17. Brains

Rhys Williams sat at a tall table in the back of the pub, nursing his pint as he watched the match playing on a nearby television. He was still taking the painkillers prescribed by the doctor Gwen worked with…what was his name? Owen…and knew he'd have to go easy on the beer, but had decided to enjoy at least one or two pints of Brains. He glanced around the room, wondering when his appointment would arrive, and was relieved to see him walk through the door at that very moment.

Ianto Jones waved and pointed toward the bar; Rhys shook his head held up his glass, the other man nodded, and headed off to get a drink for himself. Rhys half thought the man would come back with a fancy martini to match the posh suit and Burberry overcoat, but Ianto joined him with a pint of Brains as well, and Rhys felt that whatever Ianto wanted to talk to him about would go much smoother for it.

The other man took off his coat, shaking the rain from the hair, and held out his hand to Rhys. "Thanks for meeting me," Ianto said. "I appreciate you coming out in this weather."

"This?" Rhys scoffed, glancing at the window, where the wind whipped the rain in sheets. "I've driven through the mountains in far worse. Just a squall."

Ianto shook his head with a smile. "Spoken like a true Welshman!" he said. They clicked glasses and took a long sip.

"How's your shoulder?" Ianto asked. Rhys rolled it a few times.

"Stiff and sore, which is why I'm still wearing the sling, but whatever your Dr. Harper gave me seems to be helping."

"Alien drugs usually do," Ianto murmured, watching him over the rim of his glass. He still had a bruise on his face from his own scuffles at the warehouse, and his wrists were red from where he'd been tied up. Rhys couldn't help but glance around and lean forward.

"Are you serious? You lot gave me alien drugs?"

Ianto's normally serious face split into a grin. "No, I'm taking the piss. We do have some advanced medical technology and a few other things we use as needed, but so far we haven't discovered the cure for pain. He probably just gave you the good Earth-based drugs we keep on hand for serious injuries."

Rhys nodded. "See a lot, then?" he asked. "Of serious injuries?"

Ianto shrugged. "It's a dangerous line of work," he said. "Which makes the occasional bump and bruise inevitable."

"Gwen's come home with quite a few over the last year," Rhys said. "And every time, I wondered what she'd got herself into. But she told me she was fine, that it was worth it." He met Ianto's gaze straight on. "Is it worth it?" he asked.

Ianto traced a water mark on the table as he seemed to think about it. "In the end, yes," he finally said. "But it requires a lot of sacrifice."

"Like what?" asked Rhys, curious about the other man's sudden turn of mood. Ianto seemed to study him before replying.

"Everything," he said bluntly. "Both literally and figuratively. We give up our normal lives so that everyone else can live theirs." He took a sip from his glass and tipped it toward Rhys. "And in some ways, you just sacrificed yours."

"My what?" asked Rhys. "My life?"

"Your normal," said Ianto. "Your sense of what's right and good, what's possible and impossible. You may not be out there chasing aliens with Gwen, but you know what she's doing now when she's called out in the middle of the night, when she comes home with more bumps and bruises."

Rhys shook his head. "Doesn't matter," he said firmly. "We'll make a new normal. I'd rather know the truth than be left in the dark. To be honest, I'm still bothered she never told me about any of this."

"She was bound by the Official Secrets Act," said Ianto, raising an eyebrow. "And I imagine she didn't want to worry you."

"I worried anyway," said Rhys. "At least now I know why, and she can talk to me about it if she needs to. Before, she was always talking around whatever was bothering her, apologizing for keeping secrets. Now I know."

"Now you know," said Ianto, nodding slowly. "And what do we do about that?"

Rhys set down his pint glass in surprise. "What do you mean, what do you do about that? What can you do? I was there, I saw it all!"

Ianto was silent for a moment. "Has Gwen told you about Retcon?" he asked.

Rhys shook his head. "No, she hasn't. She said your boss wasn't very happy about me being in the loop now, but I don't know what you lot can do about it, besides make me disappear."

Ianto grinned, but this time it was a cool, calculating one, not open and friendly. "We could," he agreed. "We do it all the time—cover things up. If the truth were to get out about some of the things we see and do, there would likely be mass panic."

