Author : Nemainofthewater

Title : The Return

Disclaimer : I don't own anything you recognise.

Warning: Spoilers for CoE and Ocs

Thoughts are in italic.

Chapter 2

Ianto Williams, current leader of Torchwood 3 was having a bad day. First he had woken up to realise that it was his birthday, his thirtieth birthday. Normally a birthday would be a happy day, but the mortality rate for Torchwood was mid-thirties, and if anything, Ianto Williams wasn't an optimist.

Next it had been his turn to feed the weevils, a task that he absolutely despised. And he hadn't even been able to milk the fact that it was his birthday and get out of it.

Thirdly there had been a huge Rift spike and he and Owen, his brother, had driven out to find a man in a World War II who wouldn't stop staring at them, and then at the base, with an annoying amount of familiarity.

Presently he was sitting in front of the monitor for the cells, watching the man stare up at the CCTV camera as if he knew it was there.

Ianto looked around at his brother and his sisters; Owen made an exaggerated shooing motion when he looked at him, and finally made his way down to the cells. The prisoner looked up as he entered with an annoyingly cocky grin plastered firmly on his face.

"Not bad accommodation here," he said, "As far as prison cells go, this one isn't bad at all. In fact, I'd give it an eight, and trust me; I know what I'm talking about."

Ianto decided that ignoring that was going to be the quickest and least painful way of getting this over with.

"What is your name, and do you have any plans to take over the Earth," he asked.

The prisoner rolled his eyes at him and replied:

"Well, I wouldn't tell you if I did, would I? But the name's Captain Jack Harkness and I'm here to visit someone."

Ianto snorted.

"Impossible," he said; "Jack Harkness has been dead for thirty years. If you want to invade us, at least get your facts straight."

"No, listen. I am Jack Harkness and I can prove it. Call Gwen Cooper, she'll be able to confirm it."

As soon as Harkness said the name, Ianto paled slightly, and practically ran up the stairs. He had a phone call to make.

"Mum? Get down here. You need to see this."

Next to the monitor where the Williams siblings had crowded to watch the interrogations, Martha, the youngest, turned around to look at her brother and sister.

"Could that really be Jack Harkness," she asked, excitement colouring her words. Jack Harkness was a figure of legend to her; her mother had told her countless bedtime stories about him, and she had gone to sleep for years listening to his adventures.

"He died Martha," said Owen, "We have to call Mum. How does he know her name?"

"Don't bother, I've already done it."

Standing in the doorway was Ianto, holding his mobile phone in his hand.

"She said that she'll come down as soon as possible."