(Untitled)

[alittleofboth]

Anthony had long excelled at hiding in plain sight. That was a necessary skill in a spy - one couldn't be noticeable, but one had to be in view enough to notice others. Popular ideas of spying always seemed to include lots of fancy technology, or at the least hiding in the ceiling or some such nonsense. But the real skill wasn't being invisible -

Comments

[patriotqueen]

"I don't know that it matters..." the jukebox said in upper-class British tone of voice, before falling into a rather silly melody.

Guy long since had ceased looking up to anything the jukebox played. Some of it was horrible, some of it was funny, most of it was rubbish, though some of that so horrible that it became amusing.

Whatever this had been, Guy didn't know. What he did know was that Anthony had heard it and wasn't looking well at all. He sat down quietly beside him, and put a hand on his knee in silent comfort.

[alittleofboth]

Anthony sank back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked tired. Yes, tired. For this moment, at least, he couldn't hide it. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked quietly, for he wouldn't have known if anyone had walked in during that hour, as focused as he had been on the story unfolding in front of him. Guy might have heard the whole thing, or he might have come in after it ended and only guessed what might have happened from Anthony's expression.

[patriotqueen]

Long enough to understand that it was something more than a talk on Titian. Or rather, he knew Anthony long enough to understand that it was something more than a talk on Titian.

"Not long," Guy said only, leaving Anthony to say what he wished. For once, he could stay quiet.

[alittleofboth]

"Mm." It was all pretend, he told himself. Another one of these morality tales concocted by the island or some future author. He had learned nothing new from it, heard nothing he had not already discovered through other sources. But the dialogue from that last scene still echoed in his mind. You will be attributed. "Who knew I was interesting enough for a radio play?" he observed dryly. After a beat he put his hand on top of Guy's. "Even if it wasn't a very good one."

[coffee_sir]

It seemed like ages ago that Ianto had lectured Charlie on the evils of one Donald Maclean. It had come to no good of course, and had been for naught as Maclean managed to hurt her just as Ianto had feared. But being alerted to the presence of one had kindled Ianto's interest, until he'd found that the Cambridge Five were in fact four on the island. He hadn't made anything of it. Blunt, Burgess, Philby -- they didn't affect him, and Ianto didn't affect them. Besides, after the disappointment that Maclean had been in real life, Ianto preferred not to go poking his nose into their personal business.

Until now. Frankly because he couldn't help it. Blunt wasn't the only one who could hide in plain sight, and the jukebox was more than audible from Ianto's seat in the kitchen, near the connecting doorway. He had his coffee mug in hand as he leaned against the door frame when the play ended.

"That's hardly fair when the jukebox does it," he remarked. "Can't shut it off or put it aside like a film or book."

[alittleofboth]

Anthony knew something about Ianto Jones, too, in the way that he knew something about many of the time who had been on the island for some time. Besides, Ianto was everywhere - in the kitchen, in the Hub, in the life of the second redheaded American girl to ever so briefly steal Donald's heart. Besides, Ianto was the kind of person who paid attention as well, and Anthony noticed people like that.

Anthony turned to look at him and arched a brow slightly. "Quite. I think I've seen people all but break the thing in two, and it just keeps playing." His voice was calm and even.

[coffee_sir]

"I think someone shot it once," he commented, but didn't know anything more than that. Clearly the box had survived. Around this moment, Banon padded out from the kitchen, licking her chops from the conclusion of her meal, and started sniffing towards Blunt.

"Why didn't you just leave?" Ianto had to ask. "It probably would have stopped then."

[alittleofboth]

Anthony arched a skeptical brow at the dog as he approached, then returned to his exams.His reply was calm enough, but had an edge to it. "I'm afraid it takes more than a magical music box to frighten me away, Mr. Jones - it is Mr. Jones, isn't it?" Clearly he knew something of what the radio play had said and what it had meant, but Anthony wasn't surprised. "Besides, I had work to do."

[wanttosmashitup]

When Kim first walked into the room and heard the in depth talk of art, he tuned it out as he walked over to the bookshelf after a polite nod to Anthony. Art. Why did everything seem to be related to art?

