"Why is it always so cold in Wales?" Jack wonders aloud into his com. "It's cold, dark, and I'm chasing another bloody weevil. If you guys were here, I'd be coming up with at least half a dozen ways to turn this into a story about some alien I dated. Owen, remind me to bring you or Suzie with me next time."
Just as he clicks off the com, a weevil slams Jack into a tree. Jack tries to return the favor, but suddenly, the weevil is on him. Jack gets in a few good punches before the weevil has control again. It bites him on the neck and for a moment the pain is so excruciating he thinks this might be one of those nights where he dies. Jack yelps. Then just as suddenly the weevil pulls back.
Not like a weevil to back off, Jack thinks.
And then Jack sees him.
Tall. Wearing well-fitted jeans, a leather jacket and wielding what appears to be … a tree limb? Jack barely has time to take it all in. It seems so ridiculous, even by Torchwood standards.
The stranger gets in a few good whacks, but the weevil is slightly stronger and begins to overpower him.
Fuck, he's going to get himself killed!
Jack lunges forwarded, knocking the alien to the ground. Jack falls with him and manages to spray the creature in the face until he's slightly subdued.
After a bit more struggle, Jack manages to sedate the weevil, and he slides a bag over its head. Panting heavily, Jack straightens his back with a sharp intake of breath, leaning back into his heels. He can feel his neck healing. Sometimes being immortal has its perks.
When he looks up, the young man is standing over him, sans tree limb, looking very out of breath and, if Jack were willing to admit it to himself, quite delicious in the moonlight.
"Thanks," the stranger says as he leans heavily on the tree next to him.
"No, thank you," Jack replies while secretly taking in the younger man's attractive form. In the moment it takes Jack to survey the man head to toe, he asks "And you are?"
"Jones, Ianto Jones."
Welsh, Jack thinks. Figures. That's the thing about Cardiff, everyone's Welsh. Just as well. I'll probably have to retcon him anyway.
Instead of putting on the usual charm, he introduces himself in an uncharacteristically Jack way. Although, when he shakes Ianto's hand, he manages to get in another surreptitious glance. Jack quickly returns to his Captain persona, and he not-so-convincingly tells the young man he had the situation under control. He is so rarely called out on his bravado anymore that he is shocked to hear Ianto challenge him, and even more so when he sees a knowing smirk. Jack's smile falls from his face.
Ianto leans forward reaching for Jack's throat with his right hand. Jack, knowing he is already healed, and not wanting questions, pulls back sharply, maybe more sharply than he normally would have.
Jack tries to play it off. "I've had worse from shaving."
Jack is so caught up in his own thoughts, wondering why on earth he's suddenly so afraid of a handsome young man touching him that he nearly jumps when Ianto calls the alien a weevil. Jack is momentarily caught off guard.
He quickly regains his composure and denies the accusation. He hopes the man will back down, but he doesn't wait to find out. It's better if he gets as far away from this mystery man as quickly as possible. Just get back to the Hub and try to figure out if he's a threat.
Jack bends down to pick up the unconscious weevil, and his eyes linger over Jones for a second.
Shit these weevils are getting heavier.
Jack doesn't want the young man to see him struggle, so with the weevil on his back, he turns sharply and thanks him again. As Jack passes Ianto, he gets a whiff of the man's cologne.
Just keep walking, he thinks. You do not need to be any more memorable than this. It's better if he forgets you. That way when you retcon him, the clean up is quicker. Just keep walking.
And then it happens.
"Love the coat."
Fuck.
On his way back to the Hub, Jack can't get his mind off the man called Ianto Jones. It's strange; he's not particularly intrigued by him, but he can't help his curiosity about where he came from and how he knows what a weevil is. Sure, he filled out those jeans quite nicely, but otherwise, he's just another Welsh bloke. So why couldn't he stop thinking about the way he leaned on that tree? Or the way his blue eyes challenged him when he lied.
Shake it off, Harkness. He's just a kid.
After he parks the SUV and takes the weevil down to the cells, Jack returns to his office and begins a routine search for Ianto Jones. Standard procedure he tells himself. This guy shouldn't know about weevils. Rationalizing not asking Tosh to do the background search like he normally would is a little tougher, but the nice thing about convincing yourself – there's no one to argue.
He finds what he's looking for quickly … too quickly.
Turns out the weevil-fighting man of mystery worked for Torchwood in London. Jack nearly punches a hole in his desk.
Canary fucking Wharf. It always comes back to this. Cybermen. Daleks. The Doctor ... and Rose. So much pain and suffering. So many lives lost.
Jack's mind is swimming with the memory of hearing about the battle too late to do anything and arriving on the scene to scavenge the ruins with the rest of Torchwood 3. They pulled out several pieces of alien tech from the rubble, a few rift activity locators, some weapons, a small squid-like creature in a glass aquarium, and a simple pair of paper 3-D glasses that Jack found near the arc.
The UNIT soldiers helping them compile the report that day said they heard the Doctor had showed up to save the day. When Jack asked to see the CCTV footage, he saw a man in a pinstripe suit, with a thin frame and an unfamiliar face, but it was definitely him. Rose was with him and there was the TARDIS.
Just before the footage cut out, he spotted the new Doctor wearing those 3-D glasses. So Jack kept them, telling his team they reminded him of going to the cinema with his dad when he was a kid. Jack was really keeping them to reassure himself that the Doctor still existed. It's the same reason he kept the Doctor's hand at the Hub in Cardiff.
When he received the names of the dead a week later from UNIT, his heart stopped in his throat when he came to the one name that he recognized: Rose Tyler.
