Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 18/40 Act 1/4)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: het, graphic violence
Notes For This Chapter: it's not necessary, but please note there are parallels to TW's "Fragments" and "Everything Changes". No spoilers, but history and ages are based and parallel the episodes.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 18 - "Everything Changes"
Cardiff, 2007
Three months later…
Act I
It was yet another file cabinet, yet another "G" to "I" section no one goes to.
Ianto waved a hand in the air, making a face at the dust mites that flew when he fought with the cabinet, trying to pull out some manila folders that were stuck on something sticky. He wasn't sure who won, said folders in his hand or the cabinets that vomited dust purely out of spite he suspected.
"Good lord, you still here, Jones?"
Ianto swallowed a sigh, schooled a more pleasant face-dust always put him in an unpleasant mood-and turned to look at Torchwood's second-in-command Suzie Costello peering down the hole which he descended through to get to the archives.
"I thought our captain didn't want you down in the bowels of Torchwood Three alone. Never know what kind of beasties might be lurking down there." When she smiled, Suzie looked quite young. Even pretty.
She didn't smile often.
Ianto coughed behind an elbow and waved his spoils. "Does no one follow the alphabet anymore? It's taken me far longer than I expected to reorganize this," Ianto complained with no rancor. "This should go under 'J' not under 'G'. Is someone going phonetically?"
"Well, Harper believes in the 'within reach' filing system," Costello smirked and stood, stepping back so Ianto could climb up the ladder to the receptionist desk.
A quick look confirmed she was dressed to leave, her coat tied shut around her waist, her enormous brown leather handbag-it was large enough to carry a Weevil babe-on her shoulder. Ianto looked at the clock. It had just turned twenty two hundred.
"Early night?" Ianto asked innocently as he started to pry the rescued folders apart.
"Early morning," Costello corrected. "We have that meeting tomorrow early."
Suzie Costello was nice enough to him. She was polite and never left a mess like the doctor. In fact, she was very insistent in cleaning up after herself in her work area. Ianto frowned ruefully at the time himself. Ianto could never understand why her smile grated at him.
Costello yawned as she pulled out her wristwatch and strapped it over a delicate pale wrist.
"And I could never sleep down there. All elbows and knees, he is. Thought I might as well have some winks in my own bed. Far nicer. Quality mattress." She looked like a cat that had just devoured the sparrow it stalked.
Oh yes. That's why.
Ianto gave her a polite smile that faded to a more sincere groan when he glanced at the wall clock. "I should think about getting home myself," he muttered. One more check in the vaults first.
"Night then, Jones." Costello waved lazily over her shoulder as she walked out.
Ianto watched her leave, shook his head, then locked up behind her before climbing down the ladder again.
The vaults were in worse condition than the archives. It was a labyrinth of thick metal green wall vaults; some with bars like old style jail cells, others with impenetrable doors, and some with dials, wheels and cogs for locks. The Bank of England's vaults weren't this secure.
Apparently, most of Torchwood Three before Ianto arrived also believed and followed quite religiously Dr. Harper's dubious filing system. No one dared to come down here. It looked like the chaos started well before the previous leader, Alex Hopkins, started. No one knew where to look for anything and despite Harkness' reluctance, Ianto was more than happy to volunteer taking on reorganizing the tombs below the Hub.
Good Lord.
First off, he couldn't even enter some of the corridors. Crates transferred from London sat idle at every turn. Other crates were pried open, then left where they lay with rusty crowbars. There was no logic, no reason for…for anything.
It was better now, things stored away to be sorted later. And Ianto had set up some of the rooms, prepped the wiring and planned where everything would go. He found everything he needed down in the vaults. There were days he found himself taking a quiet nap in one of the cleaned vaults rather than drive back to his loft. It had many unpacked crates as well, but looking at them merely depressed him and the idea of going through his old life in those boxes kept him awake all night. It wasn't the only reason Ianto found sleep elusive these days, though.
Ianto was sure he only needed a few more months down here. Everything was in order. Everything that should work did work. All that was left was…
He shook his head as he turned the corner to a coppery wall corridor he'd discovered wasn't even on Torchwood's blueprints. He didn't think about where he was going. He knew the way by heart.
The flashlight in his hand-not all the lights worked yet-flickered as he approached the end of the corridor, but Ianto wasn't too concerned. He could find his way out blindfolded and despite what Costello suggested there were no monsters down here lurking about. Absolutely none.
