Chapter Five: Morning

Cardiff, Wales (UK):

Awakened by a loud banging, Bobby hauled himself up into a sitting position in the unfamiliar bed. It took several moments for him to orient himself to his surroundings and remember how he had gotten here. Liz. Jack. Bloody pterodactyls.

The knock came again.

"Dr. Chase?" he recognized Ianto's voice.

Bobby got out of the bed and fumbled in his suitcase for his bathrobe. He heard the front door opening.

"Are you awake?" Ianto called out tentatively.

"Yeah. Be right out." He pulled the terrycloth robe around his shoulders before walking into the living room.

Ianto was standing there with a warm smile and a cup of coffee. "Good morning, Sir. Coffee?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He didn't even try to match the other's cheerful tone; it was too early for congeniality. He did, however, accept the cup. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it wasn't as early as he'd originally thought; it was nearly nine-thirty. "Guess I should have set the alarm. Sorry."

"No worries."

"Thanks for letting me stay here last night," Bobby took a seat on the sofa. "I hate hotels. Hate hotel coffee," he offered up what he hoped was a more friendly smile. It was hard to read the Welshman.

"It was my pleasure, Dr. Chase." Ianto remained standing, his hands lightly clasped in front of him. "We can go shopping after we get back from Barry, if you'd like and I can show you around Cardiff a little."

Bobby looked up at him, "Are you always like this?"

"Like what, Sir?"

"Like that."

"You mean polite?" Ianto returned the baffled look.

"I mean too polite."

"Right. Well. Do you prefer Robert or Bobby, then?"

He took another long drink of coffee before telling him that Bobby would be fine.

"Doubtful you'll get Jack to call you anything else, anyway," the other man gave him a wry smile that at least seemed more relaxed.

Bobby smiled back, hoping it was a good sign. He couldn't honestly imagine what it must be like for them, having someone new come in to fill the shoes of a dead colleague. "I should get dressed," he said as he stood up. "I won't be long."

Ianto just nodded and took a seat on the sofa to wait.

"No one mentioned what time we're supposed to start in the morning," Bobby said over his shoulder as he headed into the bedroom.

"Eight o'clock, usually. But it was a late night. Jack said we should all get in a couple of extra hours' sleep."

"Remind me to thank him." Bobby hefted his suitcase up onto the bed and thumbed through his work shirts, realizing that he had no idea what he should wear in to his official first day of work. "What kind of dress code does Jack enforce?" he called out to the living room.

"You have seen the way he dresses, right?" Ianto replied with an audible grin.

"Yeah. But then there's you." Bobby pulled out the plain blue dress shirt he usually wore with either the blue striped tie or the plain yellow one, and the striped shirt that he liked better because it was more comfortable because it was softer cotton. Neither shirt would make any difference to his current patient, but he wanted to make a better first impression than he figured he'd made last night.

"What Gwen showed up in last night is typical of her work attire," Ianto answered his question. His voice seemed louder, like he was standing by the door.

"I take it ties are optional?" he asked. If Gwen's T-shirt and jeans were any indication of typical 'office' attire, he could probably get away with just about anything in his suitcase. He noticed that there had been a longer than expected silence on the other end of the conversation. "Ianto?" He poked his head out the bedroom door. The younger man was leaning up against the wall next to it, politely facing away from the bedroom.

"Sorry. Owen never wore a tie. I'm not even certain he owned more than one dress shirt." He smiled then, probably at some memory, or maybe a collection of them, then turned to Bobby. "Whatever you want to wear is fine, honestly. Although I would suggest more than that unless you want Jack hovering around you all day."

Bobby chuckled. "Mind if I ask how long you two've been… I'm sorry is dating the right word?" he ducked back into the bedroom.

"It has been for a while. About a year, I suppose. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," Bobby chose the striped shirt because it was comfortable but decided to wear a tie because he didn't want to remind the rest of them too much of their deceased colleague. The temptation for causal proved too much and he slipped into a pair of faded jeans instead of dress slacks. The dark blue jacket made him feel better about the image he'd present when interviewing some poor woman whose father had been reduced to a pile of ash. He stepped out of the bedroom, "Acceptable?"

"Quite."

He headed for the bathroom across the hall to shave and brush his teeth.

"Did you know Jack well, then? In London, I mean," Ianto asked.

