Title: Case File: 78950 - Uncovered Research
Rating: PG-13 to 15
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto - mentions the others
Spoilers: Torchwood S1, S2 and Lost Souls; Doctor Who 4x12, 4x13 (mentions); The Torchwood Archives (book)
Warnings: A little bit glum; referencing to some stuff
Summary: Warren Martyn was a bloody pain in the arse. Somehow, he'd collated enough information on Torchwood 3 to produce a book and get it published. The task had fallen to Ianto to check and file it away.
Disclaimer: The boys and Gwen don't belong to me, RTD and BBC own 'em
Author's Note: Okay, so this idea bugged me for a while and it was initially just going to be for a really short fic with the first confrontation, but I reread it and it struck me that there's other points in there that Ianto might have a problem with. This is set post Exit Wounds/Lost Souls/Doctor Who 4 finale.
Jack's reports can be found on the BBC America Torchwood website under Captain's Blogs.
Case File: 78950 - Uncovered Research
Ianto slammed the book down on Jack's desk, right on top of the letter he'd been signing. Jack looked up in alarm to find Ianto with a murderous look in his eyes.
"Is there something I can do for you?" He asked pleasantly, smiling placidly at the young man. Ianto jabbed his finger at the open page.
"Read." He snapped harshly, going hand in hand with the violent gesture from before.
Jack scanned the page, trying desperately to suppress a smirk. He pressed his lips firmly together and made a noise of disapproval. He glanced up at Ianto and the illusion didn't hold. The grin leaked across his face and he began to chuckle, turning into a whole hearted roar of laughter as Ianto stood and fumed silently in front of him.
"It's not funny, sir." He ground out through gritted teeth.
"This is the, uh, the exposé book, right?" Jack asked finally, the grin staying fixed on his face as the laughter died down. Ianto nodded sharply. "And this is your 'character assessment'?"
Ianto fixed his eyes on Jack. It was blatantly obvious that it was the page about him. It was plastered with photos of him and Jack and him and Lisa. It even had his personnel details form that they all filled in when they accepted the job.
"Joined in 2005. Relationship with HR assistant Lisa Hallett'… Ahh, now this is interesting!" Jack shot a grin at Ianto, who had tensed uncomfortably, the look like he was about to slaughter Jack still in his eyes. "'First love? Lost virg-'"
"Since when was that relevant to my personnel file?!" Ianto finally exploded, throwing his hands up in the air. His eyes had changed to a look of agitated desperation. Jack just smiled affectionately at him.
"Is it true?" He asked casually, sitting back in his chair. Ianto stilled and shot him a withering look.
"Judging on the first time we had sex, do you really think there'd only been one before you?" He asked icily, obviously not inviting a reply from Jack, who just smirked and turned back to read out some more from the pages.
"That's a really nasty shirt, Ianto." Jack remarked slyly, indicating the pictures of him and Lisa together. "And you fill your suit better now… must be all that heavy lifting."
Ianto rolled his eyes in exasperation and took the seat across the desk form Jack.
"'Anal Retentive' – well… I'll say I agree with that, though not in the terms implied here." He grinned and saw Ianto shake his head in mock disbelief. "I'd give my right arm to read that diary too."
"A, you've already read it – and I know you have, so don't bother lying – and B, your right arm would just grow right back. I hardly see the sacrifice in it." Ianto said harshly. He'd dropped into a look of deep petulance that Jack couldn't help but find extremely endearing.
"I see he doesn't like Myfanwy either."
"There's nothing wrong with her! She just doesn't like you because you feed her stale food." Ianto snapped again. Jack smiled and flicked the page, but glanced up at Ianto before he read on. There was something he wanted to say, something he couldn't quite get out. Before he could ask, Ianto spoke again. "Just for the record, Jack, I resent the implication that I'm not as human as Gwen – that Tosh and Owen weren't as human as Gwen – because we had different attitudes to life than her. Just because I listen to orders and follow them and keep this bloody place clean doesn't mean I don't have opinions."
