Adam (Part 4/6)
Title: Adam (Part 4/6)
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, and maybe a bit of Owen/Gwen if you squint.
Rating: PG-ish for dark-ish themes.
Notes/Summary: Based on/inspired by a very short vignette of the same title I did in June and promised some folks I'd come back to after finishing "Hatful of Hollow." So yeah, here it is. Special thanks to damalan for being attentive and patient and kind and encouraging with me while I drafted this. Comments, criticism, and additional Britpicking welcome. (And I promise I don't have an alternate Ianto fetish. Really!)
It was Wednesday. Five days since Ianto had gone missing.
They’d been over every last bit of the evidence a hundred times. Every hair and fingerprint was identifiable as either Ianto’s or the decoy’s, every irregularity of the Rift seemed benign, and the translation program continued to chug away without result. Tosh had gone back nearly a month in CCTV and GPS data, and was attempting to fill in gaps more completely, looking for reflections in windows, pulling infra-red and security system data, and noting correlations in Rift readings.
The only new pieces of the puzzle were an unexplained energy fluctuation from Friday morning during which Ianto’s signature disappeared and then reappeared, and a trace of now-inert residue on the gloves.
On the CCTV monitor, the increasingly stubbly man in the weevil suit paced back and forth. He sat occasionally, and at one point seemed to sleep on the rough slab.
They were running out of clues, and Ianto was running out of time.
Gwen moistened her lips and looked up at the screen. “What if we ask him to help?”
“What?” Jack looked utterly gobsmacked.
“Take him to the room. See what he remembers. If he’s got Ianto’s memories, maybe he’ll be able to help us piece it together.”
Jack looked at Gwen, then glanced up the screen. “No. No way. Absolutely not.”
“We’re at a dead end,” she pleaded.
“No.”
“He could help.”
“No.”
“He’s our only lead!” she shouted, her eyes wide and wet.
“That thing isn’t Ianto, Gwen. It isn’t even human. You don’t know what it’s capable of. None of us do. And you’re suggesting we let it assist in our investigation?”
“He thinks like Ianto. He knows what Ianto knows. He’ll see things we’ll miss.”
Jack sighed and looked to Tosh and Owen. “Well?”
“He knows the archives better than any of us,” Tosh conceded.
Owen nodded gravely. “She’s right, Jack. We’re out of options. We need as much help as we can get.”
# # #
The floor of The Room was cold under his bare feet, but he’d grown used to being cold over the last couple of days. It was amazing, he supposed, what he could get accustomed to.
He crouched and touched the blood stains on the floor. Dry brown flakes stuck to his fingertips, and he rubbed at them with his thumb. Had he done this? He tried to remember, but the whole scene was unfamiliar.
“Anything?” Tosh asked.
“No. I remember the other room, but not this one.”
Gwen turned to Owen. “Could he be blocking trauma?”
Owen shrugged.
“Step through it, Iant--” Gwen caught herself. “Step through. What don’t you remember?”
He closed his eyes for a second, collecting his thoughts. “I remember getting up and coming in early to get equipment together so that the four of you could go out to take additional readings on the Rift. After that, we had a morning briefing, and then you four went out. I was on communications back-up, but it was all routine. I did some straightening up around the Hub, and then came down into the archives.”
He pushed past them and into the other room. “I sat down on that table because I had a headache. I think I remember hearing a noise. And then…”
He shook his head and looked around. He stepped back into The Room, touched a few crushed boxes and sighed.
“The gloves and goggles imply I was handling something when it happened, but if I was cataloging, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They’re basic equipment for handling unfamiliar tech.”
Owen snorted. “Surprised he didn’t have an NBC suit down here.”
“Actually, he does,” Tosh pointed out. “Six of them.”
The doctor rolled his eyes. Their captive shrugged.
“Do you remember anything after that?” Gwen asked, bringing them back on task.
“I remember having a coffee in the tourist office, and then Tosh called in at eleven. But that just doesn’t make sense. It’s like it jumps. There’s a whole chunk missing.”
“The surge happened at ten fifteen,” Tosh said. “That’s consistent with our data.”
“And after that?”
He shook his head. “No gaps. Well, until Owen drugged me. I’m sorry. I wish I remembered more. Maybe I could help with the data? See if I can uncover anything that way?”