"So you lie," Rhys said with a snort. "Gwen said you lied about what those men did, what was happening at the warehouse, that poor creature they were torturing."

"Do you think it should have been on the evening news?" Ianto asked. "Do you think the world should know about aliens and rifts in time and all the other things we protect them from?"

Rhys thought about it, but it was an easy question to answer. "Of course not. Like you said, people would panic, probably riot. You do what you have to do, and the rest of us poor sods live in blissful ignorance. Cheers!" He raised his glass to Ianto and finished it.

"You're a remarkable man, Rhys," said Ianto, his face relaxing, his smile friendly once more. "It took Gwen months to realize that about Torchwood, and sometimes I think she still doesn't understand."

"She's a stubborn minx, my Gwen," Rhys said fondly. He wasn't surprised by Ianto's statement, nor was he offended. Gwen had been talking nonstop about Torchwood since they'd left the base three days earlier, and it had not been difficult to pick up on her feelings about working for the secret organization. She loved it—too much, Rhys thought—yet at the same time, she often disagreed with what they did and how they did it.

"She keeps us on our toes," Ianto murmured. He motioned for two more pints and continued. "We have ways of making people forget what they see, the things we do. It's called Retcon. It's a tiny pill that reprograms one's memory so that the aliens they saw become wild animals, or the spaceship becomes an airplane."

Rhys stared at the table as Ianto slid a small white pill toward him. "This is a level 2 pill. It will wipe out the past week, so that you have no memory of the warehouse, the Hub, the space whale. Nothing."

"What?" Rhys exclaimed. Ianto covered the pill as the barmaid brought them another drink. When she'd left, Rhys leaned forward. "Are you telling me you're going to wipe my memory? That everything I saw, everything I did, becomes nothing more than a made up story?"

"Possibly," said Ianto. He uncovered the pill and tapped the table.

"How would you explain a bloody bullet wound?" Rhys demanded. "That's a bit hard to cover up!"

Ianto shrugged. "You were a victim of an armed robbery and tried to fight back. It's not unheard of, and the police records would be easy to fake."

"No," said Rhys. "I don't want to forget, and Gwen would never accept it. She can't stop talking about Torchwood now. She's been holding back for a year, unable to tell me anything – you can't take that away from her! She needs it!"

"Yes, she probably does," Ianto nodded in agreement. He pointed at the pill. "Which is why it's your choice."

"What?" asked Rhys again, thoroughly confused by the rapid changes in conversation and mood. "My choice? What is this, the bloody Matrix?"

"Not quite," Ianto replied with a chuckle. "I could never pull off Laurence Fishburne's leather coat. But I am offering you a similar choice: take the pill, and return to your normal life. Don't take the pill, and you're stuck down the rabbit hole with the rest of us."

"That's easy," Rhys replied immediately. "I—"

Ianto held up a hand. "Let me finish. Knowing about Torchwood is a dark, sometimes difficult responsibility. You will be held to the same standards as Gwen and asked to sign the OSA as a reminder. In our case, that means any violation, even the smallest slip, may result in criminal prosecution and a sentence that could include imprisonment, extradition, or execution." He paused, and when Rhys was silent, continued.

"More importantly, it means you stay quiet for Gwen's sake. No telling stories at the pub, because anything you say or do can put her life at stake, and possibly ours as well." Rhys opened his mouth, but Ianto held up a hand, and for the first time since the conversation had started, Rhys had the impression of steely strength and determination from the other man. He was clearly more than a clever young administrator in a fancy suit.

Gwen had often dismissed Ianto Jones when she'd started at Torchwood, referring to him as their glorified butler. Her opinion had quickly changed, however. Rhys suspected that the man had suffered a terrible tragedy not long after Gwen had started, for she'd shown a great deal of sympathy toward him after that. It had grown into deep respect, tempered with occasional disagreements during the months when Jack had been gone. Sometimes he even caught a hint of jealousy in Gwen's voice when she talked about Ianto, though he wasn't sure what that was about. But everything else…just a few minutes alone with Ianto Jones, and Rhys felt he understood the man much better.