"I never said that, Ianto." Jack spoke quietly, frowning slightly at his words. Ianto leaned forwards and snatched the book from her unresisting hands.
"'With Jack being Jack, Suzie being the ice-queen, Owen burying everything, Tosh being the ingénue and Ianto being Mr OCD, she's the heart and soul of the team, reminding Jack and the others about the human cost of what Torchwood do.' He got that from an email you'd written to Archie up at Two." Ianto didn't look up at Jack, just tossed the book back at him and left the room. He paused at the door and glanced back. "I must say, the reports in there are certainly telling."
An unusual expression flickered across his face, a mixture of sadness, appreciation and outright annoyance. In a moment it was gone, along with him.
Jack took a moment to recover and open the book back up and reread the extract Ianto had read from Gwen's 'character assessment' page. He could easily see how offensive those words could come across as. In his own defence, he'd written them down only an hour or so after hiring her.
They'd been a team, tight knit and in sync – aside from Ianto, though he'd closed himself off from day one and no one had thought to question his behaviour. For all they knew, it was normal for the young man. He wouldn't have dreamed that Suzie – his Suzie, his second in command, team mate, friend – would be a murderer, all in the name of something alien.
That had shocked him, jolted him to the core. The appearance of Gwen Cooper had revived that faith in humanity he'd almost lost. He'd written those words, 'she wears her heart on her sleeve… …makes me feel human again…', in the middle of the night, jumped up on the feeling of relief from not quite giving up on people.
He'd never sent the email, but he'd forgotten to delete it from his 'drafts' folder.
When he'd tasked Ianto with the job of investigating this book and finding out where the leaks came from, it was no wonder that he'd found the letter. Jack had given him full run of their resources – not that he didn't have it anyway.
He could understand why Ianto was offended. His life had been laid open on a couple of scrappy pages of A4 - pictures of him with Lisa, pictures of him trying to get Jack to hire him, descriptions of him like he wasn't really a person, just another one of Jack's weird employees.
He himself was annoyed at the thought of his Captain's Reports being in print for everyone to see. They were supposed to be filed within his personal cabinets, for only the head of the team to read. Ianto didn't even file them, he did them himself. His thoughts about Ianto were supposed to stay on those pages and hidden from view – aside from the one just after the loss of Tosh and Owen when Ianto had seen it up on the screen.
Now Jack realised what it must feel like when he sneaked looks at his lover's diary every so often. There was a strange feeling of invasion from the thought of other people having read his thoughts like that.
With a heavy sigh, Jack decided to read the book thoroughly, reading every word and every note, looking at every photo and every margin scrawl Warren Martyn had included.
*
It was several hours after he'd questioned Jack and Ianto now just felt mildly hurt. He was resigned to the fact that Gwen had always been the 'human' element but seeing Martyn so callously disregarding Tosh and Owen like that… well, it had been enough to rile him to his breaking point. Especially that comment on Jack's last report: 'We still miss Owen and Tosh. Gwen especially.'
Tosser, Ianto thought viciously, feeling the anger boil up a little at the memory. He shoved it down and pushed his wall of calm, collected Torchwood Archivist back up.
He'd avoided Jack and Gwen for the rest of the day, all too aware that a run in with either would either make him annoyed again or just deflate his bruised and fragile sense of self worth. He didn't particularly feel like sliding back down the slope he'd been fighting so hard against.
It had been nearly two months since Gray's attack, but the wounds were still raw on some days. Investigating this bloody P.I. and his book was the last thing Ianto needed.
With a sigh, he took his cup of coffee up to the Tourist Office and through to the small room at the back. He sat down on his desk and flicked open his email, checking them. He was intensely surprised to find an email from Jack waiting for him:
From: 'Jack' .uk
To: 'Ianto' .uk
RE: Can I have fries with that?
