Aged Twenty Two.

Anyway. New Job. Absolutely mental. Indescribably so. Apparently I now catch aliens for a living. This is officially the craziest thing I've ever done. Including that car surfing incident.

So, first day. Show up, new suit. I get the tour. Canary Wharf is just a front. I mean the whole financial stuff that's supposed to be there- it's all a lie! Apparently it's really called "Torchwood Tower." I meet Yvonne Hartman, just a handshake etc. She is later described to me as "God almighty". Then we go down to the basement.

Yes. I work in the basement. But it's good. I don't really get to do a lot of alien catching. I get assigned to one of the scientists. Professor Howarth. He's a-grade eccentric, Cambridge graduate, insists on calling me "dear boy." So much for achieving manhood on moving to London. I wonder if he's gay.

So I type his notes, hand him test tubes and try and make him coffee. He complains, apparently my coffee leaves much to be desired. Other than that I go between all the labs and make sure everyone's getting reports out on time.

I get pranked and covered in purple goo by some of the other lab rats (company nickname). Jim who's JR (Junior researcher) in the lab next to me says everyone gets that. Just initiation. Apparently I took it well . I'm officially a lab rat now. A dubious honour if every I've heard one.

The whole thing leaves me flustered, and I show everyone how graceful I am in one of the corridors while running reports upstairs. We both walked into each other. Paper on the floor. A lot of sorrys and she passes me over a few sheets mixed up with her work. Then she looks me up and down and smiles. She's just- she's got one of those smiles that doesn't leave you. Ut oh. Thunderbolt.

Anyway, it's Friday. I'm officially accepted. So we all go to a bar on India Quays. There's already a group from Torchwood in there. Rich (Senior Researcher) shouts "typing pool" at them. They shout "Lab rats" back at us. This is mad. We catch aliens and have social cliques. We all squeeze onto one table. There must be fifteen of us. The "typing pool" (general admin) is mostly girls except for one snide looking guy with greasy hair. I'm skint so Rich goes off to buy me a drink.

"So where are you from?" A ginger girl called Rachael asks me.

"South Wales," I reply, and then it catches me.

Greasy Gary (as he's known in the typing pool) leans forward and smiles as he does the most mortifying thing in the world. "Ohhhhhh, Welsh are you boy-o? Met any good sheep lately"

Oh, a sheep joke. How original. How insulting, how borderline racist. I try and maintain the polite smile on my face but can't bring myself to laugh. This is an absolute social nightmare.

"Oh, nice Gary." A voice says and- she leans forward. I couldn't see her through everyone else. But it's her- the girl in the corridor. And she's not smiling.

"What's next Gary, got any black jokes?"

One of the girls mis-swallows her rum and coke and Jim slaps her on the back. They're both laughing. And not at me.

"If you're done being a tosser-." She smiles like butter wouldn't melt. But it would. God knows I would.

Gary shuts up and goes back to his Larger. I get up and start towards the bar to see where Rich has got to, when she joins me. "Sorry about him, he's an absolute nob."

"it's fine," I smile, trying to play it cool. She's just... gorgeous. And she's wearing a very short skirt. "Thanks though." I say.

"Well then you can buy me a drink." She smiles again. It's harder to talk when she smiles like that.

"I'm... pretty much broke until I get paid."

She retorts right away. O.K. she fancies me. Not a bad thing but- new job. Office politics. "Well then I'll buy you a drink."

"Rich is getting me one."

That was the gayest thing ever. I need to do better or she's going to be put off.

"Fine, you can take me back to yours and make me coffee."

Bloody hell. I'd like nothing better. I really would, but I don't want to jump into bed with a girl I've just met. Done that enough times. And got screwed over for it. And then again I don't want to put her off. She just dressed down one of her colleagues for me.

I smile and laugh a little, then lean forward and say quietly, "You're very forward."

She breaths in, I think that was me she was taking in, in an olfactory sense. This is very intense very quickly. "Always have been," she grins.

I'm so awkward. She's a woman, and I'm a slightly overgrown teenager. "My coffee isn't very good."

"Really?" She feigns surprise. "Well we'll have to sort that out. You'll never live it down."