Ianto Jones was clearly a man to be wary of. He was calm, competent, and calculating. He knew how to intimidate and manipulate, and he clearly knew how to fight, given his performance at the warehouse. He could wipe a man's memory, make him disappear, and fake any record of it he needed to. Rhys knew he didn't have a chance if Ianto Jones decided he needed to forget everything about Torchwood.

"I don't want to Retcon you," Ianto said, leaning closer. He was both intense and sincere. "You proved yourself at the warehouse, and I think Gwen needs to be able to talk about what she does with someone. You may not know this, but Jack and Gwen had quite the confrontation over you." Sitting back, he smiled, but for the first time, Rhys saw a bitter tint to his expression. "Which is not unusual, really. They're always arguing over something."

"But this time it was about me," Rhys said. He was nervous about the direction of the conversation. He liked Ianto Jones, but the man scared the hell out of him with his twists and turns, even more than Jack Harkness.

Ianto nodded. "I came here to make sure what was decided in the heat of the moment was the right decision. It's not just Gwen's job on the line, but her life—and not just her life, but ours and every other person in Cardiff whom we work to protect. I need to be sure you understand the seriousness of the situation, Rhys, and what you're getting yourself into."

Rhys had had enough. He leaned forward and poked his finger in the other man's face. "You listen here. I went undercover to stop an alien meat operation for you. For Gwen. I took a bullet for her. I have spent three days with her hovering over me and talking about nothing but bloody Torchwood. So if you think I'm going to give that up, that I'm going to go back to being the ignorant fiancé that Gwen can't talk to at the end of a bad day, you're wrong." He took a breath to finish. "I'm not going to blab, I'm not going to breathe a word to anyone. Because I love her, and I would never put her in danger just so I could run my mouth at the pub."

Ianto raised an eyebrow and smirked. He took a sip of his drink and nodded. "What did you tell your mates about your arm?" he asked.

"Told 'em I hurt it lifting a shipment out of one my trucks," Rhys replied defiantly. Ianto nodded.

"Good. Did they press you?"

"Not really, because I shrugged off any more questions until they left it alone. Good enough for you?"

The other man's face broke into a grin. "I think so. You've restored my faith in Welsh common sense and dignity. And you're doing a good thing for Gwen."

Rhys let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "So that means…what? That I can…"

"Keep your memory," Ianto replied. "I'll need you to sign some paperwork, and you'll be monitored for a while, to make sure you adhere to your agreement. Sound all right?"

Rhys nodded slowly. "Sounds brilliant. My heart is still racing, though. I thought I was a goner for a second there!"

Ianto finished his pint and set it down, pocketing the white pill he'd left on the table. "I had no intention of wiping your memory. This is just paracetamol."

"Bloody hell," Rhys murmured. "You're a wily bastard, you know."

"Thank you," said Ianto, standing and pulling on his coat. He pulled a ten pound note and some coins from his wallet and left them on the table. "In this line of work, I'll take it as a compliment." He nodded at the table. "Should cover it. Thanks again, Rhys."

"Thank you," said Rhys. "We should do this again sometime."

Ianto cocked his head to the side. "Lie to, threaten, and intimidate one another?" he asked, but he was clearly holding back a grin.

"Meet for a pint," said Rhys. "I wouldn't mind asking some more questions about this stuff, and you seem like the one most likely to answer them honestly."

"Really?" asked Ianto, genuinely surprised. "All right, then. Anytime, Rhys."

"Great," said Rhys, standing to shake the man's hand. "I appreciate it."

"Take care of that shoulder," said Ianto. "I'll see you around."

Rhys nodded and watched him head out into the storm. He wondered why Gwen was always going on about Jack and Owen when Ianto Jones seemed like a much more sensible sort of bloke. He liked the younger man even if Ianto somewhat terrified him. Torchwood could probably use more good Welshman like Ianto Jones. Finishing his pint, Rhys looked forward to having another with him someday, hopefully without the need for Retcon.

Author's Note:

Way more than a drabble, but I couldn't help it – Rhys and Ianto can be brilliant fun together!