Jack emerged from the shadows of the corridor. His eyes carefully took in the whole room, and he regarded his team - Gwen in particular - with a sort of quiet discomfort.
“Any progress?”
Tosh shook her head. “I was going to show him the rest of the data we’ve collected so far. He thinks he might be able to help with the broader search.”
“I see.” He turned to the man in the blue coverall. “If you’re going to be working with us, you’re going to need a name.”
The man flinched, confused. “I have a name.”
Jack cracked a cold half-smile. “No. You don’t, really.”
“Alright, then. Name me.”
“That’s easy,” Jack said, sizing him up. “You’re Adam.”
“Adam?” Tosh looked baffled.
“What, like in the Bible?” Owen looked similarly confused.
“No.” Adam said quietly. “As in Mary Shelley.”
Jack stepped back toward the corridor, hands shoved into his pockets. “Welcome to Torchwood, Adam. Let’s hope you’re as good at finding Ianto as you are your English literature.”
# # #
Tosh rubbed her eyes. She wished quietly that Jack hadn’t banned Adam from touching the coffee machine. She could really use some of Ianto’s industrial strength stuff right now. They all could.
Ianto was eleven days gone and Owen had already started joking darkly about opening a Starbucks in the tourist office (something else that Adam was forbidden from mucking with). Jack had done his best to keep up with their demands for take-away and caffeine rather than let Adam fall into a habit of bringing them things.
Adam’s job was to find Ianto.
She watched him quietly. She was struck by just how much he still looked like Ianto in spite of the more casual clothes they’d gathered for him - “No suits,” Jack had said - and the way he’d started experimenting with his hair. They could be brothers. In a way, she supposed they were.
He even had a sort of goatee, now. It suited him.
They’d set up a fourth workstation for him in the main Hub area, and set up a small quarters in an empty storage area. Adam had joked that he’d always wanted an industrial loft, and how this was the next best thing, but they’d all known he was making light of a painful arrangement. He was not who he remembered being, and he was having to learn to be someone else under duress.
Adam turned to stretch and noticed her watching him. He smiled - just a twitch around the corners of his mouth - and then went back to analyzing data. He’d taken the assignment with a quiet sort of fervor and even discovered some old sound recording equipment running in parts of the base. His last two days had been dedicated to trying to make sense of the system and seeking out old microphones near The Room.
An IM box popped up on her screen.
ADAM: You know it’s not polite to stare. ;)
TOSHIKO: Sorry. Lost in thought and tired. Long day.
ADAM: If you wanted to play warden, we could go out for a bite of something. I’ve got some of my per diem left over.
TOSHIKO: You think he’d let us?
ADAM: Hard to say. He changes his mind a lot about that.
ADAM: Any progress on the translation?
TOSHIKO: Nothing. Whatever it is, it’s got almost nothing in common with anything else we’ve got in the database.
ADAM: I wonder…
ADAM: I don’t think we’ve scanned everything in the archives. I can think of at least fifteen pieces of text we could add. Unless you think the data entry would slow down the translation attempt.
TOSHIKO: Translated or pure original?
ADAM: A little of both.
TOSHIKO: Show them to me later. I’ll add what I can.
ADAM: Thanks, Tosh.
ADAM: So, hungry?
He turned and grinned at her, then raised a brow. She smiled and nodded back, then grabbed her bag. It was the least she could do.
# # #
Jack listened to the lift mechanism as it carried Adam and Tosh up onto the Plass. She’d not bothered to ask permission to take him off-base, but it hardly mattered. He’d watched every single IM conversation Adam had been a part of since they’d let him out of the cell. He’d also changed all the security protocols to allow Adam to work - under his own login, but Ianto’s biometrics - but not to access secure areas of the archive. He’d also changed the codes and combination for the safe for the first time in nearly thirty years. Rhea Silva was now Orpheus.
In his hands, he held a battered photograph Gwen had taken of them once at the pub, roughly a month before Abaddon. At the time she hadn’t realized what it meant exactly that they were sitting so close to one another, or why Ianto had quite such an amused look on his face when certain things came up in conversation. Jack had kept the picture in his coat pocket when he’d gone with the Doctor. It had survived the Year That Wasn’t on the Valiant, the Time Vortex, the End of the Universe…
He touched it gently, just above Ianto’s heart.
“Please come home.”