Then her attention slips from me, and she shouts. God can she shout. All the way over to the bar. "ADDY! Bring your lot over! And get me a Mohito! Cheers!"

A black girl at the bar cups her ear and shakes her head.

Next to me corridor girl rolls her eyes. "Deaf as a moose," she commented. "Probably wearing that earpiece all day. Right, I better get it myself. You don't need a drink do you?"

I shook my head... but had half a mind to nod instead.

"Alright. I will see you later, but I do intend on getting pissed tonight." She starts to walk away and then stops. "Shit. Sorry, what's your name?"

Oh yes. Name. Didn't know hers. Better introduce myself. "Ianto Jones."

She shakes my hand and giggles. "Oh bless. You're properly Welsh aren't you? Mind you, that accent and those eyes'll see you a long way."

Ok. She fancies me. And I fancy her. That's good enough for me. Just need a name.

"I'm Lisa. Everyone knows me. I'm a social nexus. Anyway." She gives me my hand back and goes towards the bar, passing Rich on the way. They talk for a moment then Rich walks back towards me.

"There you go." He passes me the pint. I hate to think how much it cost in London prices. "So," he says "that was fast work."


There seemed to be an awful lot of noise. Ianto thought the people in the flat below must've been fighting again. Nothing unusual but he'd prefer they didn't while he was trying to sleep.

He opened his eyes. And was very surprised. This was not his flat. This wasn't anyone's flat. In fact, this looked like a medical bay. He lifted the blanket and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The argument seemed to be coming from an adjoining room.

He wandered barefoot up the tiled stairs gazing through the doorway and what lay beyond. A sofa in what looked like a converted tube tunnel that said "Torchwood," which to him explained a lot. Then a few desks covered in computers and related paraphernalia, and then, a vast chamber, cavern like with walkways and water dripping and pure amazement. He looked up. It must've been 70 feet. Wow. There was a room full of plants, an oriental looking dragon painted on one wall, rooms with glass frontage. Water flowing between walkways. Machinery humming and somewhere an animal like cry. And also a very human disagreement only a few feet in front of him.

"I mean what the hell were you thinking!" A woman with dark hair and a Swansea accent belted into the air. Swansea?

"I don't have to justify myself to you!" A strong jawed man yelled back in an American accent.

A pretty black girl in a lab coat stood on the sidelines looking like she wondering if she should intervene.

"No fine." Swansea girl retorted. "Carry on as you always have. Do whatever the fu-" She cut off as she caught sight of him.

They all turned and looked at him. Then the black girl approached. "Oh. You really shouldn't be up yet."

He made eye contact with the man, who stepped forward tentatively. "How are you feeling?"

"Erm... O.K?" Ianto replied, still taking in the sight of the room he was standing in.

Jack couldn't help but to think he sounded very bright, all things considered. He was even smiling a little shyly. "Do you know where you are?"

"Not exactly."

"You're in Torchwood Cardiff." The man replied.

Ianto nodded with comprehension. "There's a Torchwood in Cardiff?"

"You know about Torchwood?" Swansea girl spoke up.

"I work for them in London."

That information took a millisecond for the trio to absorb before the man smiled back at him again. "Good. Just checking. Your head's been really scrambled."

The black girl spoke, "What's your birthday Ianto?"

"Nineteenth of August." He answered without a flicker of hesitation.

"And how old will you be?" She followed up.

"Twenty three."

He saw something pass between the people stood in front of him, but they never managed to quite show exactly what they were thinking on their faces. The man smiled widely at him. "Good. You should get some sleep."

"Could I borrow a phone first? I just wanna call my girlfriend and tell her I'm O.K."

"Already done." The man smiled at him almost reflexive in expression and reply. The answer seemed too quick but... everything was... getting fuzzy.

He faltered and the man stepped forward and grabbed him. "O.K. Let's him back to bed. Martha, give me a hand."

He looked at the man, closely. There was something- something he couldn't explain. Something just beyond his minds reach. He knew he was missing something massive. "Do I know you?" He breathed. It wasn't a tentative question. It had the conviction of someone looking to claw back what they had lost.

The man nodded, giving the most honest exchange in the whole conversation.