Ianto inspected the vaults on the copper corridor, flicked a couple of switches, and lingered until the silence proved too much. Then, he walked back down the maze of metal doors and dank corridors, checking every vault. Just in case.
The vaults towards the front stairs that led up to the central area were emptied and still smelled of fresh paint. He had puzzled over some that were furnished with cots and sinks yet were currently unoccupied. Prisoners? Certainly couldn't have been for the Weevils residing in their newer cells although the vault walls were peppered with what looked like claw marks. He'd even found a fingernail embedded in the concrete while he was patching the uneven spots. God.
They had smelled of human neglect and despair. Ianto spent weeks trying to get the smell out; bleach and a bucket of warm detergent water proved successful in removing most of the stench. The Captain had protested but begrudgingly allowed Ianto his project. Ianto found it oddly endearing when he showed up once with his sleeves rolled up to help.
Ianto shone his flashlight back down where he had come before climbing the steps to the central area.
The lights were dimmed but not completely dark. Ianto was able to navigate around the often odd layout of the Hub using the squares of light left from everyone's screensavers on their terminals. That plus the light beaming out of the office on the main floor was enough.
Ianto paused from his cleaning by Toshiko's station. He stared at the office. None of his business. He was his employer now. Besides, it was obvious from Costello's insinuations that they were doing…something.
He is the Doctor's companion, he thought in a rare mean moment. But the second it appeared in his mind, Ianto grimaced to himself. He lowered his garbage bag and steered for the office. He knocked-just in case and he really didn't need the image he might get-and strode in.
"Sir, I'm just finishing up and I would like to ass…" Ianto trailed off into a squeak. Damn it, why was he always finding himself in these situations?
Captain Jack Harkness was not sitting behind his desk as Ianto thought/assumed/hoped. Rather, he was by the side of it, between the desk and the manhole that led to some sort of barrack. Harkness was on his hands and knees, staring intently at the ground, giving Ianto a very nice view of his arse.
Be glad he's clothed this time. Be glad he's clothed this time, Ianto thought and tore his eyes away from the firm curved buttocks wiggling-Good Lord-as Harkness was doing whatever he was doing. Perhaps driving Ianto mad? Yes, that was probably it. He shouldn't-
Stop ogling over a man's arse!
"Sir!" Ianto squawked, more because his mind went screaming, "Stop bloody looking!"
"Hm?" Harkness looked over his shoulder and it turned out he was carrying a stitching needle between his lips.
"What are you doing?" Besides trying to send Ianto into a confused fit?
The captain spat out the needle into his hand and stretched over to put it on top of his desk. "Button?" he grumbled before his head dipped down again.
"P-pardon?"
"My coat." Harkness waved towards the greatcoat folded over his chair. "I was going to fix it. That last Weevil tore it off. Probably thought it was candy. But it rolled off and now I can't find it." There was a hint of panic in his voice. "I doubt RAF coats from the forties are still in fashion and I don't have any spare buttons and, damn it, where is it?"
It would have been amusing if it weren't for the fact Harkness' search was doing all sorts of interesting things to the captain's firm, pert, clearly muscled, taut-
"I'll help you look!" Ianto volunteered hastily, looking away and going to the far side of the room. He made a point of looking on the ground, on his knees, until he spied a round, wooden circle, with its frayed thread still attached. "Found it!" Ianto declared.
"Really?"
Thump! In the captain's excitement, he forgot he was under his desk and struck it hard. The folders and thick sheaths of paper on top cascaded to a messy pile on the ground.
Ianto stood there, holding the button, staring at Harkness' boots sticking out from under the desk.
"You alright?"
"Yes."
Ianto ran his tongue across his lower lip. "Then…why are you still under the desk?"
"Because I don't want to see ten hours of my paperwork on the floor."
Ianto winced. "I uh…found your button, sir."
"Jack."
"What?"
"You've been here three months; I think you can call me Jack by now."
"You're my boss."
"I call you Ianto," Harkness pointed out, not convincingly though as his…other assets were distracting Ianto.
"You're my boss." Ianto repeated and turned his head to consider the legs under the desk. Rather long legs. Lean yet muscul-
"Aren't you going to come out from under your desk?"
"No."
Ianto bit back the smile at the petulant tone. "But I found your button."
