Beautiful Iris 4/20
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Tosh/Owen
Summary: when a seemingly cut-and-dried incidnt calls out Torchwood early one morning all is not as it originally seems. Alien technology leads the team into a trap of danger and curiosity, propelling them to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. Split into two, the team must find a way back before past events puts one member of Torchwood into danger.
Spoilers: season1 up to episode 7.
A/N : I haven't written anything for a while, so I decided to finish this fic. It now has 20 parts an an actual ending :) please r&r
Disclaimer these characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing RTD's toys and promise to put them back when I'm done :)
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
Ianto rolled over in bed and tucked the sheets under him, slowly opening his eyes to look at the clock. He squinted, sitting up a little to look properly at the carriage clock that stood on the wooden bedside cabinet. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings of the room. The old cast iron bed squeaked as he moved and the old sash windows rattled in the wind.
A knock on the door echoed through the room and a lady walked inside. She was a beautiful woman, probably in her early twenties, with her long blonde hair tied back in a thick plait.
"I see you're finally awake."
“Where am I?” Ianto asked.
“Crickhowell, sir.”
“Crickhowell?” Ianto sat up in bed a little more and pulled at the sheets again, taking another look around the room. “But that's miles from Cardiff!”
“Your friend, the Captain, he seemed a little confused about that too. It's amazing how far people can travel without even knowing in which direction it is that they're going. Although with a mind like his I'm surprised that he would even notice; quite a man of the world according to my father. He said he seems to be quite the charmer, or so I've been warned.”
“Where is he, where's Jack?” Ianto asked, throwing the sheets off and standing up. “I need to talk to him.”
“Sir!” the woman turned around to face the window, “Please!”
Ianto looked down at his body and grabbed the sheets hastily, wrapping them around him. He had so far failed to notice the lack of clothing. He blushed. “Where have my clothes gone?”
The woman refused to turn around. “The Captain insisted that he remove all of your clothing to prevent you from getting a chill.”
“Did he, now?”
“Could you please get back into bed Mr. Jones, I have no desire to see what you are currently displaying.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't realise.”
“Could you please get back into bed Mr. Jones?”
Ianto did as he was instructed and climbed back into bed, sitting up against the wrought iron headboard. “I'm so sorry.”
“Are you decent?” She turned around slowly and looked down to her feet. “You should stay there for a while, you were running a high fever last night.”
“I feel fine.”
The woman stepped closer to the bed and tucked her skirt underneath her before perching on the edge. She reached her hand towards Ianto's forehead cautiously and touched it for a moment, refusing to look into his eyes. “You do seem to be a little better, but you could still be sick.” Ianto removed the woman's hand from his forehead and she pulled it away quickly, standing up and walking over to the large oak wardrobe. “As it doesn't seem that you're the kind of man who does what is in his best interest and rest when he's been advised to do so, I do suppose you should get dressed. You can borrow some of my brother's clothes for now.”
“Won't he mind?” Ianto asked.
“No. He's working in London and I doubt we'll see him again until Christmas. He's a little shorter than you, but you have the same kind of build so these should fit you fine.” Iris smiled and hugged one of her brothers waistcoats to her chest, leaning back on the wardrobe. “You're built like a farm boy, but something tells me you're not.”
“No,” Ianto chuckled. “Quite the City boy at heart if I'm honest.”
“You have eyes like Patrick," she said. "Quite striking if you don't mind me saying so."
“Patrick is your brother?”
“Yes.” Iris smiled and then let it fall from her face. “I have four, but they all work away. I miss Patrick the most; the others are no better than they ought.”
“And they don't come home often?”
“It's a long way from London. They come home when they can and send money when they can afford it and we really can't ask any better than that. I'm sure you send money home your family.”
“Not really, they don't need it.”
“Then they're very lucky Mr. Jones,” she said, letting the hint of a smile shine through. “What wouldn't I give to have a family like that?”
“What's your name?” he asked.
“excuse me?” The woman looked him in the eyes, probably for the first time, and questioned him with her gaze.
“I have no idea what to call you.”