"Not as well as he would've liked," he shot the Welshman a smile in the mirror as he unpacked his toiletries.

Ianto's only response was a soft laugh.

"You really aren't the jealous type, are you?"

"I've my moments," Ianto admitted, "But there's not much point to being jealous where Jack is concerned. It's not as if he's going to change."

"I guess not. I won't be much longer."

"Take your time." Ianto wandered back towards the living room to give the other man some privacy. He certainly didn't like to shave with Jack hovering over him, although that had more to do with what the other man could be like when they were standing together half naked in the bathroom.

Ianto found himself smiling when he thought about the last few weeks living with Jack. In some ways it was the most extraordinary thing that had ever happened to him, and yet at the same time it was so incredibly normal to share all the little moments of his life with the man he loved. As long as one doesn't dwell on the pet pterodactyl we have flying around… He looked up as the blond Australian emerged from the bathroom, clean shaven and with his hair still falling around his face. "Ready?" Ianto got back to his feet.

"As I'll ever be."

"Good. Here, before I forget," he reached into his inner jacket pocket and handed over an envelope.

"What's this?"

"ID, proof of medical license, drivers' licence, and a small advance on your first pay to help you settle in," he explained as the other man thumbed through the contents of the envelope.

Bobby flipped through the ID's; there was the one he'd expected that identified him as a Torchwood employee, but there were also several others. "What's with all this? Gas, phone, electric, building code inspector?" That one seemed the least credible, although it looked completely authentic.

Ianto gave him a wry grin, "One never knows when one will need to employ a bit of subterfuge in order to gain access somewhere."

"But a building code inspector?" he asked again, following Ianto out of the apartment.

"Saying you're with Torchwood is good for dealing with the police and military, but sometimes it's best not to tell the average person that you're looking for the alien that's eaten their cat. Better to say you need to check for a crack in the foundation."

"Which I suppose is still better than just breaking in," Bobby replied. Ianto was giving him a look. "You wouldn't believe how many patients' homes I had to break into for my old boss."

"I had no idea practicing medicine in the States involved breaking and entering."

"It all depends on who you work for." They'd reached the street. Bobby held up the drivers' licence. "So does this mean I can drive?"

"If you'd like," Ianto surrendered the keys to his car without flinching.

"You're serious?" he hadn't expected a 'yes.'

"My insurance is paid up."

Bobby looked at him, "I'm really a registered driver in the UK? No paperwork, no nothing?"

"Jack calls it the beauty of the computer age. Anything can be altered with a few strokes of the keys. I've also taken the liberty of removing your name from the UNIT list. Can't have them ringing you up in the middle of the next alien invasion and expecting you to lend them a hand."

Bobby chuckled wryly; he could imagine Jack's reaction if they did.

Ianto climbed into the passenger side. He handed Bobby the new, black, compact mobile phone he'd left sitting in the centre console. "Most American models don't work in Europe." he explained. "I've programmed in our numbers. Gwen's husband Rhys does know what we do, by the way, but in general it's best not to tell friends and family that you catch aliens for a living."

"Gosh, I can't imagine why."

Ianto gave what looked like an approving smile to his sarcastic tone. "Would you like me to go ahead and program the numbers from your old phone in for you while you drive?"

"No. Thanks."

The younger man him a questioning look.

"I said my goodbyes before I left," he said as he took a moment to become acquainted with the car before trying to pull out into traffic; driving on the opposite of the road would take some getting used to. "And like you said, it's not like I can tell anyone I'm catching aliens for a living." He didn't mean for his tone to be so dark; it wasn't the secretiveness of his new job that bothered him.

If Ianto thought anything of his tone, he gave no indication. "Whenever you're ready, then," he nodded to indicate that the street was clear. "You'll be making a left at the first corner. I've also picked up some real estate brochures for you. You're welcome to my flat as long as you like of course," he added. "But I thought you might want to check out some of the new apartments that just opened up in the city centre."

"Is there anything you don't think of?"

"Not usually."

Bobby gave him another look, but it didn't seem as if the other man was kidding.

They spent the remainder of the thirty minute drive engaged in small talk, which quickly turned into a discussion about bowling. By the time they were pulling up to the home of Miller's daughter, Ms. Priscilla Doyle, it had been agreed that as soon as this business was settled, Torchwood was going to have another bowling night.