He sighs at the memory of dancing with Rose during the Blitz in London. So long ago. He was so young and innocent in his own way. After finding out Rose died at Canary Wharf, he often finds himself regretting not going to see her more in her own timeline, before she ran away with the Doctor.
With those memories sharp in his mind, Jack finds himself transferring his anger to Ianto Jones. He's dredged up those memories again, and Jack doesn't want to think about what was lost. He sets his mind to find the young man and wipe his memories. No one in his right mind would want to remember what happened in London, and Jack doesn't want the reminder either.
It only takes a few more minutes to uncover the rest of Ianto's biography. Beyond his Torchwood affiliation, Ianto Jones is just an average 23-year-old kid. Nothing of note in his file; nothing particularly memorable or out of the ordinary.
That's why Jack is so shocked when Ianto Jones is waiting for him the next morning with a positively sinful cup of coffee and an uncertain smile. But instead of flirting, Jack once again puts on his mask. He's done it so many times now; he barely knows where the real Jack ends and the Captain begins. Waiting for the Doctor in Cardiff has changed him. He used to flirt with everyone he met: men, women, the occasional humanoid (and he uses the term loosely) alien. But now, well, it's just harder to get close to people. He's lost so many friends and lovers through the years.
So when he sees Ianto Jones standing outside the tourist's office on a gorgeous spring day, he walks with a forced purpose, his greatcoat billowing out behind him, giving him a larger-than-life air that both suits him and confines him. He's Captain Jack Harkness, the dashing hero of Torchwoood 3. While he walks, he spouts off the information he uncovered the night before researching the mysterious Mr. Jones.
Ianto is at his heels, insisting he wants to work for Jack.
Jack wonders why he so readily took a drink from someone he didn't even know, especially someone trying so hard to get his attention. It's stupid really, but after all the times he's slipped retcon into someone's drink, he should know better. Maybe it was those tight jeans again. He hurries to bury the thought because Ianto's hand is on him again and he can't get distracted. He brushes the young man off.
The second time Ianto touches him, Jack sighs deeply. Maybe it was the mention of Canary Wharf, or the graceful, yet forceful shape of Ianto's hand on his chest as he pulls it away. Or maybe it was the warm breeze coming across the quay. Whatever it was, Jack was suddenly adamant about ending the conversation. No job at Torchwood for Ianto Jones. Ever.
He begins to walk away, again with his practiced swagger.
"I really like that coat."
And for a second, Jack feels young again. He raises an eyebrow. Yep, he's definitely flirting … over 150 years old, and I still got it. I can always retcon him later.
A couple of days pass, and Jack begins to wonder what happened to Ianto Jones. He seems to have given up his pursuit of Torchwood for the moment. So when he nearly hits the young man with the SUV on a rainy Tuesday night, he's pretty annoyed, even if Ianto is wearing a perfectly tailored suit.
Well, one thing's for sure: this kid knows how to make an entrance. Gotta admire that.
Despite his amusement, Jack threatens Ianto's memories and his life, and he's not even sure why. There's no reason to be so cruel, but all he sees when he looks at Ianto Jones is the bloodshed of Canary Wharf, and it burns him to his very core. But even that won't stop him from doing his work – the way *his* Torchwood does things. So when Ianto mentions the pterodactyl, he caves.
This is just work,Jack tells himself. Just catch the pterodactyl and head back to the Hub. Alone. Strictly professional. So why am I flirting?
Jack blames it on the comment about his "aftershave." That one always sets him off. He can't resist the opportunity to quip about the 51st century and to tease people about their "quaintness."
Whatever it is, Jack feels alive. He's always at his best when he's hunting some creature or bit of alien tech that's slipped through the rift, but this is different. It's fun. It's like they've been working together their whole lives in some choreographed ballet. There's something automatic about the way they interact, as if they planned it. Jack is intrigued. This barely-out-of-uni junior researcher is more than he seems.
Jack notes a few things about Ianto Jones during their first, albeit unofficial, mission: he's resourceful, smart, funny, sarcastic, tenacious and looks really good in a suit. But he's still not looking for another team member. He stands firm on this for all of 60 seconds until he finally manages to sedate the pterodactyl.
Jack lands prone on top of Ianto and they roll away from the falling creature, laughing to themselves. When Ianto looks back at him, Jack's breath catches. Their noses are just millimeters apart. Their breathing rapid and heavy. Jack is grasping Ianto by the shoulders and their bodies are pressed tightly together.
Jack wants to kiss him and he doesn't think Ianto will pull away if he does. But despite his desire to reach up and put his lips to that full, pouty mouth, he stays put, looking into Ianto's blue eyes. Jack notices he wants it too; he's almost waiting for it. Jack barely hears Ianto speak.
"I should go."
When Ianto pulls away, Jack feels like kicking himself. He sighs heavily and jumps to his feet before he can change his mind. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he brings out the Captain both to ground himself and to make a point to Ianto.
"Hey!" Ianto stops, but doesn't turn around fully. "Report for work first thing tomorrow." As Ianto turns to walk away, obviously shaken by their more-than-friendly encounter, Jack adds, "Like the suit, by the way," hoping he can keep the flirtation going.
Jack doesn't see the anguish on Ianto's face. Maybe if he had, things with Lisa might have gone a little differently. Instead he just smirks. It turns out to be a pattern with these two. Flirt. Drop a hint. Flirt some more. Back off when it gets to be too much. Repeat. But for now, Jack's just excited to have someone new to flirt with.