“Iris Hughes.” She looked away from him and turned back to the wardrobe. “And that's Miss Hughes to you Mr. Jones, you and your friends seem far too familiar with each other for my liking. It's rather unusual behaviour if you ask me."
“Don't call me Mr. Jones.”
“Why not? It is your name isn't it?”
“It makes me sound like my Dad.”
“Then what would I call you?”
“Ianto?”
“I couldn't possibly call you that, sir,” she said. “I barely know you.”
“Mr. Jones makes me feel uncomfortable,” he explained. “Please, call me Ianto.”
“All right then, Ianto it is.” She placed some clothes on the bed. “You can call me Miss Hughes, if my father heard you calling me Iris I think that he would practically explode. He's very old fashioned.”
“I could say that you're rather old fashioned yourself.”
“You say that not.” Iris closed the wardrobe and headed for the door, looking over her shoulder. “You haven't met my father yet.”
Jack walked up the stairs and bumped into Iris on the landing as she came out of Ianto's room. It was a lot lighter than the night before and it was easier to see the house more clearly. The décor was old, even for the time and the floorboards seemed to shake as he walked; it was obvious that the old house hadn't been taken care of for quite a while.
“Did you sleep well Captain?” Iris backed away slightly from him. The hallway was far from spacious and she almost found herself backed up against the wall in her efforts to keep her distance. Her back thumped against the wall and she looked up at him, trying to look away from his deep piercing eyes.
“Yes. Are you alright there?”
“Yes, sir. Of course sir. Perpetually splendid sir. Why wouldn't I be Mr. Captain, sir.” Iris rambled and shot Jack a stern look when he chuckled a little. She pulled her apron down and crossed her arms over her chest.
“It's Jack.”
“No sir, it's definitely Captain,” she corrected. “I hope the room was a sufficient size for you, there's not room for much more than a bed and in that old room.”
“I was fine,” Jack said, “cosy and dry. That's really all I needed.”
“Father said that you, Mr Jones and your lady friend will stay to help a while.”
“Just until we can go home,” Jack said. "We all have talents that you could use in return for a roof over our heads for a little while.”
“It's nice to have visitors; we rarely see anyone but each other these days.”
“It was very nice of your father to take us in.”
“Well we couldn't let Mr. Jones lie out in the rain like that and your lady friend was obviously injured. It seems as though you're the only one who managed to stay in one piece.”
“Speaking of which, how is he?” Jack gestured to the door. “I was hoping to see him.”
“He's awake now and eager to see you.”
“He's okay then?”
“He's dressing.”
“Good.” Jack smiled and twisted the doorknob, pushing the heavy oak door open a little.
“Sir.” Iris looked at the Captain as he pushed the door. “He's not decent.”
“He hasn't got anything that I haven't seen before, trust me.”
Jack knocked on the door once before opening it and walking inside; he closed it behind him and leaned on it, crossing his arms as he watched the younger man dress. A smile spread over his lips at the sight of Ianto and the clothes that he was wearing. The outfit consisted of a loose cotton shirt, unfastened and a pair of brown trousers. He licked his lips as Ianto turned to look at him for a moment before removing his gaze and continued to dress himself.
Ianto Picked up the tweed waistcoat from the bed and slipped it on over his shoulders before starting to fasten his shirt. He could sense Jack watching him and waited for him to speak.
“Not many guys can pull of tweed,” Jack said, pushing himself off the door. He wandered slowly over to Ianto and sat down on the bed. “But you make it look very good.”
Ianto said nothing, but smiled a little as he tucked in his shirt and fastened up his waistcoat.
“We were worried about you for a while. You woke up and told me that you loved me.” he smiled. “But then you asked why the Monkey was eating your cheese and I figured you were just confused.”
“I was running a fever,” Ianto explained.
“Shame, I got excited.”
“Where are we?” Ianto didn't look at him.
“Wales?” Jack suggested.
“What year, Jack?”
Jack sighed in defeat and licked his lips before speaking. “1901.”
"What?" Ianto turned around slowly and looked at Jack who stared up at him from his spot on the bed.
“July ninth to be precise.”
The younger man slumped down onto the bed beside Jack and let himself fall until he was lying down. He put his hands over his face and mumbled something Jack couldn't quite understand through his hands.
