The stone cobbles felt cool on Ianto's back. Gradually the moist air of the storeroom was numbing his senses. Apart from gurgling pipes and the groan of the ventilation system, there was little noise down here. Ianto had called out until his throat turned dry and sore but nobody had heard. He doubted if anybody was here anyway. It was a Sunday and Ianto had come in specially to tidy the basement. Little did he know what poisonous toxins Torchwood kept hidden away down in the depths of the Hub. Ianto's stomach grumbled. It must be past dinner time, he thought, checking his watch only to find it has smashed as he fell. I'm going to die here, he concluded, thinking of all the doors and passageways between where he was laid and the outside world. Nobody knew he was here and until tomorrow, nobody would miss him. He hummed a tune to himself, an ancient one Jack had taught him. It was slow and morbid, so matched his mood.
Ianto must have drifted off to sleep for he awoke to the sound of scrabbling behind his head. Rats. He'd known there was a problem with them in the basement; some of the paper work in the Archives had been chewed and there were droppings everywhere. Yet another task to add on to his to-do list, if he ever made it out of this room alive. He hoped the creatures would stay away, not liking much the thought of them crawling all over him. The toxins had turned his skin a pale blue, Ianto noted, as he raised his hands. Little by little, his extremities were regaining some of their ability to move but there was nowhere near enough strength in them yet.
It was soon nightfall and the lights in the basement dimmed. Their weak bulbs barely lit the room, leaving most of the space in semi-darkness. Ianto lay amongst the shadows, unseen from the doorway behind a pile of boxes. It was almost three in the morning when he eventually fell into a fitful sleep.
"Ianto!" Jack called out as he entered the Hub. Having spent the week in the Brecon Beacons investigating an infestation of Dandy Mites, the Captain was desperately missing the company, coffee and extras provided by his favourite employee. The B&B owner just couldn't make coffee quite the way Ianto did.
"Helllloooo!" Jack bellowed, his voice echoing through the corridors and rooms of the Hub. No reply. "Ianto?"
Jack checked all the usual rooms but Ianto was nowhere to be found. The computer said Ianto was in the Hub, but where? Jack searched the CCTV footage for clues.
Eventually he found the image of Ianto marching off down to the basement with a mop and bucket in hand.
The corridors of the basement were so dimly lit that Jack turned on his torch. He held his gun tight, just in case. Some of these rooms had barely been touched since the Victorian era, so who knew what secrets they held. The Hub's basement was a three mile long network of twisting and turning tunnels. Over a thousand rooms held remnants of Torchwood's long and varied history. Ianto had been working through them one by one, cleaning and cataloguing everything. So far he'd completed 439 rooms. Jack was impressed. Personally, organising bored him, but Ianto was in his element. Jack was more than happy to hand over such a tedious task to his colleague.
"Ianto!" he called through the gloom. "Where are you? Ianto!"
If he was right, Jack hoped Ianto had begun work of room 440, but the room numbers were so faded with age that they were barely readable even in strong torchlight.
Ianto had been counting the mould patches on the ceiling when he heard Jack's voice.
"Jack!" he shouted, wincing in pain with the effort.
Fortunately the Captain heard the pitiful cry, for Ianto could not manage another. Soon rapid footsteps were approaching and the room was flooded with light as Jack flicked the switch. A murmur of relief guided Jack to his lover.
"Hey, what happened to you?" Jack asked, lifting Ianto's head into his lap and grasping his hand tightly.
"Troy root poison," Ianto whispered, indicating to the sealed box beside him. Upon opening the box he had been clouded in a plume of toxic gas emitting from a twisted and rotting alien plant. The Troy root was a trickster plant. It pretended to be dead then emitted a poisonous gas to stun anything that tried to eat it.
"It's not deadly," Jack reassured him. "A couple of days rest and you'll be fine."
Ianto nodded gratefully.
"Now we'll get you back upstairs and I'll make you a nice cup of coffee," the Captain said as he scooped Ianto into his arms.
Ianto shook his head vigorously. His words were spluttered and barely audible but Jack heard them clearly enough.
"...don't care how ill I am...you are NOT touching my coffee machine"
The Captain laughed and kissed Ianto's forehead.
"Good to have you back," he told his lover. "I missed you like hell."
Ianto recovered within a few days and was back at his coffee machine with his usual efficiency. He vowed to stay clear of room 440 though, at least until the Troy root was dead...in about oh... fifty years or so.