===
Prev. Ep: 3/6
Next Ep: 5/6
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, and maybe a bit of Owen/Gwen if you squint.
Rating: PG-ish for dark-ish themes.
Notes/Summary: Based on/inspired by a very short vignette of the same title I did in June and promised some folks I'd come back to after finishing "Hatful of Hollow." So yeah, here it is. Special thanks to damalan for being attentive and patient and kind and encouraging with me while I drafted this. Comments, criticism, and additional Britpicking welcome. (And I promise I don't have an alternate Ianto fetish. Really!)
It was Wednesday. Five days since Ianto had gone missing.
They’d been over every last bit of the evidence a hundred times. Every hair and fingerprint was identifiable as either Ianto’s or the decoy’s, every irregularity of the Rift seemed benign, and the translation program continued to chug away without result. Tosh had gone back nearly a month in CCTV and GPS data, and was attempting to fill in gaps more completely, looking for reflections in windows, pulling infra-red and security system data, and noting correlations in Rift readings.
The only new pieces of the puzzle were an unexplained energy fluctuation from Friday morning during which Ianto’s signature disappeared and then reappeared, and a trace of now-inert residue on the gloves.
On the CCTV monitor, the increasingly stubbly man in the weevil suit paced back and forth. He sat occasionally, and at one point seemed to sleep on the rough slab.
They were running out of clues, and Ianto was running out of time.
Gwen moistened her lips and looked up at the screen. “What if we ask him to help?”
“What?” Jack looked utterly gobsmacked.
“Take him to the room. See what he remembers. If he’s got Ianto’s memories, maybe he’ll be able to help us piece it together.”
Jack looked at Gwen, then glanced up the screen. “No. No way. Absolutely not.”
“We’re at a dead end,” she pleaded.
“No.”
“He could help.”
“No.”
“He’s our only lead!” she shouted, her eyes wide and wet.
“That thing isn’t Ianto, Gwen. It isn’t even human. You don’t know what it’s capable of. None of us do. And you’re suggesting we let it assist in our investigation?”
“He thinks like Ianto. He knows what Ianto knows. He’ll see things we’ll miss.”
Jack sighed and looked to Tosh and Owen. “Well?”
“He knows the archives better than any of us,” Tosh conceded.
Owen nodded gravely. “She’s right, Jack. We’re out of options. We need as much help as we can get.”
# # #
The floor of The Room was cold under his bare feet, but he’d grown used to being cold over the last couple of days. It was amazing, he supposed, what he could get accustomed to.
He crouched and touched the blood stains on the floor. Dry brown flakes stuck to his fingertips, and he rubbed at them with his thumb. Had he done this? He tried to remember, but the whole scene was unfamiliar.
“Anything?” Tosh asked.
“No. I remember the other room, but not this one.”
Gwen turned to Owen. “Could he be blocking trauma?”
Owen shrugged.
“Step through it, Iant--” Gwen caught herself. “Step through. What don’t you remember?”
He closed his eyes for a second, collecting his thoughts. “I remember getting up and coming in early to get equipment together so that the four of you could go out to take additional readings on the Rift. After that, we had a morning briefing, and then you four went out. I was on communications back-up, but it was all routine. I did some straightening up around the Hub, and then came down into the archives.”
He pushed past them and into the other room. “I sat down on that table because I had a headache. I think I remember hearing a noise. And then…”
He shook his head and looked around. He stepped back into The Room, touched a few crushed boxes and sighed.
“The gloves and goggles imply I was handling something when it happened, but if I was cataloging, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. They’re basic equipment for handling unfamiliar tech.”
Owen snorted. “Surprised he didn’t have an NBC suit down here.”
“Actually, he does,” Tosh pointed out. “Six of them.”
The doctor rolled his eyes. Their captive shrugged.
“Do you remember anything after that?” Gwen asked, bringing them back on task.
“I remember having a coffee in the tourist office, and then Tosh called in at eleven. But that just doesn’t make sense. It’s like it jumps. There’s a whole chunk missing.”
“The surge happened at ten fifteen,” Tosh said. “That’s consistent with our data.”
“And after that?”
He shook his head. “No gaps. Well, until Owen drugged me. I’m sorry. I wish I remembered more. Maybe I could help with the data? See if I can uncover anything that way?”
