The Unexpected Rise of Director Jones
by Soledad
Summary: Jack is gone, and the rest of the Torchwood Three team must see how they manage without him.
Author's note: As before, certain details of Prince William's life are genuine.
This story is not beta read. All mistakes belong exclusively to me. *g*
Chapter 11 – The Batcave
When the second in the line or Britain's throne made a request, people usually did their level best to comply. So Sarah Jane made a phone call and thirty minutes later Mickey Smith came up to the Palace to meet them. (The employees of the Palace reportedly needed a long time to recover from the shock.)
He and Trevor greeted each other somewhat awkwardly – the fact that he had infiltrated Torchwood London under a false name still hung between them in the air – but he cheered up immediately when he learned the Ianto and Gwen were from Jack's team. He also didn't seem to have a problem with the idea of leaving London for Cardiff.
Ianto found that he liked him. Mickey wasn't particularly well-educated, true; but he was tough, street-wise and loyal, and had ample first-hand experience with alien technology and weapons. Plus, he had fought a guerrilla war against Cybermen… and won, which alone endeared him to Ianto. That he had his personal grudges against the Doctor was only a bonus.
After they had cleared some of the details, they all agreed that Trevor, Sally and Mickey would quit their jobs or get transformed by higher orders, pack their household and move to Cardiff within the week. For the first time since Jack's unexpected departure, Ianto allowed himself the tentative hope that they might actually manage to save Torchwood Three, after all.
"I can get you and all your stuff over to Cardiff in one go," Mickey offered the other two. "When I came back, I bought a monster truck – don't ask me why. Temporary madness, probably; I always wanted one, as a small boy it was already my dream, and I brought some cash from Pete's Word back with me. Not much, but enough to buy it. I guess I just wanted to be able to move on, whenever I wanted."
"You actually live in that thing?" Sarah Jane shook her head in mild shock.
Mickey grinned. "Most of the time, yeah. I just go back to my bed-sit to wash my things and to bathe. I could move tonight if I had to. But I'll wait for Sally and Speckles here."
Trevor gave him an unfriendly glare, which didn't seem to bother Mickey the slightest. After that, the three Torchwood members in spe took their leave to start organising things. Sarah Jane went with them.
"I thought you wanted to talk to me in private, Ms Smith," Ianto said. "Something about public relations, I believe?"
"Oh, I will, don't worry,' she replied, "Which is why I'm going to Cardiff with you… well, with Mickey and the others, that is. There's somebody in Cardiff I need to meet anyway, so I can kill two birds with the same stone."
"I think I'll join you, too," Prince William said, to everyone's shocked surprise. "Her Majesty told me that I needed to make myself familiar with the state of things in Cardiff, and I find that nothing beats personal experience. Besides, I got a couple of days free, and a change of scenery will do me good."
"Have you considered th' implications o' such a trip, Yer Highness?" Archie, who'd been remarkably quiet during the last part of the meeting, asked seriously. The Prince nodded.
"Yes, Sir Archibald, I have; and I know the risks. The Queen and I discussed this and came to the conclusion that I need to go to Cardiff, preferably incognito, and that this is the best time to do so," he gave the Torchwood agents, both current and future ones, a wry smile. "After all, I'll be travelling with people who faced down murderous aliens and lived to tell the tale. I doubt that a dozen bodyguards would keep me safer."
"An' ya're plannin' t' get on th' train with these two, like everyone else? Archie clarified.
The prince shrugged. "Why not?"
"'Cause people will recognise ya, that's why," Archie said.
"No, they won't," Ianto interfered calmly.
Archie all but exploded. "What do ya mean they won't? O' course they will, unless ya've got a chameleon circuit handy…" he trailed off, staring at Ianto in disbelief. "Nay… ya cannot… 'cept ya do, right?"
"Quite," Ianto pulled a small box out of one of his inner pockets and took out something that, for all intents and purposes, looked like a finely made tiepin. "If His Highness allows…"
"By all means," Prince William replied, looking down along his nose with interest in an effort to watch Ianto fasten the golden pin to his breast pocket, as his duty uniform didn't include any ties. "How will this help me conceal my identity?"
Ianto glanced around and spotted a large mirror in one of the niches. See for yourself, Your Highness!"
His curiosity piqued, the prince hurried over to the mirror – and his jaw hit the floor seeing the image looking back at him. It still had a vague resemblance to him – or rather what he might look like in twenty years, assuming he would lose much of his hair and develop a definite paunch. He also seemed to wear faded jeans and a baggy jumper now. An oatmeal-coloured one.
"Well, this is… interesting," he said, after recovering from his first shock. "How did you come up with the idea?"