"I'm scared."
Now, the grin couldn't be suppressed. "I hardly believe that of a time traveler who came out of a police box."
"See? I'm used to tight places. I'm fine down here."
"It's not that bad. Really."
"You're lying to me."
Ianto's grin faded. "Not about this," he said more seriously. Then, he forced on a lighter tone. "This is hardly becoming of our captain, sir. It's rather undignified."
Sighing, Harkness shuffled, wiggling backwards until his head popped out. Ianto bit his lower lip, swallowing back a chuckle at the messy locks wildly crowning Harkness.
The captain peered around the desk and groaned. He glowered up at Ianto.
"I thought you said it wasn't bad."
"It isn’t," Ianto assured. "They fell in a pattern. We can easily retrace where they were." Ianto pocketed the button so they wouldn't lose it and crouched down to the pile.
Harkness groaned, throwing his hands up. "Don't you people have a landfill crisis this century? What's with all this paper?"
Bemused, Ianto just shuffled the stacks in order. "It's just the backlog from when Hopkins was in charge. I could get these sorted out easily."
"You don't have to do that."
"It's alright."
"You…" Harkness sounded embarrassed. "You really shouldn't have to be doing that."
Balancing the stack in his arms, Ianto looked up. "Oh. Sorry. Not within my clearance?"
"No, no. I just…" Harkness waved at the mess helplessly. "Wasn't this just what you were doing…before?"
Ianto shrugged as he straightened and set the stacks on the desk. "I don't mind."
"But I do."
Surprised, Ianto stopped. Harkness looked at him seriously.
"Suzie's been telling me you were down by the vaults again; that you spend most of your time down in the archives."
Ianto frowned. "But that's what I was doing before."
"Exactly." Harkness sat down wearily on his chair. "I didn't hire you to be down in the archives all day."
A sliver of fear coiled in his throat. "Am I being fired then?"
"What? No! I…" Harkness sighed and sat back on his chair.
"I got a call about Lorrie Guevard this morning. Tosh said you got the same call."
Ianto felt very old all of the sudden. He sank into the nearby chair. "Ah."
"She was the last one, wasn't she?" Harkness' voice was soft, too soft with understanding. Ianto couldn't bear it. He could only nod.
"Sorry. I heard she was a friend of…" Harkness paused and Ianto was utterly grateful he never finished.
"Yes," Ianto rasped. "Best friends. She was the one who got L-her out before so they took her instead and started the conversion." He looked away. His eyes burned. "They did nothing. Just kept them under until their bodies simply couldn't take it anymore."
"Once the conversion started," Harkness said quietly, "their bodies became reliant on the cybertronics built into them. There wasn’t anything else anyone could do."
"They could have tried harder," Ianto said in a hard voice. It was absolutely unforgivable.
Harkness sighed. "You see? I didn't want you hiding down in the basement because of this."
Ianto understood. He smiled faintly. "Thank you, but frankly, you did hire me as a receptionist."
Harkness' blue eyes were glued to him. "I think you could be a lot more, Ianto Jones."
Taken aback, Ianto didn't have a response. He blinked. Looking away, Ianto cleared his throat.
"Yes, well, let me take a look at that coat of yours."
"You don't have to-"
Ianto waved him off. "I would do a far better job than you can, sir." He went behind the desk, tapping Harkness on the shoulder, signaling him to move. Harkness obliged by leaning forward enough for Ianto to tug the coat free. "You do your files and I'll get this done for you in a few minutes."
"I didn't hire you to be a butler, either."
Ianto arched an eyebrow down towards him and fingered Harkness' collar. "Excuse me, is that dried egg on your shirt?"
Laughing, Harkness looked up. "It was a busy week!" He froze.
Ianto became aware he was standing unbelievably close with one hand feeling the crisp, starched cotton and the other resting against Harkness' jaw. The captain's head brushed against his torso. And his eyes, they were dark, fathomless, blue, so blue, like the electric gleam of a Cyber-
Ianto jerked back. "Yes, well, I'll be right back."
Harkness sounded almost disappointed. "I'll be here."
He always was. Ianto didn't think about it. Clutching the coat harder than he should if he cared to think about it, Ianto escaped the office. He was done with the button in five minutes, roamed the vaults with it for another thirty before he went back to his flat and laid awake on his bed until dawn came. He didn't even realize he had bought the coat home with him.