Ianto,
Listen, I've just read that stupid book from back to front and over again. Some of the stuff in there is no more than fabrication (as I'm sure you can tell, especially from the blurb about me) – but some of it is scarily accurate as well.
There are copies of our personal details – a huge security risk, as you can imagine – and even worse, copies of my reports. I know they don't pose the same kind of threat, but I treat them kind of like a diary – a personal recollection of the stuff we go through. Half of what I'm writing down in them shouldn't be seen by anyone.
Just like your diary.
So I'm sorry on three counts.
First, I'm sorry that you've all been dragged into this – especially you, because I know most of what he's written about you is invasive, partially-untrue and generally hearsay. I resent that he's dragged Tosh and Owen's personal lives through a blender for the sake of a book, too.
Secondly, I'm sorry that you had to read those reports. I know how it feels now when I snoop around your diary and it's intensely uncomfortable. Some of the stuff I said… well, you can see it's all just a damned development from the beginning. Some stuff I won't take back – if John had hurt you, I really would've torn him limb from limb. (And you DO look very good all messed up and dirty!)
Finally, I'm sorry about the way my relationship with Gwen seems to have come across in this damned thing. He's read far too much into things I said as off comments or in places where even I'd forgotten I'd written them. Sometimes I can't even remember saying them – but that's no excuse.
We seem to be slipping away again. I know it's still hard after Owen and Tosh but you don't talk to me about them, you never let yourself break down in front of me. I'm constantly comforting Gwen and assuring her it'll all be okay because I can read her like a children's book. She can't hide anything, not for long.
But you, Ianto, you could hide until the world sets fire in billions of years' time. I'd never be able to comfort you or hold you or make sure everything was okay because you'd never tell me what was wrong.
I want to change that. You helped me so much after it all happened and I would've gone crazy from the claustrophobia without you. Please, let me in sometimes – even if it's only a little.
You mean too much to me to let this push us apart.
It's UNIT's turn to guard the Rift tonight, so we're leaving early. I'm dragging you out by your tie if needs be.
In the mean time, write a preface and a closure note for this damned book and file it in the deepest, darkest archive you can. I don't want to destroy this, for it could prove useful – but I don't want it too easily accessible. I don't want it leaving the archives either, make a note of it.
It's all up to you now, 'Mr OCD',
Jack
Ianto read through the email again with a raised eyebrow once more before typing out a quick reply:
From: 'Ianto' .uk
To: 'Jack' .uk
RE: Don't you want the extra-large milkshake instead?
Jack,
You've had enough to deal with – as you mentioned yourself – since the fiasco a couple of months ago. Gwen was having a tough time, then we got dragged off to Geneva and just after we got back, the Earth moved across the universe and back at a rather inconvenient moment.
Quite frankly, I let myself fall through the cracks. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to have any effect on us. Promise me a proper meal and a film tonight and we'll see how much of it we can sort out tonight.
If it's one thing we've learned – hell, one thing I'VE learned – it's that you can't spend your life wishing for things to be different. Tosh and Owen did to some extent and they missed each other. I don't want to miss anything.
As for this book, can't I just feed it to Janet next time I'm down there? She has quite a penchant for paper based products – especially letters from UNIT and Whitehall. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?
Ianto.
P.S. What is it about you in uniforms in all those photos? Were you born in one?
He spell checked it and sent it off before turning to the task at hand – finishing the paperwork for filing the book away. It would take no more than a couple of hours to do and he felt a small swell of something akin to excitement when he thought about being able to truly escape the hub for the night.
It was a rare occurrence, but UNIT had grudgingly acknowledged that they were wrong and had let Jack select a small group of highly trained, trustworthy soldiers to man the Hub one night a week.
Tonight would be the first time that he left them to it, without feeling the need to check in on them every five minutes. More than anything, Jack giving him tonight showed him how determined his boss-come-lover was to keep them together.
He hoped this would be a new chapter for them.