"Although I should warn you," Bobby said with a wry grin, "My best score is something like 290, and I never bowl less than 260."

"Looks like we're evenly matched then," Ianto countered with a grin of his own.

Robert laughed. "So, what's the standard procedure here?" he asked as he slid out of the car.

"I don't think we've ever established one."

"Right." Just like with House. Wing it. He noticed that another car was pulling up across the street; a couple in their thirties got out and made their way towards Doyle's front porch, seeming oblivious of he and Ianto. The woman was carrying a casserole dish.

"There's a grey case in the trunk," Ianto told him.

Bobby gave him a look.

"Consider it an emergency field kit," he flashed a wry smile.

"There really isn't anything you don't think of, is there?"

"Well I have managed to keep Jack on his toes for almost two years now."

……………………………………………………

Princeton, NJ (USA):

Allison looked out her living room window at the pre-dawn gloom. Somewhere beyond the city was the Atlantic Ocean and somewhere beyond that was Robert. What was he doing, she wondered. Having coffee with new colleagues maybe? Or was he taking a couple of days off to adjust to a new country? No, he's probably working, she thought. She just wished she knew doing what.

She sat down at her computer and searched for the Torchwood Institute again, and again she came up with nothing. House was right; the place didn't exist.

But it had to exist. She'd seen the letter they sent Robert.

"I'm just letting House get to me," she said aloud. "Just like always." Of course Torchwood existed. They had a letterhead. A phone number. Just no website.

She went back to the people-search web page and typed in the name Jack Harkness.

Nothing.

Jones. Ianto Jones. There were a million Joneses in Wales. She narrowed it down to the city of Cardiff. "Slightly less than a million, anyway," Allison sighed. It was still too many to go and call all of them. "Which would be completely obsessive," she told herself.

She stared at the screen until her coffee was cold. "Ok, this is stupid." But before shutting down her computer, she sent Robert a short email. After all, even if she'd broken up with him, there was nothing wrong with wanting to know that his plane had landed safely or to tell him where she'd left his house key. "Common courtesy." She assured herself. Civility between former colleagues. "I'm sure he'd do the same thing if he were me."

………………………………………………….

Barry, Wales (UK):

With just a little charm, Ianto persuaded Priscilla Doyle to give them a few minutes of her time away from her guests. Bobby noted the way the Welshman didn't actually say where they were from, just that they were investigating her father's death and needed to ask a few questions. She led them into a neat little kitchen decorated in shades of mauve and peach. She offered them a seat at the table, apologizing for the dishes still dirty in the sink. "I just haven't had the strength this morning"

"No apologies necessary, Ma'am," Ianto told her in a kind tone. "Would you mind if my colleague has a look around the premises?" he inquired further, ignoring the slightly panicked look Bobby shot him.

"I don't see how that would help," Doyle objected, although only mildly. She was a woman of thirty something, married and divorced, the mother of two daughters, and on the whole just as unremarkable as her father. "My father hardly ever visited here."

"We never really know what's going to help," Ianto countered smoothly. "Assuming you've nothing you'd object to us finding, that is," he added with a calculated look as he flipped open one of those little notebooks like the kind police often used. It really was amazing what people would assume if you let them.

"No, of course not."

"Well then, Dr. Chase…?"

"Right." Bobby's smile seemed forced even to him. He made his way into the next room, trying to decide what he should do. To buy himself some time, he wove his way through the living room glancing at the collection of very ordinary looking photos and books on the shelves. There was one shelf dedicated solely to school awards, the show place of a proud mother, but it hardly seemed interesting or alien.

Six people sat in the living room with him, all looking mildly uncomfortable to have a stranger inspecting the details of the room. He looked them over as well, although tried to be surreptitious about it. Nothing jumped out at him as weird or alien about them, either.

However somehow I don't think it's ever as easy as having 'Made on Mars' stamped on somebody's forehead.

He picked up a picture of Harold Miller in healthier days laughing with a pair of girls on a beach somewhere.

"That was last summer, Detective," said a voice at his elbow. It belonged to woman of about twenty with short dark hair, deep red lips, and a little too much eye make up for his taste. "That's Maggie and Pippa," she pointed out each in turn; Maggie was the fairer haired, younger looking of the two, seven or eight, Bobby guessed. Lauren looked about twelve.