“You know it's not the end of the world,” Jack said, moving to lie beside him and removing his hands. Ianto looked up at him for answers. “We won't be here long.”
“How are we going to get back?”
“We'll find a way.”
“And what if we don't?” Ianto asked. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. "What then?"
“We will.”
“But what if--”
“We will!” Jack said, sitting beside him. “Trust me and quit worrying.”
“Trust you?” Ianto looked at Jack directly in the eyes and took a deep breath. “You tell me that we're stuck in rural Wales in 1901 without knowing how, or if we're going to get back and you're telling me to quit worrying and trust you?”
“There's no point. Worrying doesn't solve any problems. I already have Gwen freaking out on me, I need you to trust in me and be calm.”
“Why aren't you more worried?” he asked. “Why aren't you scared?”
“We got here so there has to be a way to get back somehow.” Jack watched Ianto as he walked over to the window and looked out; there was nothing but fields as far as the eye could see. “And I am scared.”
“What if we can't get back?” Ianto asked slowly. "What if were stuck here with no way home?”
“Well--” Jack sighed and followed Ianto over to the window, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Rural Wales is pretty and you look cute in tweed.”
“It's not a joke, Jack.” Ianto turned around to face the him.
“I know. But it'll work out and you really do look great in tweed.”
Ianto looked at Jack for a moment before cracking a smile so small it was barely there. He took a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“So what's the plan?”
“We'll head out after lunch and have a look around the surrounding area to see if we can find any sign of any of the devices. I've made an arrangement with Mr. Hughes and he said that we can stay here for as long as we need to as long as we help out and earn our keep.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Well as luck would have it we do have a legitimate reason to stay,” Jack said. "Fortunately for us, if not a little unfortunate for her, Gwen's not-so-little little tumble into 1901 has left her with a particularly swollen and painful ankle.”
“Is she alright?”
“Nothing that two days rest won't fix. But I may have embellished the story just a little to make it seem as though she might need a bit extra time to recover. So as long as she manages to stretch out her recovery the better it is for us.”
“So we lie?” he asked.
“What do you think would work best as a cover story? Jack asked. “We're three people from the future who, not only have travelled through a rift in time, but are also part of a secret organisation to monitor alien activity on earth. Or, we're three people who happened to be passing through when one of us got inured and now need a place to rest up for a few days?”
“I suppose lying is better than getting thrown into a mental institution.”
“Exactly. I'll let you finish getting dressed and meet you downstairs.” Jack made his way over to the door and paused before he reached it, turning around. “Oh, and I've been meaning to ask, can you milk a cow?”
“What?” Ianto eyed Jack suspiciously, walking over to him slowly. “Why?
“You know what, don't worry about it,” Jack said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “I'll see you about it later.”
“Jack,” Ianto drew out his words and edged closer to him. “Why do I need to know how to milk a cow?”
“No reason, I just - I was wondering, that's all. Don't worry about it.” Jack disappeared quickly out of the door, leaving Ianto alone in the room alone, and more confused than before.
Tosh tucked her hair behind her ears as she typed commands into the computer, trying to make some kind of sense of the equations; she had been there all night trying to figure them out and the best she could do was hazzard a guess. She heard the large metal door roll open and the alarms snapped her out of his daze. Owen walked in carrying a brown paper bag and two cups of takeaway coffee.
“They only had chocolate doughnuts,” he said, setting his coffee down.
“I don't care what it is, as long as I can eat it.”
“Urgh!” Owen sniffed the coffee before putting it down without drinking it. “I miss Ianto already.”
“I never knew you cared.”
“He could make coffee. I need coffee, I miss coffee.” Owen pointed to the container. “This is not coffee, it's hot water with colouring.”
“I think it's fine.”
“Did you manage to calculate the figures yet?” Owen asked, sipping his coffee as he perched on the desk.
“It looks like the rift opened for a period of 2.4 seconds at 01:23 this morning.”
“That correlates with the time they dropped out of contact.”
“Yes, but it doesn't tell us where they are. They could be anywhere. Without knowing where they are I can't finish the equation I need to do anything."