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: het, graphic violence
Notes For This Chapter: it's not necessary, but please note there are parallels to TW's "Fragments" and "Everything Changes". No spoilers, but history and ages are based and parallel the episodes.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 18 - "Everything Changes"
Cardiff, 2007
Three months later…
Act I
It was yet another file cabinet, yet another "G" to "I" section no one goes to.
Ianto waved a hand in the air, making a face at the dust mites that flew when he fought with the cabinet, trying to pull out some manila folders that were stuck on something sticky. He wasn't sure who won, said folders in his hand or the cabinets that vomited dust purely out of spite he suspected.
"Good lord, you still here, Jones?"
Ianto swallowed a sigh, schooled a more pleasant face-dust always put him in an unpleasant mood-and turned to look at Torchwood's second-in-command Suzie Costello peering down the hole which he descended through to get to the archives.
"I thought our captain didn't want you down in the bowels of Torchwood Three alone. Never know what kind of beasties might be lurking down there." When she smiled, Suzie looked quite young. Even pretty.
She didn't smile often.
Ianto coughed behind an elbow and waved his spoils. "Does no one follow the alphabet anymore? It's taken me far longer than I expected to reorganize this," Ianto complained with no rancor. "This should go under 'J' not under 'G'. Is someone going phonetically?"
"Well, Harper believes in the 'within reach' filing system," Costello smirked and stood, stepping back so Ianto could climb up the ladder to the receptionist desk.
A quick look confirmed she was dressed to leave, her coat tied shut around her waist, her enormous brown leather handbag-it was large enough to carry a Weevil babe-on her shoulder. Ianto looked at the clock. It had just turned twenty two hundred.
"Early night?" Ianto asked innocently as he started to pry the rescued folders apart.
"Early morning," Costello corrected. "We have that meeting tomorrow early."
Suzie Costello was nice enough to him. She was polite and never left a mess like the doctor. In fact, she was very insistent in cleaning up after herself in her work area. Ianto frowned ruefully at the time himself. Ianto could never understand why her smile grated at him.
Costello yawned as she pulled out her wristwatch and strapped it over a delicate pale wrist.
"And I could never sleep down there. All elbows and knees, he is. Thought I might as well have some winks in my own bed. Far nicer. Quality mattress." She looked like a cat that had just devoured the sparrow it stalked.
Oh yes. That's why.
Ianto gave her a polite smile that faded to a more sincere groan when he glanced at the wall clock. "I should think about getting home myself," he muttered. One more check in the vaults first.
"Night then, Jones." Costello waved lazily over her shoulder as she walked out.
Ianto watched her leave, shook his head, then locked up behind her before climbing down the ladder again.
The vaults were in worse condition than the archives. It was a labyrinth of thick metal green wall vaults; some with bars like old style jail cells, others with impenetrable doors, and some with dials, wheels and cogs for locks. The Bank of England's vaults weren't this secure.
Apparently, most of Torchwood Three before Ianto arrived also believed and followed quite religiously Dr. Harper's dubious filing system. No one dared to come down here. It looked like the chaos started well before the previous leader, Alex Hopkins, started. No one knew where to look for anything and despite Harkness' reluctance, Ianto was more than happy to volunteer taking on reorganizing the tombs below the Hub.
Good Lord.
First off, he couldn't even enter some of the corridors. Crates transferred from London sat idle at every turn. Other crates were pried open, then left where they lay with rusty crowbars. There was no logic, no reason for…for anything.
It was better now, things stored away to be sorted later. And Ianto had set up some of the rooms, prepped the wiring and planned where everything would go. He found everything he needed down in the vaults. There were days he found himself taking a quiet nap in one of the cleaned vaults rather than drive back to his loft. It had many unpacked crates as well, but looking at them merely depressed him and the idea of going through his old life in those boxes kept him awake all night. It wasn't the only reason Ianto found sleep elusive these days, though.
Ianto was sure he only needed a few more months down here. Everything was in order. Everything that should work did work. All that was left was…
He shook his head as he turned the corner to a coppery wall corridor he'd discovered wasn't even on Torchwood's blueprints. He didn't think about where he was going. He knew the way by heart.
The flashlight in his hand-not all the lights worked yet-flickered as he approached the end of the corridor, but Ianto wasn't too concerned. He could find his way out blindfolded and despite what Costello suggested there were no monsters down here lurking about. Absolutely none.
