Jack hesitated, he wasn’t sure, something tasted wrong here. But the man was desperate - cute and Welsh and desperate and obviously hurting - and for once maybe Jack could help, could give the right answer.
“Welcome to Torchwood, Mr Jones,” he held out his hand again. Ianto took it.
“It will be a pleasure working for you, Sir.”