“Shit.” Owen put his pencil between his teeth and rolled his chair over to his own desk, pointing at the screen. “I had a little look through past files this morning to see if anything showed up."
"And?"
"And there's nothing yet.”
“Why are you looking through past files exactly?”
Owen concentrated hard on the computer screen, scrolling down the page with the mouse. “Well, if they slipped through the rift and went to Torchwood for help then it should be documented, but there's nothing flagged up so far. Of course if they've gone so far back that Torchwood doesn't exist then we're screwed.”
“What if they didn't go back?” Tosh asked. “What if they went forward?”
“Then we're screwed then, too.”
"Great."
"Any leads on Jack's wrist strap?"
"Nothing. The signal went dead when the rift opened, but I've set up a tracking program incase it comes online."
“So what now?”
“No idea,” she admitted.
“Phase two?” Owen suggested. "Doesn't your plan have a phase two?”
“Well the problem with phase two is that Jack usually comes up with phase two.”
“So what do we do?”
“Think.”
They sat in silence for a moment, looking at the computer screens and then each other. Tosh opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. “Maybe we should call someone.”
“Like who?” he asked, “The rift helpline?”
"Torchwood two?”
“No way! I am not going to tell that twat that we lost Jack and two members of our team to the rift.”
“Why not?”
“He's smug enough as it is. No, no there has to be another way.”
“But--”
“No!” Owen said. “I'm not asking him for help.”
“Then I'm fresh out of ideas. There has to be someone else who can help.”
Owen stood up in his chair suddenly and grabbed a torch from his drawer. “Suzie!”
“Suzie?” Tosh leapt up and Followed Owen as he ran towards the stairs that lead to the archives.
“Suzie had all this research into the rift, all to do with the weaponry that fell through. If I know her, and I think I did, she's documented every little detail that she knew; she was pedantic like that. The answer could be right here and all we have to do is look for it.”
“No offence Owen, but Suzie wasn't exactly a model Torchwood employee; she went on a murdering spree for God's sake.”
“But this research was before the glove; it was the glove that changed her.”
“It's worth a shot, I suppose."
PART 5
Summary: when a seemingly cut-and-dried incidnt calls out Torchwood early one morning all is not as it originally seems. Alien technology leads the team into a trap of danger and curiosity, propelling them to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces. Split into two, the team must find a way back before past events puts one member of Torchwood into danger.
Spoilers: season1 up to episode 7.
A/N : I haven't written anything for a while, so I decided to finish this fic. It now has 20 parts an an actual ending :) please r&r
Disclaimer these characters are not mine. I'm just borrowing RTD's toys and promise to put them back when I'm done :)
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
Ianto rolled over in bed and tucked the sheets under him, slowly opening his eyes to look at the clock. He squinted, sitting up a little to look properly at the carriage clock that stood on the wooden bedside cabinet. His eyes darted around the unfamiliar surroundings of the room. The old cast iron bed squeaked as he moved and the old sash windows rattled in the wind.
A knock on the door echoed through the room and a lady walked inside. She was a beautiful woman, probably in her early twenties, with her long blonde hair tied back in a thick plait.
"I see you're finally awake."
“Where am I?” Ianto asked.
“Crickhowell, sir.”
“Crickhowell?” Ianto sat up in bed a little more and pulled at the sheets again, taking another look around the room. “But that's miles from Cardiff!”
“Your friend, the Captain, he seemed a little confused about that too. It's amazing how far people can travel without even knowing in which direction it is that they're going. Although with a mind like his I'm surprised that he would even notice; quite a man of the world according to my father. He said he seems to be quite the charmer, or so I've been warned.”
“Where is he, where's Jack?” Ianto asked, throwing the sheets off and standing up. “I need to talk to him.”
“Sir!” the woman turned around to face the window, “Please!”
Ianto looked down at his body and grabbed the sheets hastily, wrapping them around him. He had so far failed to notice the lack of clothing. He blushed. “Where have my clothes gone?”
The woman refused to turn around. “The Captain insisted that he remove all of your clothing to prevent you from getting a chill.”
“Did he, now?”
“Could you please get back into bed Mr. Jones, I have no desire to see what you are currently displaying.”
“I'm sorry, I didn't realise.”
