Part 5
Cardiff, September 2004

Toshiko looked between Owen and Jack, before stepping closer to the man laid out on the autopsy table. She'd been down to the quarantine room a couple of times in the last few weeks and had been watching the CCTV feed of Ianto's room, but this was actually the closest she'd been to the young man since they'd found him. He looked very different now. A heavy growth of beard on his face, his nails far too long. When she'd last been this close his face had been covered in mud and soot.

Once more she looked over her shoulder at the two other men in the room. Owen was stood in the pit with her, Jack on the raised edge, looking down at her. They weren't looking at each other. The tension in the room was practically twanging. Of course she knew why, she'd been bombarded with their argument the moment she'd stumbled through the door into the hub twenty minutes ago, having been called in four hours early by a less than well humoured Jack.

From the sniping and bitching she'd managed to piece it together. Owen hadn't bothered to close the door to the quarantine room properly, so the auto-lock hadn't kicked in. The auto-lock she'd installed for the express purpose of keeping their guest inside his room until they could get to him should he wake up. The thought behind that was that finding ones-self locked in a room would be less frightening and overwhelming than getting lost in the tunnels, or wondering blindly into the central hub. Granted there was some extremely dangerous, not to mention classified tech scattered all over their headquarters, so for Ianto's safety she'd agreed with the plan, but she wasn't convinced by the less frightening argument. She'd woken up in a locked room herself more mornings than she liked to remember, and each and every time had been almost soul-destroying.

So Jack was annoyed with Owen for that, but Owen was annoyed at Jack for something else entirely. Apparently, although she couldn't quite work out how, Jack had managed to miss the alerts they'd set up to sound if Ianto's condition changed, and by the time he did notice and call Owen, Ianto was already out of his room and loose in the tunnels.

"I still don't understand why you need me. You said you sedated him." Tosh asked, her hand unconsciously coming to rest on the Ianto's shoulder.

"Yeah well, we wouldn't have needed you if captain intimidating over there hadn't scared the living daylights out of the poor sod. By the time I got here he was in the middle of full blown panic attack and then he passed out." Owen huffed, shooting a glare at Jack who glared back. "I'm no psychiatrist, but I doubt waking up and seeing either of us is going to be all that good for his mental health. And for the record, I only gave him a mild sedative to keep him out until you got here. Under normal circumstances drugging him is the last thing I'd have done. He's already convinced we're trying to hurt him, this is not going to help."

She saw his point, but what was she meant to do? "So what do I do? Surely Suzie would be..."

Jack made stifled noise of incredulity and Owen snorted with a shake of his head. "We want to calm him down, not scare him into a coma." Owen sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Look, it's a bit like with Tommy. He responded well enough to you didn't he?"

Tosh shrugged one shoulder in agreement, but the doubtful expression remained on her face.

Owen huffed and lifted the syringe in his hand. "We don't have time for this. I've kept him sedated longer than I wanted to already, so just do your best, I'm waking him up now whether you're ready or not."

"No pressure" Tosh mumbled herself, as she watched Owen slide the needle under Ianto's skin, wincing in sympathy even though she knew the unconscious man couldn't feel it. Turning back to Ianto, she plastered what she hoped was a reassuring look onto her face and waited for him to wake up.

"There." Owen said from behind her, backing away. "Hopefully he should wake up gradually, so he won't be too much trouble."

It didn't take long, and soon enough bleary blue eyes fluttered open. Toshiko opened her mouth to say something, but never got the chance. On the table Ianto jerked violently and made an incoherent shout of fright, eyes wide.

Hands braced on Ianto's shoulders, Tosh found it took surprisingly little effort to hold the much larger man down. Keeping her voice soft, she tried to sooth him. "Shh...It's alright! It's alright. Shhh... It's ok. Calm down. No one's going to hurt you... shhh... take deep breaths."

Slowly he began to calm, his attempts to get out of Tosh's hold lessening as his breathing steadied out. He wasn't any less frightened though, Tosh could see that clearly in his face. His eyes were tight with pain, fear and confusion.

"Who are you?" He finally said, his voice choked.

Tosh offered him a soft smile. "My name's Toshiko. I'm not going to hurt you. We want to help you."

More confusion creased youthful features. "Help me?"

"You... you had an accident. You were hurt. But you're safe now. We're trying to help you." Tosh explained as best she could, unsure exactly what at this point she should say. It wasn't like they had a protocol for things like this.

"Who's we?"

