A/N: So I couldn't stay away. (: I just like to make them miserable. I dunno, I liked the tone of CoE, but am keeping the same witty banter we all love. Updates on this will probably be more sporadic than they were for TPBU - as dreamingofsunshine put it, life is catching up with me. This is basically the start of a new story arc - story arc 1 was focusing on Ianto's revival and its consequences, and story arc 2 (entitled 'The Only Exception') is about the effects that the Officials have on the way Torchwood runs, and how Torchwood re-adjusts after CoE. Chapter names will be just random songs that inspired them; this one is 'The Only Exception', by Paramore. (: Anyways, enough of me, do read on and I hope you enjoy it.


His neck did this really strange thing sometimes.

Jack had been sitting perfectly calmly at his desk for some time, struggling through the paperwork he'd been putting off since joining Torchwood. It was a wonder to him how Ianto could methodically work through this stuff so easily – then again, it didn't help that Jack's handwriting looked like chicken-scratch, at best. So many years of living, and he'd never tried to change his handwriting. Go figure.

So there Jack was sitting, frowning down at his papers, until Ianto – moving as silently as…well, a very silent thing – knocked on his door.

And that just about gave Jack a heart attack. His head snapped up, and his neck CLICKED

very

loudly.

Ianto's eyes widened for a moment at the noise, before he opened the door, and immediately fell against the doorframe, laughing hysterically.

Jack's brow crinkled in bemusement, "When you're quite finished…" His heart thudded unevenly in his chest; it still unnerved him how silently Ianto could move, and how very inhuman his lover was. Even under Ianto's three-piece suit (the jacket of which was neatly hung up on the new coat-hooks that the archivist had installed, sneakily), he could see the sinuous lines of the Welshman's muscles, moving seamlessly even in laughter.

Finally, Ianto wiped his eyes and straightened up, strangely graceful, saying, "Right. How are you getting on with the paperwork?"

Jack wrung his hands in reply, "It doesn't make any sense to me."

Sighing, Ianto moved to Jack's side, an arm sliding easily around his shoulders, "I'll do it. Your penmanship is awful." He pressed a kiss to Jack's temple, easing the tension there.

That was the same. Always. The way Ianto touched him, how his smallest gestures could mean so much. Even if the body and the mind controlling them were different, the actions – and the way they put Jack's mind at ease – stayed the same.

But he worried; the mind was the part he needed to identify with. And the body – not that it wasn't amazing – was plain frightening, too. It was different, more responsive, and more alert; Ianto had been a foreign prospect for years until Suzie's second death, even when they were just shagging, nothing more, and now he felt he was back at square one.

Ianto moved with a certain elegance nowadays, and Jack wondered at the fact he was even allowed to touch him. He kissed Ianto then, softly, just the barest touch of lips to lips.

He wondered if Ianto could hear his heart pounding, and fancied he could hear Ianto's too.


The phone rang. Not the main phone in the tourist office, the line they lent to police and other workaday organizations; that wouldn't warrant Jack panicking like this, but the private line which set off the tone in Jack's office.

Glancing at the ID, Ianto quirked an eyebrow despite himself. The ID read simply 'Basement'; no reason to panic, or so he thought. The way Jack was pleading silently – as if the callers could hear them without the use of a phone – for him to answer it instead revealed him knowing a lot more than Ianto.

The Welshman picked up, keeping his eyes steadily on Jack's face, studying it in meticulous detail, "Hello? Oh, Learner. No, I'm afraid he's occupied right now. What was it you needed to talk to him…about…?" Here the older man winced and cringed back into his seat. Ianto grimaced.

"Ahhh…" Jack whined, as if in pain. Ianto repressed a snort.

"Right. Yes, I see. I'll pass on the message," he said, flinty-eyed at Jack, "although he never really does listen to these things. Goodbye."

Now, he'd known it would be something Jack didn't like. And he could wholly understand the older man's apprehension; after all, it had only been a few months…well, it would seem like minutes to Jack, after living for so long. The younger man sighed. Of course, Jack's concerns were now his too, since…his change of circumstances. The part where he wouldn't die.

Jack removed his hands from his face tiredly, rubbing at his eyes on the way, and stared up at Ianto, all blue eyes and apologies, "They've been calling a lot, actually. I can't deal with it anymore. Was it the usual warning, like if we don't sort it out they'll take matters into their own hands?"

Ianto smiled beatifically, though made sure Jack could hear the sarcasm in his voice, "No, Jack. They've taken matters into their own hands. I helpfully have to pay the Basement a visit, to review their candidates."

Jack snorted sourly, "I don't see how it's necessary now, anyways. And I don't see how we can replace them, either." His eyes grew clouded, and Ianto heard the chord of pain that rang out in that mid-Atlantic accent.

He placed his hand over Jack's, hoping the other man couldn't see the hesitance. Of course, he did, and responded by taking Ianto's hand into his properly. He was so anxious to show Jack he was still him, still normal, that sometimes his trying to be the same only revealed just how much he wasn't the same. Ianto sighed.

"Jack. We can't replace them – not the people, not ever. But they're right. Despite our respective…conditions," he struggled, glaring as Jack smiled wryly, "we do have a pregnant operative, and someone does need to monitor us, in case I get something that won't heal without help or it looks like you won't revive. We need a new medic."

"But Tosh, too?" Jack queried, "I mean, between the three of us, we can almost do everything she could. Not that anyone could match her – it took an age just to find her."

"It's temporary. All of this is temporary. We three are still learning and frankly, once Gwen's had the baby and all of that, we can look after ourselves again. It's just that we're too much of a risky ally for the Basement as is."