“Could you please get back into bed Mr. Jones?”
Ianto did as he was instructed and climbed back into bed, sitting up against the wrought iron headboard. “I'm so sorry.”
“Are you decent?” She turned around slowly and looked down to her feet. “You should stay there for a while, you were running a high fever last night.”
“I feel fine.”
The woman stepped closer to the bed and tucked her skirt underneath her before perching on the edge. She reached her hand towards Ianto's forehead cautiously and touched it for a moment, refusing to look into his eyes. “You do seem to be a little better, but you could still be sick.” Ianto removed the woman's hand from his forehead and she pulled it away quickly, standing up and walking over to the large oak wardrobe. “As it doesn't seem that you're the kind of man who does what is in his best interest and rest when he's been advised to do so, I do suppose you should get dressed. You can borrow some of my brother's clothes for now.”
“Won't he mind?” Ianto asked.
“No. He's working in London and I doubt we'll see him again until Christmas. He's a little shorter than you, but you have the same kind of build so these should fit you fine.” Iris smiled and hugged one of her brothers waistcoats to her chest, leaning back on the wardrobe. “You're built like a farm boy, but something tells me you're not.”
“No,” Ianto chuckled. “Quite the City boy at heart if I'm honest.”
“You have eyes like Patrick," she said. "Quite striking if you don't mind me saying so."
“Patrick is your brother?”
“Yes.” Iris smiled and then let it fall from her face. “I have four, but they all work away. I miss Patrick the most; the others are no better than they ought.”
“And they don't come home often?”
“It's a long way from London. They come home when they can and send money when they can afford it and we really can't ask any better than that. I'm sure you send money home your family.”
“Not really, they don't need it.”
“Then they're very lucky Mr. Jones,” she said, letting the hint of a smile shine through. “What wouldn't I give to have a family like that?”
“What's your name?” he asked.
“excuse me?” The woman looked him in the eyes, probably for the first time, and questioned him with her gaze.
“I have no idea what to call you.”
“Iris Hughes.” She looked away from him and turned back to the wardrobe. “And that's Miss Hughes to you Mr. Jones, you and your friends seem far too familiar with each other for my liking. It's rather unusual behaviour if you ask me."
“Don't call me Mr. Jones.”
“Why not? It is your name isn't it?”
“It makes me sound like my Dad.”
“Then what would I call you?”
“Ianto?”
“I couldn't possibly call you that, sir,” she said. “I barely know you.”
“Mr. Jones makes me feel uncomfortable,” he explained. “Please, call me Ianto.”
“All right then, Ianto it is.” She placed some clothes on the bed. “You can call me Miss Hughes, if my father heard you calling me Iris I think that he would practically explode. He's very old fashioned.”
“I could say that you're rather old fashioned yourself.”
“You say that not.” Iris closed the wardrobe and headed for the door, looking over her shoulder. “You haven't met my father yet.”
Jack walked up the stairs and bumped into Iris on the landing as she came out of Ianto's room. It was a lot lighter than the night before and it was easier to see the house more clearly. The décor was old, even for the time and the floorboards seemed to shake as he walked; it was obvious that the old house hadn't been taken care of for quite a while.
“Did you sleep well Captain?” Iris backed away slightly from him. The hallway was far from spacious and she almost found herself backed up against the wall in her efforts to keep her distance. Her back thumped against the wall and she looked up at him, trying to look away from his deep piercing eyes.
“Yes. Are you alright there?”
“Yes, sir. Of course sir. Perpetually splendid sir. Why wouldn't I be Mr. Captain, sir.” Iris rambled and shot Jack a stern look when he chuckled a little. She pulled her apron down and crossed her arms over her chest.
“It's Jack.”
“No sir, it's definitely Captain,” she corrected. “I hope the room was a sufficient size for you, there's not room for much more than a bed and in that old room.”
“I was fine,” Jack said, “cosy and dry. That's really all I needed.”
“Father said that you, Mr Jones and your lady friend will stay to help a while.”
“Just until we can go home,” Jack said. "We all have talents that you could use in return for a roof over our heads for a little while.”
“It's nice to have visitors; we rarely see anyone but each other these days.”