But after he'd found a book and settled in one of the other chairs, he couldn't help over hearing more of what was being played, especially after Anthony's name kept being mentioned. The corner of his eye twitched every time it was prefaced by 'Sir'.

But as it ended, Kim could only sit and think, eyes on his book yet he was not reading it. A radio play about Anthony. About his life after the betrayal. It was surreal and disturbing. He could not think of one thing to say to the man sitting nearby.

[alittleofboth]

It was a tribute to how much the story help Anthony in its spell that he did not immediately notice Kim. Every sense was attuned to the story being played out by the radio, for he half hoped that it would provide some answers about his future life, even as he feared what those answers might be. He knew no more than Kim what would make his future self turn to MI5 when they sought cooperation. Why hadn't he come to Moscow like the rest.

But the radio play offered no answers, or at least no new ones. Was it only weariness that had driven him to such a point?

When he did notice Kim, he grimaced slightly. "I don't see why they didn't make something up about you instead." He spoke lightly. "You make a more likable character."

[wanttosmashitup]

"It's easier to analyze the enemy at home, then the one far away. Out of sight, out of mind is the phrase isn't it?" Kim replied with a soft snort. After reading what he had, likable wasn't exactly the word he'd used. He let the silence linger for a moment before filling it with, "You sounded tired, in the play." While spoken as just an observation, there was an underlying question, asking Anthony if he'd noticed and what he thought.

[alittleofboth]

There was a beat of silence before Anthony replied. "I know." That tiredness that Kim spoke of, it was one of those things he had been both frightened and unsurprised by as he listened. The creeping exhaustion in this Blunt's voice was something he had already been familiar with by the time he had left home. That was what this story had told him - that there was only more to come. That there was no escape. "Strange, isn't it." He might have been referring to that particular observation, or he might have been referring to the play as a whole.

[poetic_apostle]

Julian's timing was perfect--or abysmal, depending on how one viewed the situation. He walked into the rec room just in time to hear the jukebox click off, frowning slightly as he looked at Anthony, still feeling a surge of emotion after all of this time. "What's it done now?" he asked softly, going to take a nearby chair.

[alittleofboth]

"Oh-" Anthony looked up sharply and blinked a few times, his expression going carefully blank at the sight of Julian. Of course. "Nothing of particular interest. Why?"

[poetic_apostle]

Julian gave him a disbelieving look. "Oh come now, Anthony. Do you really expect me to believe that?" He glanced at the jukebox briefly. "What was it playing?"

[alittleofboth]

Anthony looked resigned. No, he had not expected Julian to believe him, but there was always the chance that he would find some small thing to distract him. It happened often enough when Anthony was actually trying to tell him something. But it seemed he had no such luck this time.

Still, he was as dismissive as ever when he replied. "A radio a play. About me. Really, the entire thing was absurd."

[alex_kerner]

Well, that had been interesting. For Julian's sake Alex was keeping himself from being too rude to the spies when he saw them, even though he usually took the easy way out and ignored them all together. It was so much easier to be polite to someone if there was no conversation at all. But the jukebox had obviously been playing it for a reason when Blunt was in there and the least Alex could do was check up to see if it was going to be affecting Julian in any way. That was the last thing he needed.

"You people have strange ideas about entertainment if you will go around putting that on the radio."

[alittleofboth]

"I'm not entirely sure what you mean by 'you people,' but I am afraid I have to agree, they put some dreadful things on the radio." Ah, but of course. Julian's ever-pleasant German fellow. Anthony pointedly went back to his exam grading, as though he had not just listened to the damn little play, as if he did not care. "Good afternoon, Mr. Kerner."

[alex_kerner]

"English people," Alex clarified, ignoring the greeting until he could think of a good way to return it. "You people was supposed to mean English people." He briefly wondered who Blunt had thought he'd meant. Communists? Spies? Stuck up, middle aged assholes? All three?

"So what was it?"

[alittleofboth]

"Mm." Anthony sounded mildly bored. "In that case, I'm apt to agree with you, Mr. Kerner. We English put some terrible stuff on the radio." One of the downsides to being Guy's friend is that he had been subject to much of that terrible radio in his adult life. "It was a play. Weren't you paying attention?"