"Jack, you may or may not realise, but annual reviews are due with this year's budget sheets, which means mine is the only one left…," Ianto said, setting a portfolio of budgetary and personnel files information on Jack's desk.
Jack groaned aloud. The only thing he hated more than manually looking over the budget (as Ianto had cleverly devised a system to insure his actual input with randomized fields left blank) was employee performance reviews. Why he couldn't just write 'We've all contributed to saving the fucking world numerous times this year, is that enough?' and have done with it, he'd never know. What more of a review could he seriously give for his team?
"Ianto…," Jack moaned, "can't you just write up your own review? You know I'd say nice things, and you do all the real work around here anyway, so why not -"
"No. Absolutely not."
"But you ghost-write everything else for me! C'mon, just write something I would write – be sure to include something about how good you make the place look when you wear that red shirt with the dark grey three-piece -"
"I said no, Jack, and I meant it. I will not write my own review. I might do everyone else's for you but doing mine would be a serious breach of ethics."
"Oh, but routinely disfiguring bodies to make it look like -"
"Is entirely different. That's a part of what we have to do to keep the whole alien thing in-check. It's a reality of the job. It's bad enough I do half your work anyway, but reviewing myself is not acceptable. Not even for Torchwood 3. It'd be like taking alien items off-base, Jack. Not going to do it."
Jack sighed heavily and pouted, even though he knew it wasn't going to get him anywhere this time. "I'll be sure to include your sterling integrity in my write-up," he grumbled.
"What you include is up to you. You'll find this year's budget, a comparison with last year's budget and actuals, a Monte Carlo risk assessment for the next two years of potential losses due to alien and other Rift activity, and Tosh, Gwen, and Owen's reviews as well as your own completed self-assessment. Just remember, these are due – signed and finished - tomorrow, to Her Majesty. Personally."
Jack just sat there looking at Ianto for a moment. "Well, how'd I do… in my self-assessment?"
Ianto sighed. "It's right there. Read it. You've got to sign off on it anyway. I'm done for the day, so good night, Jack."
Jack frowned petulantly as Ianto shrugged into his coat and walked out through the cog door. He really hadn't planned on sitting up all night approving budgets and reviews. Of course, had he paid any attention to the diary Ianto had set up for him, complete with reminders that things like these were due from two months out, he might have been better prepared.
'Guess I ought to put that in Ianto's review,' he thought sulkily. Then he wondered what Ianto might have had to say in his 'self-assessment' of Jack's work. Jack picked up the heavy portfolio and took out the file marked, "Harkness, J. – assessment".
Twenty minutes later, Jack sat behind his desk wondering who this super hero called Captain Harkness was and how he managed to do all the things Jack himself had done in the last year – all without half the level of Jack's mistakes. And yet, there wasn't one word that Jack could rightly dispute. Ianto had simply relayed the facts in the kindest terms possible.
As Jack paged through the other three reports, he found Ianto had written each of them in the same thorough, factual, but never glaring light. Jack began to feel exceptionally guilty about whinging at Ianto to do another report, more of Jack's work, and something that Ianto considered truly unethical. With a sigh, Jack turned to his computer and set to work. This was exactly why he'd put this off and hoped to beg Ianto into doing it himself – it was a daunting tasking indeed to encapsulate all the incredible work that Ianto Jones did for Torchwood (in fact, the world) in a few pages.
…
When Ianto walked into the Hub at 7:00 AM, the first thing he encountered was Jack, sound asleep on the awful little couch, with a box of half-eaten pizza and an empty bottle of beer in front of him. Ianto just shook his head. How a nearly 200-year old man from the 51st century could possibly look so much like a university student in World War II fancy dress was something that could only occur in Torchwood.
Reluctantly, Ianto headed up to Jack's office to find out whether Jack had at very least signed the reports Ianto had given him the night before.
Only there was nothing on Jack's desk other than his usual décor. No files, no overflowing inbox, no coffee-ringed, unopened post. That was definitely not normal…. Ianto opened a few drawers, thinking maybe Jack had stuffed his paperwork in there for the night, out of sight, out of mind. Nothing was out of order there, either, though.
Now Ianto was getting concerned. What could Jack have done with a week's worth of papers, especially the ones Ianto was scheduled to send in that day? Ianto climbed down to Jack's bunker to see if there was anything down there, as sometimes Jack had the bright idea of taking work to bed with him on the premise that he might actually do something besides falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. This time, though, Jack's hidey-hole was a paperwork-free zone.
Clambering back up, Ianto embarked on an all-out hunt. First he poked around the couch area – under the pizza box, under the coffee table, behind and under the couch, between the cushions as much as he could without waking Jack – then he had a look around everyone's workstations, the kitchenette, the operating theatre, the greenhouse, and even Myfawny's roost.
Jack's paperwork was nowhere to be seen. Ianto took several long, deep breaths and told himself not to panic. He had everything saved to mainframe, anyway. At worst, he'd just have to print it all out again, write his own review after all, have Jack sign everything (while Ianto watched like a hawk). Ianto made a mental note to pick up a rather large supply of decaf when he went to hand-deliver the reports to Her Majesty's designated Torchwood courier. It would be all Jack drank for the rest of the year if he'd actually lost all of his paperwork.
Just to be thorough, Ianto went up to the tourist office and out to the SUV to check for Jack's papers. Still nothing. Glowering at Jack, still asleep on the couch, Ianto stalked down to the archives to boot up his computer and start reprinting.
And there, right in the middle of his otherwise perfectly tidy desk, sat a large envelope, sealed and labeled:
"F.A.O.
Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth II
From: Torchwood 3, Captain Jack Harkness
HAND DELIVER ONLY"
Below the label, in Jack's handwriting, it read: "Hiya, Lilabet!"
In Ianto's in-tray was a neat stack of files that had previously taken up residence at the corner of the desk of one Captain Harkness. Ianto just stood, staring at his desk. How was it possible? In Torchwood, there were too many answers to contemplate – time travel, cloning, body-snatching-by-exceptionally-productive-alien-species….
"Hey."
Ianto nearly jumped a mile. "Getting you a bell," he grumbled, shooting a look at Jack, standing behind him in the doorway looking sleep-rumpled.
"Sorry. Figured you were in cause the lights were on but couldn't find you."
"What is this, Jack?" Ianto asked, pointing at his desk. 'Assuming that is your name,' he thought, peering closely to try to find any signs of body-snatching.
"Oh, got the reports done last night. And my other paperwork. Thought I'd leave them here for you."
"Got the reports done?"
"Yeah. Filled in the financial sheets, signed off on the reviews."
"All the reviews?"
"Yep. Yours, too. And, um…. I'm sorry about last night. You were right. It's not ethical for you to write your own. I really do appreciate that about you, Ianto. Your convictions are admirable."
Ianto let out an impressed sigh. "I'm… wow. I didn't expect that. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Jack said, smiling and pulling Ianto close for a quick kiss. "You're a good man, Ianto Jones. Keep me honest."
"Hope that's in my report – I should get hazard pay for that alone!"
Jack smirked. "It is. First paragraph."
"You know, the only trouble is, I'm going to have to open that envelope and scan those documents before I hand them over."
"Nope, you're not," Jack grinned brightly, fishing a USB drive from his trouser pocket. "Last thing I did before bringing them down here – signed, scanned, and sealed."
Ianto's brows jumped. "You'll definitely get a good review from me for that. And maybe more besides. I thought I was going to have to put you on decaf, but I think you'll be getting a special blend instead."
"Can I get this special blend? I promise to keep up on my paperwork from now on," Jack purred, wrapping his arms around Ianto's waist and going in for a long snog.