"They're lovely girls. And I'm a doctor, by the way, not a detective," he corrected her with a polite smile, putting the photo back on the shelf. "Bobby Chase," he added; Ianto hadn't hesitated to use their real names, and every piece of ID the Welshman had provided him with bore his real name as well, so it seemed appropriate.

"And you're Australian," she smiled a smile he was familiar with; most American women liked his accent, too.

"You caught me, I'm Aussie," he grinned back at her, trying to recall if he'd ever actually used that term to refer to himself before. Or at least before House.

"What are you looking for, then Dr. Bobby Chase from Australia?"

He gave a shrug, "Just looking around."

"Is it true that Mr. Miller was murdered?"

"Rhianna!" An older woman chided in a sharp tone. "Let the man do his job."

"I just asked a question."

"Did you know Mr. Miller?" Bobby asked Rhianna.

"Not really. He'd only come around when the girls had a birthday, or maybe at Christmas." She lowered her voice, "I don't think he and Ms. Doyle got on."

"Rhianna!" the older woman overheard anyway. The rest of the guests were pretending not to notice, especially the couple who had brought the casserole.

Bobby ignored them, "Do you know the family well?" he pressed Rhianna.

"I used to babysit for the girls. I still do when I'm home on holiday. We live just up the way," she gave the older woman a dark look, essentially confirming Bobby's suspicions that they were mother and daughter.

"Where are the girls now?" he asked.

"Probably in their rooms. This has hit them really hard."

"I'd like to meet them. Would you mind?"

"I hardly think Priscilla would approve," the mother countered.

"Well she's not here, is she?" He shot a calculated wink at Rhianna who stifled a laugh. He could feel guilty about flirting with a twenty-something university student later. He wasn't even sure there was anything to feel guilty over. It wasn't as if he was seeing someone.

……………………………………………..

"Girls…?" Priscilla Doyle put in an appearance shortly after Bobby got into their room. Bobby had no doubt that Rhianna's mother had run for her as soon as Rhianna lead him upstairs. Ianto was just behind Doyle.

"I was showing Dr. Chase a picture I drew of Grandpa," Pippa told her mother, showing it to her as well.

"That's very sweet…" Priscilla Doyle faltered.

Bobby caught Ianto's eye, "The girls were just telling me about some of the walks along the beach their grandfather used to take them on. A couple of weeks ago they found some crystals."

"Just coloured glass," their mother corrected. "Really girls, you shouldn't go telling stories." Priscilla sounded embarrassed. "I really have to get back to my guests."

"We can see ourselves out," Ianto told her.

"I… I really should…"

"I don't mind sitting with the girls a few minutes, Ms. Doyle," Rhianna offered. Bobby suspected she was more interested in sitting with him, but there was something flattering about having a girl ten years his junior flirting with him.

"I… really… well… all right. But just a few minutes," Doyle glanced Bobby and Ianto each in turn. "It's been a very hectic morning."

Bobby didn't' miss the exasperated look Rhianna couldn't quite keep off her face. Despite his suspicions about her motives, he shot her a smile of gratitude for helping them get the mother to go away, and turned his attention back to the crystals Maggie had stored in an old cigar box along with some seashells and a pressed flower. All treasures from her walks with her grandfather. "Those are very pretty," he said to Maggie pointing to the translucent stones. They definitely didn't look like anything he'd seen before, except at Miller's place. He remembered something similar but larger sitting on the kitchen windowsill… but I'm not exactly a rock expert, he reminded himself. For the first time, he wished he'd paid just a little attention to Allison's crazy friend Heather, the one who was into crystals and herbs and all kinds of other weird stuff. "Do you remember where exactly you found them?"

"By the old man tree," Pippa chimed in. "That's what we called it. It's just past the big rock. On the island," she added.

Bobby glanced at Rhianna wondering if she might have a better idea, but she shook her head; apparently their names didn't mean anything to her either. "Do you mind if I take a closer look at them?" he asked the child.

She shook her head, silently giving him permission to go ahead.

Carefully, he picked up one of the stones; it was cool to the touch and smooth. Maybe it really was just coloured glass.

"We should probably get going," Ianto suggested.

Bobby nodded, "Well, thank you for talking to us," he said to both Pippa and Maggie. He stood up and cast a slight smile to Rhianna, too.

"Like I said, we live just up the way," Rhianna said with a smile of her own.