Ianto inspected the vaults on the copper corridor, flicked a couple of switches, and lingered until the silence proved too much. Then, he walked back down the maze of metal doors and dank corridors, checking every vault. Just in case.
The vaults towards the front stairs that led up to the central area were emptied and still smelled of fresh paint. He had puzzled over some that were furnished with cots and sinks yet were currently unoccupied. Prisoners? Certainly couldn't have been for the Weevils residing in their newer cells although the vault walls were peppered with what looked like claw marks. He'd even found a fingernail embedded in the concrete while he was patching the uneven spots. God.
They had smelled of human neglect and despair. Ianto spent weeks trying to get the smell out; bleach and a bucket of warm detergent water proved successful in removing most of the stench. The Captain had protested but begrudgingly allowed Ianto his project. Ianto found it oddly endearing when he showed up once with his sleeves rolled up to help.
Ianto shone his flashlight back down where he had come before climbing the steps to the central area.
The lights were dimmed but not completely dark. Ianto was able to navigate around the often odd layout of the Hub using the squares of light left from everyone's screensavers on their terminals. That plus the light beaming out of the office on the main floor was enough.
Ianto paused from his cleaning by Toshiko's station. He stared at the office. None of his business. He was his employer now. Besides, it was obvious from Costello's insinuations that they were doing…something.
He is the Doctor's companion, he thought in a rare mean moment. But the second it appeared in his mind, Ianto grimaced to himself. He lowered his garbage bag and steered for the office. He knocked-just in case and he really didn't need the image he might get-and strode in.
"Sir, I'm just finishing up and I would like to ass…" Ianto trailed off into a squeak. Damn it, why was he always finding himself in these situations?
Captain Jack Harkness was not sitting behind his desk as Ianto thought/assumed/hoped. Rather, he was by the side of it, between the desk and the manhole that led to some sort of barrack. Harkness was on his hands and knees, staring intently at the ground, giving Ianto a very nice view of his arse.
Be glad he's clothed this time. Be glad he's clothed this time, Ianto thought and tore his eyes away from the firm curved buttocks wiggling-Good Lord-as Harkness was doing whatever he was doing. Perhaps driving Ianto mad? Yes, that was probably it. He shouldn't-
Stop ogling over a man's arse!
"Sir!" Ianto squawked, more because his mind went screaming, "Stop bloody looking!"
"Hm?" Harkness looked over his shoulder and it turned out he was carrying a stitching needle between his lips.
"What are you doing?" Besides trying to send Ianto into a confused fit?
The captain spat out the needle into his hand and stretched over to put it on top of his desk. "Button?" he grumbled before his head dipped down again.
"P-pardon?"
"My coat." Harkness waved towards the greatcoat folded over his chair. "I was going to fix it. That last Weevil tore it off. Probably thought it was candy. But it rolled off and now I can't find it." There was a hint of panic in his voice. "I doubt RAF coats from the forties are still in fashion and I don't have any spare buttons and, damn it, where is it?"
It would have been amusing if it weren't for the fact Harkness' search was doing all sorts of interesting things to the captain's firm, pert, clearly muscled, taut-
"I'll help you look!" Ianto volunteered hastily, looking away and going to the far side of the room. He made a point of looking on the ground, on his knees, until he spied a round, wooden circle, with its frayed thread still attached. "Found it!" Ianto declared.
"Really?"
Thump! In the captain's excitement, he forgot he was under his desk and struck it hard. The folders and thick sheaths of paper on top cascaded to a messy pile on the ground.
Ianto stood there, holding the button, staring at Harkness' boots sticking out from under the desk.
"You alright?"
"Yes."
Ianto ran his tongue across his lower lip. "Then…why are you still under the desk?"
"Because I don't want to see ten hours of my paperwork on the floor."
Ianto winced. "I uh…found your button, sir."
"Jack."
"What?"
"You've been here three months; I think you can call me Jack by now."
"You're my boss."
"I call you Ianto," Harkness pointed out, not convincingly though as his…other assets were distracting Ianto.
"You're my boss." Ianto repeated and turned his head to consider the legs under the desk. Rather long legs. Lean yet muscul-
"Aren't you going to come out from under your desk?"
"No."
Ianto bit back the smile at the petulant tone. "But I found your button."
"I'm scared."