Ianto watched Jack's expression turn to a pout, with real sadness behind the eyes, "I dunno. It feels like betraying them," Jack turned the full effect of his eyes onto Ianto, and the Welshman resisted the urge to kiss him then and there, "like they're still…here. Y'know?"

Suddenly there was an overwhelming lump in his throat that he simply couldn't swallow. Wordlessly he squeezed Jack's hand, with a nod. They stayed that way for a while, or at least until Ianto cleared his throat and said, with a voice that was only slightly rough, "Regardless, I still need to go and review candidates for the positions."

"Then I'm coming with you," Jack said, rising and reaching for his greatcoat. As he moved, Ianto inhaled out of habit, and the immortal grinned, "Can't get enough, can you?"

To deflect the sudden tension that had sprung up, Ianto smiled blithely, "I'll tell Gwen. May as well make it a team effort." He pulled on his suit jacket over his waistcoat, and straightened his already-straight tie.

"Already heard you," the Welshwoman said, peering around the doorframe. Ianto noted her eyes were a little glassy from secret tears. He guessed she'd been listening in, and didn't blame her. He gave her a small smile, and a tiny eyeroll at Jack's pout. Gwen Cooper-Williams laughed amiably at their routine, and Ianto took the time to appreciate what a nice-looking woman she was, with her bottomless brown eyes and wide smile. He proffered his arm to his friend, "You need an escort. This is for your benefit, after all."

Gwen elbowed him, then threaded her arm through the nook in his, her other hand stroking her pronounced bump – pregnancy suited her; she practically glowed, "Ah, well, I suppose we should be honoured the Basement worries so much about us. Though, I'm sure if they had it their way, I wouldn't be working at all…" She looked up at Jack, "I'll have to stop doing field missions once we get some new recruits, won't I? Once we've trained them up?"

Ianto studied Jack's reaction carefully. Something in his posture suggested resignation, and Ianto's gaze softened. Something aout Gwen in that moment seemed so sad, he would have thought the same as their captain.

"You shouldn't technically be doing them now, missy. And anyways, don't think of it as stopping, think of it as becoming the head of the Hub. Or something."

"Like the Oracle in Batman," Ianto offered, with a wry grin.

Gwen rolled her eyes, "I don't know if I should be offended by that, or mortified that I got the reference. Let's go, boys."

The three linked arms, Jack and Ianto flanking Gwen, and set off for the SUV.


Learner paced anxiously, in his human form. He figured it was probably too early in the day to show the Torchwood candidates his real form – after all, these were fairly ordinary people, who had no idea why they were here, or even why they were chosen.

"Um, Mr. Learner?" a quiet girl with a short blonde bob queried, "When do you think the, um, 'guests' are going to arrive?"

Learner smiled, eyes crinkling in good humour. He appreciated the air quotes around 'guests' – he had to hand it to her, Blondie sure knew when she was being duped. He knew her name, but, possibly a side effect from being in his human form for so long, he was losing clarity, and had designated each of the candidates a nickname, and tolerated, even enjoyed, their banter.

"Well, I'm sure it won't be long, don't worry. I can understand if any of you would like to leave, however," He cast a speculative glance over the small assembled group, and watched as about five of them made their excuses and left. Blondie stayed in her seat stubbornly, and Learner fought his rising admiration for her down, "Don't all jump at once, mind."

He felt hot hands on the back of his neck, winding their fingers through the tufts of hair there, and felt a wonderful heat run through his body. Despite the formal setting, he leaned into Cath's touch. He murmured, "Don't get me started, Cath, now's not the time or place."

Cath smiled at the shocked faces of the candidates as they took in her hair and skin. He guessed she was wondering what they made of her; whether they knew how dangerous she was just through the tattoos, as she'd wished. Judging by the paleness of some of them, he believed they did. "Now, Learner, it's not a big deal. I'm just easing them in. Just one of the tests – like when they see you for what you really are."

Turning, Learner stared into her eyes, and saw that they were half-crazed, "Cath. You get antsy like this, you're dangerous. Calm down or I'm shutting you away and you won't get a say in this. At all."

"I knew you'd say that. Just 'cause you're the senior Official, you think you're all-powerful, you think I couldn't bring myself to kill you if I wanted," Cath ranted, wild-eyed, and Learner noted the red spots tinting her tattooed cheeks beneath the ink, betraying her mindset, "I could, you know. It would be so easy."

His grip on her arms tightened; he hadn't even realized he had grabbed them. He saw the wince in her eyes, and said through gritted teeth, "You've left me no choice, Cath. You get like this. You get over-the-top and all paranoid and you don't think straight. That damn block in your brain," he paused, seeing the flicker of recognition in her eyes, and the hurt that followed, "Oh, damn it Cath, just go to sleep. You need to sleep."

At his words, she seemed to slump in on herself, and he put an arm around her to prop her up and make it seem like nothing had changed. The purple circles under her eyes were prominent at this angle, as her eyes fluttered shut. Learner let his hand glance over her tangled red hair tenderly, and then cleared his throat. The candidates looked up. Learner winced; the confrontation that he'd presumed they'd heard had in fact been a quiet and imperceptible argument, known only to him and the now-sleeping Catherine.

"I'm just going to help Agent Catharine to her room – she gets faint spells – and I'll be right back. Don't trash anything," he joked, and left with Cath propped against him.

As soon as he'd cleared the room, he shifted into his true form, and whipped her into his arms, barely jostling her. Pressing a kiss to her tense temple, he carried her to one of the isolation rooms, placing her on the same bed she'd woken up on all those years ago, a new being.

These lows were getting worse, and he didn't know what was causing it. And that frightened him more than anything he'd experienced before.


A/N: Cheerful, aren't I?