“It was very nice of your father to take us in.”
“Well we couldn't let Mr. Jones lie out in the rain like that and your lady friend was obviously injured. It seems as though you're the only one who managed to stay in one piece.”
“Speaking of which, how is he?” Jack gestured to the door. “I was hoping to see him.”
“He's awake now and eager to see you.”
“He's okay then?”
“He's dressing.”
“Good.” Jack smiled and twisted the doorknob, pushing the heavy oak door open a little.
“Sir.” Iris looked at the Captain as he pushed the door. “He's not decent.”
“He hasn't got anything that I haven't seen before, trust me.”
Jack knocked on the door once before opening it and walking inside; he closed it behind him and leaned on it, crossing his arms as he watched the younger man dress. A smile spread over his lips at the sight of Ianto and the clothes that he was wearing. The outfit consisted of a loose cotton shirt, unfastened and a pair of brown trousers. He licked his lips as Ianto turned to look at him for a moment before removing his gaze and continued to dress himself.
Ianto Picked up the tweed waistcoat from the bed and slipped it on over his shoulders before starting to fasten his shirt. He could sense Jack watching him and waited for him to speak.
“Not many guys can pull of tweed,” Jack said, pushing himself off the door. He wandered slowly over to Ianto and sat down on the bed. “But you make it look very good.”
Ianto said nothing, but smiled a little as he tucked in his shirt and fastened up his waistcoat.
“We were worried about you for a while. You woke up and told me that you loved me.” he smiled. “But then you asked why the Monkey was eating your cheese and I figured you were just confused.”
“I was running a fever,” Ianto explained.
“Shame, I got excited.”
“Where are we?” Ianto didn't look at him.
“Wales?” Jack suggested.
“What year, Jack?”
Jack sighed in defeat and licked his lips before speaking. “1901.”
"What?" Ianto turned around slowly and looked at Jack who stared up at him from his spot on the bed.
“July ninth to be precise.”
The younger man slumped down onto the bed beside Jack and let himself fall until he was lying down. He put his hands over his face and mumbled something Jack couldn't quite understand through his hands.
“You know it's not the end of the world,” Jack said, moving to lie beside him and removing his hands. Ianto looked up at him for answers. “We won't be here long.”
“How are we going to get back?”
“We'll find a way.”
“And what if we don't?” Ianto asked. He sat up and rested his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. "What then?"
“We will.”
“But what if--”
“We will!” Jack said, sitting beside him. “Trust me and quit worrying.”
“Trust you?” Ianto looked at Jack directly in the eyes and took a deep breath. “You tell me that we're stuck in rural Wales in 1901 without knowing how, or if we're going to get back and you're telling me to quit worrying and trust you?”
“There's no point. Worrying doesn't solve any problems. I already have Gwen freaking out on me, I need you to trust in me and be calm.”
“Why aren't you more worried?” he asked. “Why aren't you scared?”
“We got here so there has to be a way to get back somehow.” Jack watched Ianto as he walked over to the window and looked out; there was nothing but fields as far as the eye could see. “And I am scared.”
“What if we can't get back?” Ianto asked slowly. "What if were stuck here with no way home?”
“Well--” Jack sighed and followed Ianto over to the window, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Rural Wales is pretty and you look cute in tweed.”
“It's not a joke, Jack.” Ianto turned around to face the him.
“I know. But it'll work out and you really do look great in tweed.”
Ianto looked at Jack for a moment before cracking a smile so small it was barely there. He took a breath and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“So what's the plan?”
“We'll head out after lunch and have a look around the surrounding area to see if we can find any sign of any of the devices. I've made an arrangement with Mr. Hughes and he said that we can stay here for as long as we need to as long as we help out and earn our keep.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Well as luck would have it we do have a legitimate reason to stay,” Jack said. "Fortunately for us, if not a little unfortunate for her, Gwen's not-so-little little tumble into 1901 has left her with a particularly swollen and painful ankle.”
“Is she alright?”
“Nothing that two days rest won't fix. But I may have embellished the story just a little to make it seem as though she might need a bit extra time to recover. So as long as she manages to stretch out her recovery the better it is for us.”
“So we lie?” he asked.