Now, the grin couldn't be suppressed. "I hardly believe that of a time traveler who came out of a police box."
"See? I'm used to tight places. I'm fine down here."
"It's not that bad. Really."
"You're lying to me."
Ianto's grin faded. "Not about this," he said more seriously. Then, he forced on a lighter tone. "This is hardly becoming of our captain, sir. It's rather undignified."
Sighing, Harkness shuffled, wiggling backwards until his head popped out. Ianto bit his lower lip, swallowing back a chuckle at the messy locks wildly crowning Harkness.
The captain peered around the desk and groaned. He glowered up at Ianto.
"I thought you said it wasn't bad."
"It isn’t," Ianto assured. "They fell in a pattern. We can easily retrace where they were." Ianto pocketed the button so they wouldn't lose it and crouched down to the pile.
Harkness groaned, throwing his hands up. "Don't you people have a landfill crisis this century? What's with all this paper?"
Bemused, Ianto just shuffled the stacks in order. "It's just the backlog from when Hopkins was in charge. I could get these sorted out easily."
"You don't have to do that."
"It's alright."
"You…" Harkness sounded embarrassed. "You really shouldn't have to be doing that."
Balancing the stack in his arms, Ianto looked up. "Oh. Sorry. Not within my clearance?"
"No, no. I just…" Harkness waved at the mess helplessly. "Wasn't this just what you were doing…before?"
Ianto shrugged as he straightened and set the stacks on the desk. "I don't mind."
"But I do."
Surprised, Ianto stopped. Harkness looked at him seriously.
"Suzie's been telling me you were down by the vaults again; that you spend most of your time down in the archives."
Ianto frowned. "But that's what I was doing before."
"Exactly." Harkness sat down wearily on his chair. "I didn't hire you to be down in the archives all day."
A sliver of fear coiled in his throat. "Am I being fired then?"
"What? No! I…" Harkness sighed and sat back on his chair.
"I got a call about Lorrie Guevard this morning. Tosh said you got the same call."
Ianto felt very old all of the sudden. He sank into the nearby chair. "Ah."
"She was the last one, wasn't she?" Harkness' voice was soft, too soft with understanding. Ianto couldn't bear it. He could only nod.
"Sorry. I heard she was a friend of…" Harkness paused and Ianto was utterly grateful he never finished.
"Yes," Ianto rasped. "Best friends. She was the one who got L-her out before so they took her instead and started the conversion." He looked away. His eyes burned. "They did nothing. Just kept them under until their bodies simply couldn't take it anymore."
"Once the conversion started," Harkness said quietly, "their bodies became reliant on the cybertronics built into them. There wasn’t anything else anyone could do."
"They could have tried harder," Ianto said in a hard voice. It was absolutely unforgivable.
Harkness sighed. "You see? I didn't want you hiding down in the basement because of this."
Ianto understood. He smiled faintly. "Thank you, but frankly, you did hire me as a receptionist."
Harkness' blue eyes were glued to him. "I think you could be a lot more, Ianto Jones."
Taken aback, Ianto didn't have a response. He blinked. Looking away, Ianto cleared his throat.
"Yes, well, let me take a look at that coat of yours."
"You don't have to-"
Ianto waved him off. "I would do a far better job than you can, sir." He went behind the desk, tapping Harkness on the shoulder, signaling him to move. Harkness obliged by leaning forward enough for Ianto to tug the coat free. "You do your files and I'll get this done for you in a few minutes."
"I didn't hire you to be a butler, either."
Ianto arched an eyebrow down towards him and fingered Harkness' collar. "Excuse me, is that dried egg on your shirt?"
Laughing, Harkness looked up. "It was a busy week!" He froze.
Ianto became aware he was standing unbelievably close with one hand feeling the crisp, starched cotton and the other resting against Harkness' jaw. The captain's head brushed against his torso. And his eyes, they were dark, fathomless, blue, so blue, like the electric gleam of a Cyber-
Ianto jerked back. "Yes, well, I'll be right back."
Harkness sounded almost disappointed. "I'll be here."
He always was. Ianto didn't think about it. Clutching the coat harder than he should if he cared to think about it, Ianto escaped the office. He was done with the button in five minutes, roamed the vaults with it for another thirty before he went back to his flat and laid awake on his bed until dawn came. He didn't even realize he had bought the coat home with him.
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.