Chapter One - New Beginnings

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned below. If I did, I would be submitting this to the BBC and not here. They are merely muses for my imagination. No defamation of character is intended and the incidents mentioned below do not necessarily reflect the views of the BBC/directors/actors involved. No copyright infringement intended.

A/N: My first attempt at a piece of fanfic of this kind. I am new to both Torchwood and fanfic, so please respect this in your critiques. Constructive criticism is welcomed, I want to improve. The story doesn't strictly follow the events that happen in Torchwood Series One or Series Two, consequentially there are no spoilers (to my knowledge). This explains how Ianto arrived at Torchwood and became a valued member of the team.

"Team, I'd like you to meet Ianto. Ianto Jones."

After the last syllable of this barked declaration died away, the young Welshman, clean-shaven and dressed in a neat suit, knew this to be his cue to step forward. He was feeling just a little apprehensive as he entered into what he was later to refer to as The Hub, although now it was nameless, and about as unfriendly and unfeeling as a place could be. At first he felt like bottling out, slinking back into the shadows from which he had emerged. It was a distinctly unpleasant experience and although he tried to convince himself it was nothing more than first day fears, he couldn't help but feel as though he was being suffocated. The atmosphere was verging on being intolerable; there had been no mention of underground offices in the job description. The situation was doing extremely little to help his claustrophobia. Still, it would be rather rude, not to mention highly humiliating, of him to simply walk straight back out, like the coward he tried in vain not to be. Perhaps he should at least look around the place properly before reserving judgment. Straightening an already poker straight tie, Ianto bravely placed one foot in front of the other, edging his way to the narrow staircase that would lead him into the very heart of his new work place.

On first impressions, he was taken aback. There were so many gadgets, bordering upon too many, and peculiar objects that he did not understand, and somehow he knew that he would never truly comprehend what went on here. His eyes flickered around the room, for now he did not notice the other members of the team. Curiosity had captivated his soul and nothing whatsoever could draw his eyes away from the bizarre array of equipment that lay before him, except for a desire to see more, to take everything in, hardly stopping to inhale a needed breath of air. He saw something he recognised. Yes, computers, he could just about work one of those – but the technology here was beyond advanced, greater than any conception a mere mortal could have dreamed up.

That was impossible, surely? However, these computers and accessories were not for dealing with ordinary beings. He had been told so, by a confident, borderline arrogant American who liked to be referred to as 'The Captain'. Egotistic, Ianto thought, as he ran a tentative finger along the edge of the cold, aluminium banister, as he hovered at the top of the stairs. Sixteen steps…the descent that would lead nostalgically away from one life and into another. No, he couldn't think like that. Change was good; change had to be for the better. Anything had to be better than this. Ianto was a reticent man, who relied upon things staying the same to maintain his sanity, and consistency was his middle name. He could not abide upset or any disturbances to his uneventful life. It was mundane, it was routine – it was perfect.

Quite what this unit, deemed 'Torchwood' did, he had not the foggiest of a clue. But that was all right. He wasn't to know what they did or what purpose these strange instruments served to fill. He was here to make the coffee.

"Where is the kitchen?" Ianto croaked, nerves getting the better of him as he turned to face his boss, the man who had signed his letter of application. There was something odd about him…his eyes…the cold blue pools that filled you with relief, enveloped you with solace and bestowed you with fear in one same moment. Those eyes that quizzically followed his every movement and yet they seemed to remain intently fixed upon the same spot, not moving, not blinking. They captured him with such an intensity he was forced to look away, less his blush should reach his prominent cheekbones. It was unnerving, embarrassing. Was he being tested? A very faint sheen of perspiration crept across his brow; he refused to reach for his handkerchief and mop it. A sure sign of weakness, a certain indication of a lack of confidence. Ianto did not want to be ridiculed in front of a man who seemed to live and breathe confidence with every step that he took, ever vowel he articulated.

The Captain cleared his throat as Ianto did likewise, fidgeting once more with his cuffs, an old habit. As they say, old habits die young. If it was a test, it seemed he had passed, for the Captain gave a brief nod to himself and raised a hand, beckoning.

"This way," the elder man replied and turned swiftly on his heel. At least, Ianto mused as he dogged him, avoiding the scrutinising stares from the employees down below, he seemed to be older. It was hard to tell. The man had few if any wrinkles, nor did he have a single grey hair upon his head or blemish upon his skin. It seemed as though time had no effect upon Captain Harkness. But that was another impossibility. Ianto shook his head, putting this thought to one side. Ask no questions, quell your curiosity. That had played a large role in his application procedure. Was he prepared to be sworn to secrecy? Tell no one about what he heard; what he saw; what he learned. No exceptions. One breach of security and the consequences were dire, so he had been informed. The thought alone of what could happen to him frightened him deeply. Nevertheless, immediate agreement had been easy, for Ianto had no one to reveal his secrets to and the few people he could call friends would disbelieve what he had to say, dismiss it out of hand without reconsideration.

"You'll find everything you need here," Captain Harkness explained, pointing unnecessarily to the cups and spoons that were haphazardly arranged on a shelf above them. With a sudden intake of breath, Ianto knew that the moment he was alone he would have to sort them out. It was doing little for his sense of feng shui. Probably a load of nonsense, but something itched within him to push the red coffee cup back in line with the others. There was no need to ask just who owned such a disproportionately placed item. Out of line with the others, both in material and immaterial form.

