He arrived at work the next morning feeling sick to his stomach with nerves. More than anything, he wanted to be able to show the man — he refused to think of him as anything but — that he wasn't going to hurt him. It had occurred to him, though, that perhaps the poor sod's mind was too far gone to comprehend anything but the cruel way that he had thus far been treated. He hoped not, but from what little he'd seen the previous day, it wasn't promising.

Ianto made his way straight to the kitchen after locking away his coat and other personal items. It didn't take long to find the fridge Spence had referred to. Someone had stuck a large piece of paper on the door, which simply read 'the freak'. Suppressing a fresh wave of anger, Ianto ripped it off the door and binned it. He then opened the fridge, only to have to slam it shut again to keep from vomiting. The smell coming from within was putrid, and made his stomach churn horribly. He stayed where he was for a long moment, struggling to breathe normally, before he looked around to find he wasn't alone.

Gage Adams, thirty-seven years old and one of the stalwarts of Secure Archives, was standing just inside the doorway of the kitchen, watching him curiously. Ianto coughed, and motioned to the fridge.

"It's all gone off. I'm going to have to clean it out, and get fresh food for him."

Gage walked over slowly. He wasn't an exceptionally tall man, or even particularly good looking, but there was a kindness in his eyes that Ianto had noticed was missing from the other employees of the Secure Archives.

"It's not off, Ianto. That's what he gets fed."

Ianto stared at Gage in disgust.

"That rubbish? You can't be serious! I wouldn't feed that to a stray dog!"

"I know, it's bloody awful crap," Gage agreed, "but even so, that's what we feed him. One bowl, three times a day, every day."

"I can't give him that," Ianto said with a shake of his head. "Might as well be feeding him poison."

"It's that, or nothing at all," Gage told him quietly. "Would you rather see him starve? Because believe me, Spence would be perfectly happy to let him. He's done it before."

"Son of a bitch," Ianto muttered. Gage hesitated, and then lay a hand lightly on Ianto's shoulder and spoke to him in a low voice.

"Listen, Ianto, don't pay any attention to what Spence or any of the others tell you. He may not be able to communicate, and it might seem like he's no better than one of those weevil things they get in Cardiff, but he's still human through and through. Now, he doesn't trust any of us, and with good reason, but you're new to him. Go about it the right way, and you might have a chance to get through to him, where we haven't been able to. Just... be patient, okay? And try not to use the stunner on him. You do that, and you'll lose any chance of getting him to trust you."

Ianto looked to the fridge. His stomach was still rolling at the thought of what was in there.

"It's not exactly going to help him to trust me if I have to feed him that slop."

"He's used to it," Gage said with a shrug. "I've been here for six years now, and in all that time I don't think he's ever been fed anything else."

"It's not right, Gage. None of this is."

Gage squeezed his shoulder briefly.

"I know, mate. But what can you do? This is Torchwood, and we all know what happens to anyone who doesn't follow the rules here."

"Retcon," Ianto muttered sourly. Gage nodded.

"Or worse. Just do what you can. That's all you can do. Show him that there's at least one person here that he doesn't have to be scared of."

A small smile touched Ianto's lips.

"I intend to."

Ten minutes later, Ianto stood outside the door that led into that hellish little room, stun stick in one hand and a bowl of food in the other. Although, he mused grimly, food was an extremely loose description of what was in the bowl.

Once he'd finally gotten his stomach to settle, he'd opened the fridge again and pulled out one of the many bowls that were stacked inside. What was inside that bowl looked like a cross between vomit and liquid shit, and smelt no better. He'd asked Gage incredulously what was in the horrid concoction, and Gage had told him that the official line was that it was a special recipe designed to give their unwilling guest all the nutrients he needed to stay healthy. The popular opinion was that the cooks from Torchwood's staff dining hall collected all the scrapings and left-over food and blended it all together, and that became what was now stocked in the fridge.

He was disgusted at the thought of having to feed it to the man three times a day, and was already trying to work out in his own mind how to start substituting real food.