"It's basic programming that comes with the circuit by default," Ianto explained. "Age the wearer twenty years, add forty to fifty pounds of weight and shabby clothing. I sometimes use these settings myself; since people tend to remember my suits better than me, it always works like a charm."
"It's highly unlikely that anyone would recognise me," the prince agreed. "The clothing is still a disgrace, though."
"That can easily be helped," Ianto offered. "I'll adjust the filter so that it will only change your looks."
The prince nodded. "That would be more practical, I think," he removed the circuit and handed it back to Ianto who changed the settings with what looked like a hairpin but was, in fact, a fine and very sophisticated screwdriver.
"Here you go, Your Highness. That should do the trick."
Prince William put the not-quite-tie-pin back on and indeed, this time only his looks were changed.
"Better," he judged "Although I make a rather disgraceful airman this way. You know, this all won't work if you keep calling me 'Your Highness', though, don't you?"
Ianto tilted his head to the side, bird-like.
"Perhaps," he allowed. "Do you have any alternate suggestions, Your… I mean, sir?"
"As long as you don't call me Wills, I'm fine," the prince told him, pulling a face. "I hate that stupid nickname."
"Th' press seems to be rather fond of it, though," Archie said.
Prince William's face darkened. "Yeah; that's why I hate it so much. They made it up and use it as they please, without asking what I think about it. As if I were their possession or whatever."
"The problem is, you are, to a certain degree," Ianto pointed out apologetically. "Your position means that in a way you belong to us all; to the people."
"I don't have a problem with the people," the prince said with a bitter undertone. "I just have a problem with the press."
"Which is understandable, all things considered," Archie said gently. "But not all o' them are hyenas, ya know."
"In that case Wills is out of question; not that I could ever call you that," Ianto switched topics hurriedly, to spare the young prince's feelings. He knew what it was like to lose one's mother at a fairly young age. "What else is there; I mean strictly for the sake of secrecy, of course."
The prince shrugged. "Well, my parents used to call me Wombat when I was a toddler," he told them with a grin, but Ianto shook his head.
"I'm not sure I could become comfortable with that, either," he admitted. "What about Lieutenant Wales? If I remember correctly, that's the name you used in the Army, isn't it? That would be both casual and suitably respectful."
"You're very much hung up on titles, aren't you?" the prince smiled.
"Yes," Ianto answered bluntly. "I was raised with manners; and Torchwood London trained its employees to show their betters proper respect."
"Does my birth automatically make me better than you?" Prince William asked seriously. "Does it make me smarter, braver, more knowledgeable? I don't think so. I read your file, Mr Jones. You're younger than me and have already gone through things that would make battle-hardened generals weep. I'd be honoured if you could unwind enough around me to call me Billy, as my fellow airmen did."
Ianto considered this for a moment, while the other two were staring at them in stunned disbelief. Under different circumstances Gwen's blowfish imitation would have been particularly entertaining.
"I think you'll have to give me some time for that, lieutenant," he finally said. "I'm not Jack; I don't think I could do it just now."
The prince nodded. "Fair enough. Now, how am I supposed to leave the Palace in the morning unnoticed? Even in this unflattering disguise, the security cameras ought to pick me up coming out of my room, and that could lead to all sorts of uncomfortable questions."
"Not if you wear the tie-pin," Ianto said. "It has a perception filter; people won't notice you, unless they are consciously looking for you."
"Which is what they will do," the prince answered logically. "That's their job."
"Not if you leave outside your schedule; say, half an hour earlier than you usually do," Ianto said. "We'll be waiting for you in a cab, a few streets further. I'll text you the exact location in the last moment, just in case."
Archie frowned. "Are ya sure that would be wise, lad?"
Ianto nodded. "Yep. Torchwood-issue phones can't be tracked, not even by the Secret Service. The advantage of alien tech we use on them."
"It's still risky," Archie commented in concern.
The prince grinned like a shark. "That's what makes it fun. And besides, do you really think that anyone would recognise me like this?"
Archie had to admit that it was highly unlikely, and so the Torchwood people left the Palace to prepare themselves for the journey back to their respective outposts.
Despite everyone's worries, the meeting and the subsequent train ride to Cardiff on the next day went without problems. They d their destination in the late morning and were picked up by Andy Davidson at Cardiff Station. To both Ianto and Gwen's surprise, he was driving Ianto's car.
"Toshiko gave me the keys," he explained apologetically. "She thought it better than let me drive the Torchwood SUV."
"She was right," Ianto looked a the disguised prince, who was wearing his dress uniform this time, with the matching red beret. "Lieutenant, take the passenger seat; you're our guest, after all. Gwen and I will ride in the back."