“What do you think would work best as a cover story? Jack asked. “We're three people from the future who, not only have travelled through a rift in time, but are also part of a secret organisation to monitor alien activity on earth. Or, we're three people who happened to be passing through when one of us got inured and now need a place to rest up for a few days?”
“I suppose lying is better than getting thrown into a mental institution.”
“Exactly. I'll let you finish getting dressed and meet you downstairs.” Jack made his way over to the door and paused before he reached it, turning around. “Oh, and I've been meaning to ask, can you milk a cow?”
“What?” Ianto eyed Jack suspiciously, walking over to him slowly. “Why?
“You know what, don't worry about it,” Jack said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “I'll see you about it later.”
“Jack,” Ianto drew out his words and edged closer to him. “Why do I need to know how to milk a cow?”
“No reason, I just - I was wondering, that's all. Don't worry about it.” Jack disappeared quickly out of the door, leaving Ianto alone in the room alone, and more confused than before.
Tosh tucked her hair behind her ears as she typed commands into the computer, trying to make some kind of sense of the equations; she had been there all night trying to figure them out and the best she could do was hazzard a guess. She heard the large metal door roll open and the alarms snapped her out of his daze. Owen walked in carrying a brown paper bag and two cups of takeaway coffee.
“They only had chocolate doughnuts,” he said, setting his coffee down.
“I don't care what it is, as long as I can eat it.”
“Urgh!” Owen sniffed the coffee before putting it down without drinking it. “I miss Ianto already.”
“I never knew you cared.”
“He could make coffee. I need coffee, I miss coffee.” Owen pointed to the container. “This is not coffee, it's hot water with colouring.”
“I think it's fine.”
“Did you manage to calculate the figures yet?” Owen asked, sipping his coffee as he perched on the desk.
“It looks like the rift opened for a period of 2.4 seconds at 01:23 this morning.”
“That correlates with the time they dropped out of contact.”
“Yes, but it doesn't tell us where they are. They could be anywhere. Without knowing where they are I can't finish the equation I need to do anything."
“Shit.” Owen put his pencil between his teeth and rolled his chair over to his own desk, pointing at the screen. “I had a little look through past files this morning to see if anything showed up."
"And?"
"And there's nothing yet.”
“Why are you looking through past files exactly?”
Owen concentrated hard on the computer screen, scrolling down the page with the mouse. “Well, if they slipped through the rift and went to Torchwood for help then it should be documented, but there's nothing flagged up so far. Of course if they've gone so far back that Torchwood doesn't exist then we're screwed.”
“What if they didn't go back?” Tosh asked. “What if they went forward?”
“Then we're screwed then, too.”
"Great."
"Any leads on Jack's wrist strap?"
"Nothing. The signal went dead when the rift opened, but I've set up a tracking program incase it comes online."
“So what now?”
“No idea,” she admitted.
“Phase two?” Owen suggested. "Doesn't your plan have a phase two?”
“Well the problem with phase two is that Jack usually comes up with phase two.”
“So what do we do?”
“Think.”
They sat in silence for a moment, looking at the computer screens and then each other. Tosh opened her mouth to speak but then closed it. “Maybe we should call someone.”
“Like who?” he asked, “The rift helpline?”
"Torchwood two?”
“No way! I am not going to tell that twat that we lost Jack and two members of our team to the rift.”
“Why not?”
“He's smug enough as it is. No, no there has to be another way.”
“But--”
“No!” Owen said. “I'm not asking him for help.”
“Then I'm fresh out of ideas. There has to be someone else who can help.”
Owen stood up in his chair suddenly and grabbed a torch from his drawer. “Suzie!”
“Suzie?” Tosh leapt up and Followed Owen as he ran towards the stairs that lead to the archives.
“Suzie had all this research into the rift, all to do with the weaponry that fell through. If I know her, and I think I did, she's documented every little detail that she knew; she was pedantic like that. The answer could be right here and all we have to do is look for it.”
“No offence Owen, but Suzie wasn't exactly a model Torchwood employee; she went on a murdering spree for God's sake.”
“But this research was before the glove; it was the glove that changed her.”
“It's worth a shot, I suppose."
PART 5