Jack emerged from the shadows of the corridor. His eyes carefully took in the whole room, and he regarded his team - Gwen in particular - with a sort of quiet discomfort.
“Any progress?”
Tosh shook her head. “I was going to show him the rest of the data we’ve collected so far. He thinks he might be able to help with the broader search.”
“I see.” He turned to the man in the blue coverall. “If you’re going to be working with us, you’re going to need a name.”
The man flinched, confused. “I have a name.”
Jack cracked a cold half-smile. “No. You don’t, really.”
“Alright, then. Name me.”
“That’s easy,” Jack said, sizing him up. “You’re Adam.”
“Adam?” Tosh looked baffled.
“What, like in the Bible?” Owen looked similarly confused.
“No.” Adam said quietly. “As in Mary Shelley.”
Jack stepped back toward the corridor, hands shoved into his pockets. “Welcome to Torchwood, Adam. Let’s hope you’re as good at finding Ianto as you are your English literature.”
# # #
Tosh rubbed her eyes. She wished quietly that Jack hadn’t banned Adam from touching the coffee machine. She could really use some of Ianto’s industrial strength stuff right now. They all could.
Ianto was eleven days gone and Owen had already started joking darkly about opening a Starbucks in the tourist office (something else that Adam was forbidden from mucking with). Jack had done his best to keep up with their demands for take-away and caffeine rather than let Adam fall into a habit of bringing them things.
Adam’s job was to find Ianto.
She watched him quietly. She was struck by just how much he still looked like Ianto in spite of the more casual clothes they’d gathered for him - “No suits,” Jack had said - and the way he’d started experimenting with his hair. They could be brothers. In a way, she supposed they were.
He even had a sort of goatee, now. It suited him.
They’d set up a fourth workstation for him in the main Hub area, and set up a small quarters in an empty storage area. Adam had joked that he’d always wanted an industrial loft, and how this was the next best thing, but they’d all known he was making light of a painful arrangement. He was not who he remembered being, and he was having to learn to be someone else under duress.
Adam turned to stretch and noticed her watching him. He smiled - just a twitch around the corners of his mouth - and then went back to analyzing data. He’d taken the assignment with a quiet sort of fervor and even discovered some old sound recording equipment running in parts of the base. His last two days had been dedicated to trying to make sense of the system and seeking out old microphones near The Room.
An IM box popped up on her screen.
ADAM: You know it’s not polite to stare. ;)
TOSHIKO: Sorry. Lost in thought and tired. Long day.
ADAM: If you wanted to play warden, we could go out for a bite of something. I’ve got some of my per diem left over.
TOSHIKO: You think he’d let us?
ADAM: Hard to say. He changes his mind a lot about that.
ADAM: Any progress on the translation?
TOSHIKO: Nothing. Whatever it is, it’s got almost nothing in common with anything else we’ve got in the database.
ADAM: I wonder…
ADAM: I don’t think we’ve scanned everything in the archives. I can think of at least fifteen pieces of text we could add. Unless you think the data entry would slow down the translation attempt.
TOSHIKO: Translated or pure original?
ADAM: A little of both.
TOSHIKO: Show them to me later. I’ll add what I can.
ADAM: Thanks, Tosh.
ADAM: So, hungry?
He turned and grinned at her, then raised a brow. She smiled and nodded back, then grabbed her bag. It was the least she could do.
# # #
Jack listened to the lift mechanism as it carried Adam and Tosh up onto the Plass. She’d not bothered to ask permission to take him off-base, but it hardly mattered. He’d watched every single IM conversation Adam had been a part of since they’d let him out of the cell. He’d also changed all the security protocols to allow Adam to work - under his own login, but Ianto’s biometrics - but not to access secure areas of the archive. He’d also changed the codes and combination for the safe for the first time in nearly thirty years. Rhea Silva was now Orpheus.
In his hands, he held a battered photograph Gwen had taken of them once at the pub, roughly a month before Abaddon. At the time she hadn’t realized what it meant exactly that they were sitting so close to one another, or why Ianto had quite such an amused look on his face when certain things came up in conversation. Jack had kept the picture in his coat pocket when he’d gone with the Doctor. It had survived the Year That Wasn’t on the Valiant, the Time Vortex, the End of the Universe…
He touched it gently, just above Ianto’s heart.
“Please come home.”
===
Prev. Ep: 3/6
Next Ep: 5/6