That obviously didn't bode well for Gwen, if her scowl was any indication – although it wasn't clear whether she disliked not getting the passenger seat or not getting to sit with the prince in the back – but miraculously, she didn't protest. Perhaps she wanted to make a better impression than in the previous two days. Or she didn't want to get into a verbal fight with Andy present when there was a chance to lost the argument.
Whatever the case might be, she climbed into the back seat without a word and studiously ignored Ianto for the duration of the drive. Which was fine with Ianto, honestly. He was still trying to absorb the fact that he was now the Torchwood Director. It was too weird to swallow it just like that.
A short time later Andy pulled up the car in front of the Millennium Centre.
"Toshiko told me to let you out here," he said. "I'll take your car back to the parking area and hung up the keys in the tourist office."
"Thank you, Andy," Ianto got out of the car, waited until the others followed suit and Andy was out of sight; then he turned to the prince. "We'll take the direct route; I hope as a pilot you have no problem with great heights."
"Nothing that I'd have noticed so far," Prince William looked around with interest. "You've got an entrance to your base directly from the Plass? I can't see anything even remotely like that."
Ianto smiled. "That's why we call it the invisible lift. Stand on this particular slab of the pavement, please, and feel free to hold onto us. It's a quick and efficient ride, but not necessarily pleasant for everyone."
He took an earpiece out of his pocket and inserted it into his right ear. "Tosh, we're here. Unlock the lift for us, please."
"Got it; and welcome back," a tiny female voice answered, and in the next moment the slab of stone they ware standing on bean to sink, smoothly and slowly, under their feet. The prince instinctively grabbed Ianto's arm, his eyes comically wide, even in his disguise.
"What the hell is this?"
"As I said, we call it the invisible lift," Ianto replied calmly. "Back in 2006, the Doctor parked his TARDIS on this very spot to refuel her with Rift energy. The dimensionally transcendental chameleon circuit of the TARDIS was leaking, welding its perception properties to the Rift itself, and since then anyone standing on this particular slab remains invisible and inaudible for the onlookers. Jack put the fact to good use by creating an emergency entrance to the Hub."
"To the what?"
"Our base. But we use it sparsely, just in case."
"Is there another entrance?" the prince asked, getting his balance back.
"The scenic tour, through our covers hop, the tourist information office Andy mentioned," Ianto replied with a somewhat embarrassed shrug. "That's where I pretended to work a few hours each day until now. Did the more harmless filing from there with the help of Mainframe."
"Mainframe?" the prince repeated with a frown.
"Our central computer," Ianto explained. "A semi-organic one, so she counts as a life form… more or less. I'll introduce you to her. It might come in handy, should you need to get into the base in our absence. One can never know."
"You refer your central processing unit as she?" the prince was mildly amused.
Gwen rolled her eyes. "They all do. Silly, isn't it? It's just a piece of tech."
"Which is why she locks you out randomly," Ianto commented dryly. "She is a sentient, self-aware piece of tech; a crystal-based life form of some sort that fell through the Rift somehow before Torchwood as even formed and too up residence under what was a planned but never actually finished underground railway station. When Torchwood Three discovered her, in the middle of the 20th century, she had practically filled the room and attached herself to whatever technology was available. It was decided to move the crystals to Torchwood London, where they became part of the computer network and destroyed in the Battle of Canary Wharf – they were no match for the Dalek disintegrator rays. Fortunately, the head scientist of the Cardiff team at that time managed to save a few of the crystals and incorporated them with the rudimentary computers of the base, and so Mainframe was born."
"Great speech, Professor Jones," Gwen muttered. "And why is it that you know all these things? You were just the teaboy."
"I was the archivist and did all the filing," Ianto corrected. "Besides I'm not the only one to know it. Tosh knows about it, Suzie knew about it; and so did Jack, of course, since he was already here when these things happened."
"And he told you instead of me?" Gwen snorted. "Oh, please!"
"No, he didn't," Ianto gritted his teeth. "He didn't have to. It's all in the history files for everyone with a high enough clearance to read."
"And you had the clearance?" Gwen taunted. "You, were just Jack's manservant and part time… entertainment," she decided for the euphemism in the last minute."
"I was his PA," Ianto corrected. "And back at Headquarters I was the archivist specialized for information about alien life forms. Mainframe was registered as an alien life form… and so was Jack, for that matter."
Gwen nearly swooned off the slowly sinking stone slab with shock hearing that.
"You're kidding, right? How could they! Those monsters! Jack is human, just like everyone else!"
Ianto shook his head. "How many humans do you know who can bounce back from death as if you've pushed a Reset button?"
