Spoiler warning: This fic contains minor references to EU stories Submission, Cascade, and Kaleidoscope, and contains major spoilers for Torchwood One: Before The Fall and Broken. However, it is not necessary to be familiar with those episodes to understand this story.
"No match?" Ianto Jones leaned forward, as though to hear better. "What do you mean, no match?"
"I'm sorry, sir." The man behind the desk pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, but didn't bother to make eye contact with his client. "It seems we don't have any matching mark in our registry."
"You're certain of that?"
The man shrugged and swiveled his monitor toward Ianto. On the left side of the screen, just beneath the SoulMatch logo, was a magnified photo of the mark on Ianto's wrist—an angular shape described faintly in melanin, scarcely darker than the surrounding skin. On the right was an empty search field with the words "No Match Found" printed below it in red.
"But you said yours was the most extensive birthmark registry on the planet," Ianto persisted.
"It certainly is. We have over two billion birthmarks in our database, and our proprietary algorithm matches them with over ninety-eight percent accuracy."
"And yet somehow you can't find my soulmate."
The man gave a disapproving cough. "We prefer to use the proper term, signum." He realigned his screen. "And we can't match what isn't in the database. If your signum hasn't registered with SoulMatch, there's nothing we can do. There are, of course, other registries. Less reliable, and with vastly inferior customer service, but you might try those as a last resort."
Ianto couldn't imagine more inferior customer service. "Those databases aren't included in your search?"
"They can be—for a fee. But those registries are typically only used by those who, shall we say, aren't in a financial position to perform a proper search, so generally they don't make it into the master database." His glasses had slipped down again, and he peered over the rims. "You gave me to understand that you wanted the lower-priced registration package."
Ianto's teeth ached from clenching, and he consciously flexed his jaw before replying. "So you're telling me my soul—my signum is most likely…"
"Someone of no great means," the man supplied. The such as yourself was implied in the angle of his nose. "Of course, it's possible that your signum simply hasn't registered with any service at all. There are a few such Luddites left in the world, you know. Old-fashioned folk who prefer to do things the hard way, instead of leaving it to the experts."
"Hard to believe, after seeing what the experts are capable of." Ianto rose abruptly from his seat. "Thank you for your time. I'll see myself out."
"Mr. Jones!" the man at the desk cried. "Before you go, would you be interested in subscribing to our Match Alert service? For only £4.95 monthly, you can receive an alert on your mobile or email should a match appear in our database."
"No, thank you," Ianto said firmly. "I believe you've taken quite enough of my money for one day."
He made his way out of the office suite, scowling at the two interlinked hearts of the SoulMatch logo stenciled on the door.
Outside, Ianto jingled the few coins remaining in his pocket and debated his next destination. The SoulMatch registration had taken most of his remaining cash; what was left might buy him a few drinks or a day's groceries, but he would definitely have to find some kind of gainful employment in order to make rent this month. At least the lease was in Soren's name, and his flatmate was pretty casual about the rent. If Ianto asked him for an extra week to pay, he'd probably allow it.
Provided Ianto could find a job in that time.
But he was doing his best. Or had been, until he'd gotten sidetracked by the lure of romance, happiness, and financial security. He'd been in the city center to drop off his CV at a few likely companies, when he'd spotted the iconic SoulMatch logo on the door of an adjacent suite. Against his better judgment, he'd wandered in, and within minutes he'd been railroaded through the registration process and relieved of the contents of his wallet.
Signum registration was something he'd been thinking about for a long time, but the steep fee had always put him off. Today, he'd somehow convinced himself that a positive match might lead to a serious relationship with someone in better financial circumstances than himself, and that it was therefore worth gambling the last of his savings to make the connection. But his rags-to-riches dream had come to nothing, and now he had to face the truth: He'd simply been feeling lonely, as he had ever since he'd come to London—and even before that, if he were honest with himself. And now he was not only still lonely, but also near-penniless. Even if he had found his match, he mused grimly, he couldn't even afford to buy her—or him—a nice dinner.
Ianto groaned and looked around. While he'd been lost in thought, his feet had carried him out of the forest of modern glass and steel and into an area of smaller brick structures. In the long afternoon shadows cast by the skyscrapers behind him, the incandescent halo of pub lights beckoned warmly. The early February breeze iced his bare neck, and Ianto turned in at the nearest door.
The pub was not yet crowded, though Ianto guessed it would fill quickly once the nearby offices closed for the day. Several patrons lounged at candlelit tables, while the bar was nearly empty. Favoring solitude, Ianto took a seat at one end of the bar and ordered the cheapest ale on draught. As he carefully counted out his coins, he again berated himself for wasting the little money he'd had on signum registration. His time would have been better spent looking for work. Or begging on the street.
The bartender put a pint in front of him, and Ianto sipped it pensively. Would romance have been easier or harder, he wondered, during the previous generation? Was it better to go out blindly into the world seeking a mate, without any assurance that there was someone out there, or to know you had one perfect match waiting for you, but not know where to find that person? He imagined it might be easier to make friends and date people without the mark on his wrist telling him that they weren't right for him. Perhaps that's why he felt so lonely: He simply wasn't willing to experiment when he knew it wasn't meant to be.