~Tw~wT~

Torchwood. That's what Toshiko had said they were called. Such a strange name. Meaningless. It didn't tell him anything. But that's what Toshiko had said their organisation was called, and he believed her purely based on the fact that the name seemed to be stamped on everything in the room.

Ianto stared blankly ahead as the last few hours rattled around his brain.

Had it been hours? He wasn't sure. It felt like it. And yet it felt like seconds as well. It was all too fast; whirling around him in a mass of confusion and strangeness. Waking up, making his way to that strange chamber. The two men. Waking up again, in the white tiled room. Toshiko.

She'd been there when he woke up again. She'd talked to him. She had a kind smile and friendly eyes. She kept telling him they didn't want to hurt him, and he wished he could believe her but she never quite answered his questions. He didn't want to ask again. They'd proved they could keep him for now, proved they didn't care. He'd seen guns. Better to keep quiet.

Now he sat on the bed; no it wasn't a bed, it was a slab, a cold metal slab. He could feel the cold of it through the thin fabric of his hospital gown, chilling his backside and thighs. Cold like the air around his bare feet and arms. The only part of him that felt warm was his right hand, which Toshiko held in hers. She'd squeeze it gently every now and then and as strange as it was to have a complete stranger hold his hand he was grateful for it. Small comforts.

"It's alright. You can trust us." She'd said.

Trust them? Why would he trust them? But he didn't say it out loud. He didn't know what they would do, how they'd react. So when they asked him to sit up, he had, even though it had hurt and all he wanted was to lie down and sleep, hopefully to wake up and have this nightmare disappear.

A sting shot through his left hand and he looked up sharply, finding himself caught in a cool gaze. Dr Owen Harper. One of the two men he'd met in the huge chamber. The one who swore a lot. He currently had Ianto's left hand in his, and was wrapping a bandage around it.

"Sorry." The doctor muttered, sounding only vaguely sincere. Another tug on the bandage, and he let go. "All done."

"Well?"

A second male voice, and Ianto started. He'd almost managed to forget the other man was there, standing in what appeared to be the entrance to the room, leaning on the railing. Captain Jack Harkness. That's how he'd introduced himself. The first man he'd met in the chamber. The one who'd told him they couldn't let him go. It was clear he was in charge. His voice was clipped, firm and brooking no argument. Ianto didn't know if the man was just currently annoyed or was always like that but he couldn't help his reaction. Captain Jack Harkness scared the pants off him.

Instead of answering the Captain, Owen kept his back to him and faced Ianto instead. The Welshman got the feeling there had been some kind of discussion going on above his head he hadn't been privy to. "Well considering you've had a run around the tunnels and taken a tumble in the hub you're in pretty good nick. A few scrapes and bruises, nothing that won't heal in a few days. You'll need to keep that hand dry, let the skin heal. Oh and you might find it stings a bit when you pee. Price you pay for yanking out a catheter I'm afraid, just be grateful you didn't cause any permanent damage."

"Thanks." Ianto found himself saying, manners breaking through even when he didn't really feel like being thankful at all. Swallowing stiffly, he looked at the doctor, quickly flicked his eyes up at the Captain, then settled them on Toshiko. "So, does that mean I can go? You'll let me go now?"

Toshiko opened her mouth to reply, her face apologetic, but the words came from the raised walkway in a decidedly American twang.

"No."

Ianto looked up about to make some kind of protest or plea he wasn't sure, but the Captain cut him off.

"You're too much of a risk."

"A risk? I'm not a risk... I haven't done anything wrong." Ianto shook his head in confusion and denial, once more looking between the three people and as he did so he caught Toshiko looking up at the Captain and getting a nod in return.

"Ianto..." Toshiko began, and when Ianto just stared at her she gave him a sympathetic look. "What's the last thing you remember, before waking up here?"

What was the last thing he remembered? His head felt fuzzy, but then it came to him. "I was in the cemetery, I was about to leave."

"Nothing else after that?" Toshiko asked him gently, squeezing his hand. Ianto shook his head. "Alright, I need to explain some things to you, it's going to sound strange alright, but you need to trust me."

~Tw~wT~

One of the advantages of an organisation like Torchwood is that they had access to the best possible technology. One of the disadvantages of having the best possible technology was that at that current moment it was allowing Jack to see in crystal clarity the effects of confinement on a frightened and confused young Welshman.

Sat in his office, his feet up on the desk, Jack rubbed his chin absently as he stared at the monitor on the wall, his eyes never leaving the huddled form in the middle of the bed on the screen. He'd sent the others home early; Tosh and Owen since they were clearly exhausted, and Suzie because one more mention of Torchwood One or UNIT having better facilities to look after Ianto and Jack wasn't sure he wouldn't hit her.