"Shut up, Ianto!" Gwen hissed, glancing at the prince warily.
Ianto laughed. "Gwen, Jack bounced his grandmother on his knees when she was a little girl! Don't you think the royal family might have noticed his tendency to go on without aging? Besides, Torchwood has extensive files about Jack, back to the late 1980s; it's not such a huge secret as you might think. He just didn't like to speak about it."
"Why not?" the prince asked. "Because it as tactical advantage he didn't want to reveal?"
"No," Ianto said quietly. "Cos it reminded him of his losses, I believe."
In the meantime the lift hand sunk enough with them for the ceiling to close above their head, and the prince looked around himself in awe, fighting the bout of vertigo as he was looking down from his still dizzyingly high vantage point into the huge underground base of Torchwood. Yes, he was a pilot, used to great heights, but as a rule he had the safe metal body of a plane or a helicopter surrounding him. Standing on a slab of stone at such height – on a slowly moving slab of stone at that – was a different matter entirely.
"Everything all right, lieutenant?" Ianto asked, and Prince William nodded, albeit a bit shakily.
"Cool, yeah. Needs a bit of getting used to, though."
"Everyone is a bit shocked first," Ianto agreed. "But this is the fastest, most secret way in; and besides, the view is worth a bit of discomfort, don't you think?"
The prince nodded. "It's positively mind-blowing. Batcave doesn't even begin to describe it. By the way, is that an extension of the water tower on the Plass?"
"Yep. The water runs down to a filter where it's cleaned, and then returns to our own plumbing system to the surface. It can also serve as a signal booster when the phone lines are cut off for some reason," Ianto smiled at the blank look on their guest's face. "I'll give you the file number if you're interested."
"Sure," the prince, back on solid ground at last, tilted his head back to look up to the ceiling now so far above them. It was hard to believe that only moments earlier he'd been up there.
He took in the sheer size of the place with unabashed awe; how the rough stone of the ceiling gave way to smoother brickwork, the opening mechanism so cleverly hidden that he couldn't even find the lines. The metal of the handrails. Grated bridges and flooring gleamed in the artificial light; it surprised him that in spite of the openly flowing water along the massive tower and in the culverts, the air in the cavernous room was not damp or murky. Some alien technology had to be at work here, keeping the numerous computers and other sensitive machinery dry and safe.
Some working areas were separated by glass walls; others stood open. But the whole thing was one enormous, interconnected maze of Victorian and futuristic elements that seemed to work well together, despite any expectations to the contrary. It was like the dream of every adventurous little boy became reality.
"Do you think I can turn off this tie-pin now?" he asked. "I don't need to stay disguised inside the base, do I?"
"No, of course not," Ianto smiled. "Just think off; it reacts to human brainwaves."
The prince gave it a try. He couldn't feel a thing, to his mild disappointment, and there were no mirrors, but as he looked down at his hands, they looked familiar enough.
"Am I back?" he asked, a little uncertainly.
Ianto gave him a tired smile. "Don't worry, lieutenant. You're one hundred per cent your charming self again. Now, I don't know about you, but I'm seriously caffeine deprived and must do something to redeem that fact. I'll introduce you to Dr Sato, our resident computer genius; she'll give you the grand tour while I make some decent coffee."
"I can do that," Gwen volunteered eagerly. "Give the tour, you know."
"Oh, and you can also explain His Highness the importance and use of the tech all along the way?" Ianto asked dryly; it was a rhetoric question, and they both knew it. "No? Thought so. Why don't you try to catch up with your huge backlog of paperwork then and allow Tosh to do her job?"
Ignoring Gwen's angry scowl, Ianto steered the prince to the main Hub area to introduce him to the visibly nervous Tosh.
"Your Highness, please meet our head scientist, Doctor Toshiko Sato. Tosh, meet His Royal Highness, Prince William."
"I thought we agreed that you'll simply address me as lieutenant," the prince said, shaking Tosh's nerveless hand. "You may breathe in my presence, Doctor Sato," he added, flashing at her his best charming smile. "I don't bite."
"It's the red beret, sir," Ianto said in a low voice. "UNIT has a similar one as part of their uniform."
"That can be easily helped," the prince took off the offending piece of uniform, folded it and tucked it into his trouser pocket. "Better?"
Tosh just nodded mutely, risking a tremulous smile.
"I promised the lieutenant the grand tour of the base," Ianto said. "Do you think you can show him around while I make coffee?"
Tosh nodded again.
"Excellent. Has Owen come in yet?"
Tosh shook her head, still not quite in control of her voice. Ianto sighed.