Ianto tugged back his sleeve and traced the birthmark, a faint, irregular triangle with a stroke across the narrow end. When he'd lived at home, his sister had teased him that it looked like the "next chapter" button on a remote control. He tried to think of that symbolism in a positive light, framing his signum as the exciting next chapter in his own life, rather than the button people wanted to push to skip forward to something else when they met him.
The mark had been growing more visible, of late, though he wasn't sure why. He'd found an article on the internet that suggested the mark grew stronger the longer one spent alone, as though the body were trying to make it more obvious to better attract one's signum, but he wasn't sure he put much stock in that theory. After all, he'd felt alone for years, and the mark had only recently begun to darken.
He was still staring at his wrist when a slim body slid onto the stool beside him. "Mind if I sit here?" a female voice asked. He glanced up to see an attractive young woman smiling hesitantly at him. "Only there are no tables left, and I don't like the way that bloke by the other open seat looked at me."
It took Ianto a moment to find his voice. He wasn't used to beautiful strangers speaking to him. "No, yeah, fine. Sit where you like." She blinked at the curtness of his words, and Ianto flinched inwardly. He floundered a bit before blurting, "Sorry, I was sort of lost in thought. Didn't mean to… Um. Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?"
An instant after he'd spoken, Ianto wished he could withdraw the words from the air. He could scarcely pay for his own drink, much less a stranger's. Fortunately, she saved him from that embarrassment by shaking her head. "Thanks, but I'm just waiting on some friends from work. They got caught up in a project and had to stay late." She picked up the pub menu and skimmed it.
"Oh." Ianto poked awkwardly at the condensation ring his glass was leaving on the wood. "You work around here?"
"Not too far away."
"Do you like it?" This time she shot him a sidelong glance, and Ianto hastily added, "I've been looking for a job, so I was wondering if you had any recommendations."
The woman shrugged. "Depends on what kind of work you're looking for."
"Anything that pays, at the moment," Ianto replied. "I mean… I'm pretty good with most business, er, office-type things. Computers, research, records, organizing… making coffee…" He trailed off at the look on her face and fought the urge to crawl beneath the nearest table. No wonder he couldn't land an interview, if that was the best description of his skills he could manage.
"You have any experience? Training? Education?"
"Bachelor's degree from Cardiff University. Honours, even." Ianto smiled wryly. "But it seems four years devoted to English Literature and History doesn't translate to marketable skills for the modern business market."
"I know that story too well." She returned his grim smile. "For the record, neither does Fashion Design. You have any particular type of job in mind?"
"I'm not too choosy. I think I'd be a pretty good office manager, but I'd be happy with anything at this point, even if it's just answering phones."
The woman cringed. "You must really need that paycheck."
Ianto nodded. "I have just enough for the week's groceries in my bank account, and then I'll be out on the street."
She regarded him with sympathy. "No place to fall back on?"
He shook his head. "My family… it's complicated."
"It usually is." She signaled the bartender and pointed at the cocktail special listed on the blackboard over the bar, then turned back to Ianto. "I couldn't help noticing you were…" She tapped her wrist to indicate the place where his birthmark was located. "Love problems?"
Ianto laughed wryly. "The problem is that I'm a gullible idiot. I let someone at SoulMatch talk me into registering, even though I couldn't afford it. Not that it did any good; they couldn't find a match for me."
"Oh, that's rough." The woman shrugged. "Personally, I don't put a lot of stock in the whole registry thing. I think if there's enough destiny in the universe to give two people a matching mark to show they're meant to be together, then there's enough destiny to make sure their paths cross at some point. And if it takes a while, well, there are a lot of interesting people in the world to meet in the meantime."
"Fair point. Wish I'd thought of it a few hours ago." Ianto finished his drink.
The bartender brought the woman the drink she'd ordered, and she gestured at Ianto's empty glass. "You want another one?"
Ianto hesitated. "I really shouldn't. I shouldn't have spent the money on this one, only…"
The woman turned back to the bartender. "Bring him another one of whatever he's having, and put it on my bill."
Ianto balked. "I… you…"
She grinned and shook her head. "No worries. My friends still aren't here, and you're keeping me company. It's the least I can do."
"Thank you." Ianto smiled warmly.
"And I have an ulterior motive." She winked. "You see, I actually work in the HR department for a big… institute, and I know we're looking to recruit some new staff. It's a really exclusive company, so I can't promise anything, but if you tell me more about yourself, I might—might—be able to get you an interview."
Ianto's world realigned, and in that moment he didn't care if she were telling the truth, or if it were all some kind of elaborate kidnapping gimmick. "I… yeah, sure, of course! What would you like to know?"
"Well, let's start with your name," she laughed.
"Jones," he blurted. "Ianto Jones."
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones." The woman extended her hand. "My name's Lisa Hallett."