Another of his co-workers, Enid Lange, was about to open the door for him when a thought suddenly occurred to Ianto.

"Wait a moment. What's his name?"

She stared at him blankly.

"Its name? It doesn't have a name."

"Well, what do you call him?"

Enid shrugged. "Oh, whatever. Usually just 'freak', though."

Ianto's jaw tightened fractionally. Clearly, Spence's refusal to acknowledge their unfortunate prisoner as a sentient human had rubbed off onto his juniors.

"I won't call him 'freak'," he said tersely. "I'll call him... Joe."

It didn't sound quite right to his own ears, but it was the first thing he could think of, and decided to simply go with it. Enid giggled in amusement.

"Joe, huh? Well, whatever you want. You're the one looking after it now, newbie. Okay, in you go. And make sure you keep that stun stick in sight all the time. No putting it away like you did yesterday."

Ianto frowned.

"He wouldn't have hurt me."

"Oh, you reckon? I heard it ripped someone's throat clean out with its teeth when they got careless around it, so don't you kid yourself that it's harmless. Now, go on."

The door slid open, and Ianto stepped inside.

The first thing Ianto noticed was the way the man cowered in the far corner. There was none of the hatred that he'd seen directed at Spence, but the fear and mistrust were tangible.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Ianto assured him, though this time he kept the stun stick visible — not so much for his own protection as much as his new charge. The last thing he wanted was to give Spence a reason to shoot him again. Speaking of which...

As near as Ianto could see, the bullet wound from the previous day was completely healed. He shrugged it off and spoke again.

"I promise I'm not going to hurt you. I've just brought food for you. See?"

He set the bowl down within the man's reach, and then retreated to the far wall. Slowly, the prisoner ventured forward, still watching Ianto. He only looked down when he reached the bowl.

Ianto uttered a snort of laughter at the look on the other's face as he examined the contents of the bowl, obviously having hoped for something different to what he'd been given. Blue eyes lifted sharply at the sound, and Ianto smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I know, it's bloody awful rubbish. Give me a chance, and a little bit of time, and I'll try to bring something a little more palatable for you as soon as I can."

He watched as the man slowly began to scoop the disgusting mess out of the bowl with his hand, eating with about as much enthusiasm as one of Ianto's own nephews, when expected to eat a piece of broccoli. He hesitated, and then spoke cautiously.

"Joe?"

There was, unsurprisingly, no response. Ianto tried again, a little more firmly this time.

"Joe!"

This time, the man looked up quizzically, and Ianto grinned widely.

"Good," he praised him gently. "That's very good. I'm going to call you Joe from now on, okay? Because I don't know what your real name is, and no one else here seems to care whether you have a name or not. Maybe one day we'll prove them all wrong, and I'll be able to teach you to say my name, Ianto." He pointed to each of them respectively, repeating the names. "Joe. Ianto. Do you understand?"

Whether he did or not, Ianto had no way of knowing. Apparently bored with the impromptu lesson, the newly dubbed Joe went back to eating. Ianto waited patiently, and noted with interest the way that Joe shuffled back into his corner when he was done.

"You know the drill, don't you?" Ianto murmured as he collected the bowl. "Okay, I have to go now, but I'll be back at lunchtime. All right, Joe?"

Blue eyes watched him brightly, and Ianto felt sure at that moment that Joe understood him, even if on a very rudimentary level. Smiling once more at him, Ianto left the room.

"Joe?" Spence asked with a sneer as Ianto emerged into the corridor. "What the hell do you think you're going to achieve by naming it?"

"If I'm going to be looking after him," Ianto snapped back, "then I want to be able to call him by name. So, unless someone here can tell me what his real name is, then I'm going to keep calling him Joe."

Spence uttered a harsh bark of laughter.

"I like you, Jones. You've got balls. But I'll tell you again, don't make the mistake of humanising it. It won't do any good. Now, go and help Clare for the rest of the morning."

tbc...