Jack and Ianto private archives, season -1 - 14/19
It had begun with the attempt to put the team back together. The method was an improved one in team management, nothing more. Take the band out of their usual ground to make them reunite. He had an opportunity; people were disappearing and the police couldn’t get a clue on what was going on.
Lately the Hub atmosphere had been charged with even more stress than usual, if that was possible. Suzie playing serial killer behind their backs and her violent death had already been a trauma. Gwen’s arrival was not yet completely accepted to everyone. Then Ianto’s betrayal, because all of them had felt deceived, used. And cherry on the top, the fairies failure. In the end, they were all his failures because he was the boss. Or at least, that was what his team was thinking, and that was not good. Not good for the team, not good for his leadership either.
Jack was okay with the choices and decisions he had made. He had made some errors, but he was human, he had done his best and would continue to do so.
Jack took the gun out of the locker and checked it. It needed to be cleaned. He collected everything he needed and settled to work on it on his own desk.
The cog door alarm announced Owen.
“Hi, what’s brought you here on a shiny Sunday?” Jack asked.
“And you? How is it you’re not brooding on some roof top? That’s what you do when you’ve got nothing else going on.”
“I had something else to do. What about you?”
“Just something bothering me about my last autopsy. I wanted to check...”
“On the first quiet Sunday we had for months?” Jack asked baffled.
“Oi. It wasn’t me hiding cybergirls in your basement, Jack.”
“Not girls, but girl friend, Owen.”
“Like it makes a difference?”
“It does. And you better than anyone here knows that.” Jack cut him off, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to tear apart your nice little bastard disguise.”
“That’s not your gun.” Owen pointed out to change of topic of discussion.
“It’s Ianto’s.”
“Now you’re cleaning his gun? And why does he even have a gun? That’s not even one of ours.” Owen snapped.
“I believe he must have picked it up during the battle at Canary Wharf. The right question would be can he handle it? Don’t you think so?”
“Why did you hire him Jack? Really? Why didn’t you tell me about him being a Canary wharf survivor?”
“Because you loathed the Mother House even more than me and I feared it would alter your judgement.”
“If you doubt my professionalism, fire me.”
“Owen.”
“Being my boss doesn’t mean you can insult me, Jack.” Owen spat. He was furious.
“I was not insulting you, just trying to be honest.” Jack replied, but Owen was already on his way out forgetting why he had come in the first place.
Jack picked his phone and called Ianto.
“Hi. How you’re doing... with the boxes? Getting to the bottom? Oh. Yeah. Don’t worry. About tomorrow, I want you to come earlier and trade your suit for a more convenient outfit, jeans, ranger’s shoes... Yeah, I’m taking the whole team on camp out... Of course. I need someone for logistic. Five in the morning.”
Ianto was there at five. Jack had everything packed and ready; Ianto would only have to check to make sure Jack hadn’t forgotten anything. And there was something else Jack wanted to check with Ianto before the others arrived.
When Jack came back from the car park he was greeted with a nice cup of hot coffee and a mints box.
“Thanks. But what...”
“Miss Tyler’s chain, sir. I thought you would want to keep it.”
The chain and medal were nicely lying on a piece of cotton in the little mint box.
“Tha... Thank you Ianto. Thank you.” Jack said, voice threatening to fail him.
The Captain went to open the top drawer of his desk. He took a tin box out of it. Among old pictures and other little souvenirs, he found another chain with the other half heart. He gently rubbed the surface of the old piece with his thumb before lying it with the other part in Ianto’s mint box. He put the small box in his tin box and everything back in the drawer.
“Ianto. With me.” Jack said, abruptly beckoning the young man to follow him to the fire range room.
“Is there a problem, sir?” Ianto asked when he realised where the Captain was taking him.
“No. I’m taking you out in the field. I just want to make sure you can handle a gun.” he replied, handing the gun to Ianto.
Ianto took it, hefted it and then checked it.
“It had been cleaned.”
“It was needed,” Jack answered. “That’s not just any weapon...” he added, conversationally, fishing for Ianto’s reactions. Ianto must have known Jack couldn’t ignore what kind of men used to wear that sort of weapon at Torchwood London branch.
“I can handle and fire a gun, sir. Even if I loathe firearms. This one belonged to Mc Dahl, one of Yvonne’s gunmen.”
“You call her Yvonne.”
It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement and Ianto didn’t comment waiting for Jack or to push or to drop. Later perhaps.
Jack had Ianto ready to shoot; he came to help him with the ears protectors but before he adjusted on Ianto’s ears he got purposely closer to the young man than a conventional boss would have.
“Don’t get me wrong, Ianto, you’re getting to the bottom of my patience,” he whispered softly but a menacing under tone. “Don’t even think of deceiving me once more. I do want to know what you are capable of here.”
And Ianto showed him, and what a show it had been.
“Are you sure you weren’t a gunman?” Jack asked out of surprise.
Ianto didn’t answered he just reload his gun conscientiously.
“You see, if I refer to UNIT, the guy who identified the victims, some Jones, was from the staff department. My sources say you were junior researcher. But more I look at you and more I think you don’t fit the profile.”
“Thomas Jones.” Ianto replied, flatly.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Thomas Jones, twenty-three years old, was working for the staff department; I believe he must have been converted; he wasn’t among those who could be identified.”
“Guess what? I’m more interested about a Ianto Jones.”
“I was one of her personal assistants, attending to coffee, sorting mail, dry-cleaning, that sort of things. Pretty much what you hired me for. Excepted for cleaning my colleagues’ mess.”
“A personal assistant who can memorize over 1500 staff files? Did she know that?”
“ 1638, sir. If she had had a mere hint about it, sir, you would have found my body in one of the freak vault.”
To be continued. First chapter here and Master list here