Stop it, Ianto cursed himself, pressing his palms into his hips as tried his best to act nonchalant. Luckily for him, the Captain didn't appear to bat an eyelid. Just because there is a cup out of synchronisation with the others, doesn't give you the automatic right to link cause to effect. This cup could be completely unrelated to the man standing next to you. You have no evidence to assume that this mug is his and no right to think this solely upon the fact it appears…domineering.

"Is everything ok? Is that mug bothering you?" A hand outstretched almost immediately and nudged the cup back into place.

"Sorry?" Ianto flinched as though the words had carried a physical strength. Indeed, they had taken him aback. It was as though his mind was being read. This did alarm him. It was yet another attribute to add to the already mixed bag: no obvious signs of aging, peculiar eyes, the ability to perform telepathy without maintaining eye contact and an almost impeccable, tower-like strength, he seemed to think he could conquer the world and yet, Ianto had the distinct impression that this was not at all beyond his limitations. Despite his promptness in judging upon first impressions alone, even Ianto now had the feeling that there was more to this man than first met the eye.

Ianto prided himself upon his people skills. Whilst he remained as tight as a crocodile's jaw around a fish when it came to personal emotions, he could read other people's fears and troubles as easy as reading a book. He hit a snag though here. Ianto watched carefully as the Captain explained where he would find the coffee granules, hot water, milk, sugar…and everything else he might need. He gave nothing away, no sign of a personality behind the frank, commanding exterior. The absence of a wedding ring caused Ianto to ponder briefly if this was because no woman had ever felt comfortable enough in his presence to ever consider marriage. Or maybe he was homosexual. That would certainly explain a lot, there seemed to be testosterone abound bubbling through his colleague with an enforced vigour. There was also a tension in the atmosphere that Ianto couldn't quite place his finger on. Well, he supposed it might have something to do with the fact the 'new kid on the block' had just arrived. It was bound to cause a rift.

"Any questions?"

Ianto chewed his lip before obediently shaking his head. He knew right away that the question had been asked out of frank politeness, rather than general concern. He had already been told that he was to keep his curiosity on a tight rein. Still, that didn't prevent silent, desperate to be remedied, queries from pounding against the walls of his mind.

"Good. Listen," the Captain took a deep breath, "I have some paperwork to catch up on, so why don't you go and introduce yourself to the others?" His deep red lips portrayed a friendly smile, one filled with genuine warmth, that made Ianto feel as though he deserved to be there, and that someone, just someone, was pleased to see him. Getting this job had shocked him immeasurably (surely he wasn't the only applicant, and by know means was he the most qualified) and although it was an irregular placement, the pay was good and he had been told by many, many so called 'considerate' individuals that it was time he had a change of scenery.

Ianto nodded, licking his dry lips. He wondered offhandedly if this place was well ventilated or whether it was just him feeling the heat. It seemed odd that it was underground; then again, if the work here was extremely top secret he imagined it would have to be somewhat 'out of the way'.

His stare followed his colleagues back as it stepped smartly across the room and disappeared down another corridor that he had yet to explore. Presumably that was where the offices were kept. Resisting the urge to conduct his own investigation (he had been promised the guided tour later that morning) Ianto swept his gaze once more across his coffee making facilities. They were not of the sort he was accustomed to, but making the refreshments would certainly not be beyond his capabilities and he felt sure that after the first few attempts he would do just fine. Maybe he would get some practice in…he didn't feel up to making small talk just yet. Not that any of his brand new colleagues seemed to take the slightest bit interest in him now the official introductions had been made. This suited him down to the ground; Ianto Jones was not a man who revelled in idle, pointless gossip.

"Oh, there is just one more thing…"

Ianto jumped and furtively bit back an exclamation of shock. He could have sworn he had not heard the tell-tale indicative footsteps of the other man, nor did he feel the rush of air as the Captain hovered inches from behind him. Surely he must be warm in that thick, woollen coat of his? Ianto pondered. It suited him though; there was no doubt about that. It went part way to completing the image. Perhaps he liked to model himself upon that of a commanding officer in the Army. It would be an ideal profession for someone with Harkness' appearance, temperament and personality. Although…the braces…were they really necessary?

Ianto swallowed back a snort of amusement at this thought, which was hastily quelled as those blue circles transfixed their energies upon his own eyes. They delved into him once more and Ianto briefly panicked, hoping that his employer wouldn't do his mind reading trick again. What a fantastic start that would be, fired before he had poured his first cup of coffee…

"Yes?" he mumbled shyly.

Once again the stare pierced into him, a momentary, extended pause and then: "do you like pizza?"

"Pizza?" Ianto repeated uncertainly.

Captain Harkness nodded encouragingly.

"Umm, yeah, yeah I do."

"Great, you can order us lunch." He grinned. "Three large pepperoni pizzas and anything else you fancy."

In a lightning quick flash, Ianto instinctively caught the small, shiny object he was thrown – really, he might have been given some sort of warning. Supposing he had dropped it, what havoc that could have created. Upon further examination it turned out to be nothing more than an ordinary mobile phone. Conveniently under the heading 'Pizza' was the number for the local takeaway shop. There were quite a few others too, listed adjacent to this one – it seemed that whatever else happened here, a lot of ready meals were consumed. Were they too busy to be preoccupied with cooking? Or just too lazy… Were they looking for a chef? Ianto gulped, supposing they asked him to cook?

"Do go and speak to the others," Harkness suddenly interrupted his trail of thought. He looked…anxious. "We've been looking forward to having you join us. They don't bite, you know…" he added as a casual afterthought, gazing down resignedly, "...well, not unless they have to."

Ianto blinked as the other man burst into a peal of hearty, enriched laughter, which was met by an answering scorn below.