"Well, I'll deal with him when he shows up. If he shows up at all. Let's hope we won't have a Rift alert while he's sleeping out his stupor. Go, have that tour with the lieutenant. We'll discuss everything else later."
In the following forty minutes Prince William was given a quick but thorough tour of the Torchwood Three base, and he was even more impressed than upon his arrival. As part of a planned yet never realised underground railway line – other parts of which had later become part of the sewer system, according to Dr Sato – the base was a labyrinth of seemingly endless tunnels and corridors, lit by bright fluorescent lights, that branched out in infinite directions.
The air down there was dry and frigid. It made his lings burn, and he buttoned up his jacket as they went.
"Don't you have any heating down here?" he asked.
Dr Sato shook her head. "No, it wouldn't be economical. The cells can be heated individually if needs must be, but we rarely have to. It's mostly just Weevils we have there, and since they live in the sewers anyway, they've long adapted to the conditions," she shrugged noncommittally, and then waved at the new branch of tunnels on her left. "Down there are the Archives, but at the moment only two people have the clearance to enter them."
"Who's that?" the prince asked curiously.
Dr Sato smiled. "Ianto and me. He's the archivist and I'm the only one with the necessary knowledge to handle alien tech. Jack had full clearance, too, of course, as he was our boss… theoretically, at least. But Ianto banned him for making a mess of his filing system and he knew better than coming down after that."
The prince felt his amusement spike. "Why? What would have been the consequences?"
"Decaf for a month," Dr Sato replied. "And believe me, nobody who's ever tasted Ianto's coffee would be stupid enough to risk that."
They both laughed. In spite of being a tea drinker by family tradition, as a pilot the prince had learned to value a life-saving cup of coffee.
"But what if somebody else needs something from the Archives?" he then asked.
"Most of the actual information is already digitalised and the database can be accessed through our workplace terminals," Dr Sato explained. "Should any other team member need an actual artefact, they just tell Ianto and he finds it for them. Not only is it much faster that way, but we're also strongly discouraged to poke around the artefacts. Well, not me, obviously, but even I have to file a report when I remove one of them to study it. Even the generally harmless ones can get us into trouble; and we can't always know just how harmless they really are. We're dealing here with technology way beyond our understanding, most of the time. And with Jack gone, it will only get worse. He recognised a lot of stuff simply because who and what he is," she gave the prince a searching look. "Are you aware of his true identity?"
"That he's from the far future and used to travel with the Doctor?" the prince clarified. "Yeah, I know that. And that he can't die and has been with Torchwood Cardiff since the late 19th century."
"He can die," Dr Sato corrected. "He does die every time, and it's every bit as painful for him than for the rest of us. He just doesn't stay dead. What's more, coming back hurts him just as much as the dying part."
"Yeah, but he does come back every time, does he?" the prince said. "So the results are the same, if not the process."
"True," Dr Sato said. "But he also used to be a Time Agent, back in the far future, so he moved around a lot, both in time and space. He saw a lot. We're gonna miss his vast experience."
"What is a Time Agent?" the prince asked.
"I'm not entirely sure," Dr Sato admitted. "As far as I could figure, out, there was – or rather will be, in another three thousand years or so – an organisation that hunts down time travellers who contaminate the timeline, in order to prevent any changes in history. Some kind of temporal Secret Service of the future, only on a galactic scale. Of course, that was before Jack would meet the Doctor. At a time when he was still mortal."
The prince nodded thoughtfully, wondering whether his grandmother had been fully ware of those ramifications when she'd appointed young Ianto Jones to take over for a two-hundred-year-old immortal (give or take a couple of decades) who'd travelled through space and time ad come from the far future.
"It's just occurred to me," he said slowly, "that this is the first time ever that Torchwood Three has to go without Captain Harkness. Save for the very first years, the Cardiff branch could always count on his knowledge and on his… special abilities. You won' have an easy time without him."
"Without him, with Owen being stone drunk most of the time and Gwen being a general menace," Dr Sato sighed. "I hope the new people Ianto is about to hire will fit in quickly. Or else we'll have a serious problem. Cardiff will have a serious problem. Right now, we would be barely able to deal with one hostile alien or two. Not to mention an alien invasion."
"Do you expect an alien invasion any time soon?" Prince William asked jokingly, trying to dissolve a bit of the tension.
Dr. Sato looked back to him with grim, haunted eyes.
"If I've learned anything during my years with Torchwood, it's to always expect the worst," she answered. "That way, the only surprises can be pleasant ones; not that we'd have had many of those since I've been here. This is a dirty job, but someone has to do it; and we all ended up here because we had no other choice. Well, save for Gwen – which is why she can't really fit in, no matter how much she wants to."
~TBC~