He knew it wasn't her fault really. She was pragmatic, it was one of the reasons he'd recruited her in the first place, and she wasn't wrong. Torchwood One did have better facilities. They had a hospital. They had research laboratories and all kinds of scientists on the payroll. UNIT also had a whole plethora of resources at their disposal, not just a ratty old store-room, an over-worked medic and a nervous genius.

He just couldn't do it. For all Suzie's pragmatism, she didn't know Torchwood One like he did. She knew why he'd cut ties to their sister (much bigger sister) office, but not the kinds of details he knew. Unless she saw it for herself, experienced it, lived with it, she would never truly understand why Jack wouldn't subject even his worst enemy to their tender mercies, let alone a scared kid who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

UNIT weren't nearly as bad. If they themselves couldn't work out The Pattern, then Jack knew that sending Ianto to UNIT was a very real option. It had to be a last resort though. UNIT was so large Jack knew exactly what would happen to a kid like Ianto there. He'd get lost. Just another number in the system. Just another something they had to deal with. Clinical, impersonal, anonymous. That was UNIT. He'd trust them to look after the population, but not a single person.

He wasn't sure why that bothered him so much. But it did. Maybe it was curiosity; the intrigue of finding something completely new. Maybe it was guilt. He thought about all those poor lost souls at Flat Holm that he couldn't help. That no-one could help, and other than him, no-one seemed to want to try. Victims of the rift that his predecessors would have happily left to rot in the vaults, while he turned a blind eye because it was all he'd been able to do.

Ianto wasn't like them. He wasn't damaged in the way the people on that island were. He was, at least as far as Owen could tell, sound of mind and body. Apart from The Pattern of course. Under any other circumstances the solution would be simple; Retcon him and send him back to his life. These weren't any other circumstances though were they? No, the only option they had was to keep Ianto until they could at least determine if he was a threat. And if he was a threat, then they'd have to find a way to neutralise him.

Jack closed his eyes, remembering the fear in Ianto's eyes. The betrayal; that look someone got when they realised another human being would refuse their plea for aid. There was an old expression - Either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. He was the villain now. He'd rebuilt Torchwood Three to help people, and now he found himself a jailor. Found himself facing the same demon he'd raged against for a century. He'd stolen a young man out of his life and was keeping him locked up against his will. Even when he set out to help people, he had to face the prospect of being judge jury and executioner. All for the greater good.

How Jack hated that phrase. Hated the coldness of it. Hated the truth of it. Some things just had to be done, and some people had to shoulder that responsibility. At least when he'd followed orders for 'the greater good' he could pretend to have no choice. Now he had to accept the choice was truly his and his alone.

Not that he would make it differently. And perhaps that was the worst admission of them all.

Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose, unsure where the deep, dark musings were coming from tonight. He usually didn't suffer clashes of conscience like this. He had to stop thinking of Ianto like a victim. He might well be one, but at the same time he might not be. He could be some kind of sleeper agent, or could in fact be a fully aware alien who'd hijacked Ianto Jones' body and was a damned good actor. He could be dangerous without even knowing it. Who knew what The Pattern had done, and was still doing to him.

"Best case scenario? All that energy dissipates on its own and we can retcon him, stick him in a hospital with some fake story of a car accident and coma, and he goes back to his normal life. Worst case scenario? He turns into a human bomb capable of wiping out most of the planet or we get a re-run of a scene from alien."

As blunt a statement as it was, Owen's pronouncement wasn't any less true. For all they knew, any of those scenarios could come true. Those and many more; some worse, some just as bad, some not so bad, but all possible.

When Jack opened his eyes again, Ianto was still there on the screen. Still huddled on the bed, wearing the jogging bottoms and T-shirt Tosh had found for him somewhere. Arms wrapped around his drawn up knees.

He hadn't said a word in hours.

Owen had been in earlier with toiletries Tosh had bought. It was just a precaution, Ianto hadn't shown any signs of hostility, or possibly suicidal behaviour, but it still wasn't wise to leave him alone with a razor, especially in the bathroom where there wasn't a camera. Tosh had gone in after, with food. It was still sitting untouched on the desk where Owen's computer terminal had been. Ianto hadn't moved since he'd finished in the bathroom. Hadn't spoken since they'd returned him to his room.

He just sat there, staring at the opposite wall, occasionally blinking.

Sometimes Jack really hated his job.

Tbc...