A/N: God I shouldn't be up this late but David Tennant's last episode made me feel very Torchwood-y. I realize that by the looks of things, my portrayal of Matt Smith's Doctor is possibly not accurate, but I don't care, because by the time he comes back into this fic, we'll have seen at least a bit of the new series, and I'll be able to write him more accurately, okay? (: Good. It's 1.33 am, and so this note will be brief, but MY GOD I HATE RTD'S WRITING. It's really very bad. That storyline could have been so much better but as per usual RTD ruined it by being the guy who wrote it. In the hands of anyone else, that could have been staggering. Ah well. Song for this one is going to be 'Paper Wings' by Rise Against because frankly it's an epic song and it's bittersweet, like this chapter. Enjoy, guys. (:


Waking up in the isolation room was always the same, really. In a very comforting way.

Learner had set the lighting to move up gradually as the light conditions changed outside; mimicking the effect a window would have on the room. She was awake from the very first traces of light, but kept her eyes closed, relishing in the gradual fade into light and consciousness that was so similar to when she'd first been revived.

She opened her eyes, eventually, and sighed, burrowing into the duvet. I'll have to get up in a minute, she thought, staring up at the ceiling, squinting through the light. At least we know they picked the right recruits.

Cath rose fluidly, discarding the duvet, then thinking again and wrapping it about her shoulders like a cape. As if he'd been waiting for her to get up, Learner entered the room with a tentative smile.

She studied his Umbreyta form with a half-smile in response; from the very beginning there was something very different about him that she'd loved completely. Not even how remarkable his true form was, it was just something immeasurable, indescribable.

She took his hand in hers, and squeezed softly, "I'm sorry. Was I bad?"

His eyes looked pained, but he smiled slightly, "Well, you weren't a bundle of laughs. I talked you down. Again."

"Hmm, I don't remember any of it. Every single time, I don't remember," Cath said, rubbing her cheek against the back of his hand, sighing at the contrast in temperature. Something was different about their connection recently, as if it had become more vital, more important that she was near to him. Offhandedly, she mused, "Learner, do Umbreyta believe in marriage?"

His eyes widened briefly, but he held his tongue, "It's a little more complicated than that. It's…more, well, spiritual. There's no ceremony. You just know."

And so Cath looked into his endless white eyes, and brushed a kiss against his cool cheek, and knew.


"Right," Jack said, eying the new recruits warily as they entered through the Hub door. They'd been trained swiftly, and already they'd established who was fit for field service and who wasn't. One of each, as it happened - at least he wouldn't be putting a full five young lives on the line this time.

He let his gaze drift to Ianto, quietly making coffee at the kitchenette. Already he'd picked up on how each new member liked their coffee – Daria was an Americano, and Charlton was a caramel macchiato. For a moment he idly wondered where Ianto had picked up the knowledge of how to make a caramel macchiato, and then dismissed it, as there was far too much Ianto knew that surprised him to think too much about it.

He still worried, even though it had been weeks since they had seen the Hub, that they would find it too much and need Retconning. He had more faith in Charlton – the young man's own life was so disjointed in time that he had doubted he would find the Hub daunting in the slightest. He was right, as it turned out; Charlton had looked around briefly, nodded, and then quietly questioned where his computer was. He had been slower to pick up the usage and maintenance of the tasers and guns, and was still not entirely accurate, and so would probably remain at the Hub for most field missions unless they were in dire need of extra hands.

Jack wondered whether it was just him being nosy, or if he was right in guessing that Charlton's ineptitude with guns and the like was based on reluctance and dislike of violence. After seeing his father sent to a labour camp for objecting to war, it wouldn't be surprising. He made a note not to push the matter too far.

Daria had reacted slightly more to the Hub, but had surpassed everyone's expectations in the field training department. The blonde had looked around the chasm of a base, eyes wide, and blanched thoroughly.

"Um," she had begun, "could I possibly have a strong coffee? This is a lot to take in."

Before he had time to process the movement, Ianto had moved her to the new sofa, speaking softly to her in her native German before starting to make the coffee. He'd known Ianto had taken German for some time, but didn't know he was so fluent. Maybe I ought to get him to teach me some, Jack mused, thinking back to that moment. We've got time.

Jack had been surprised that Daria had known how to shoot and clean most of their guns, and showed a flair for rifles. "My father taught me to shoot," she had explained calmly, "because he was a fan of hunting. I had no stomach for that, so I just practiced in a shooting gallery." This had freaked Jack out a little more than he let on, so he told her sternly that in no circumstances should she tase anyone on the head, if she had to use a taser. Ianto had hidden a laugh behind his hand at the memory.

It was decided that Daria should go on field missions, mainly for Gwen's benefit. She was fit for field missions, anyway, and it would be useful to have their medic at hand out on, well, the field. Charlton – Charlie, Jack corrected himself mentally – smiled serenely when they suggested he should man the Hub; "It's probably sensible to have someone here," he'd said, "to coordinate everything. No offence, but the immediate impression I get from Torchwood is disorder." He glanced at Ianto, "Apart from him, but he's just immaculate all the time." Jack couldn't help thinking Ianto had looked a little smug at that statement.

Coming back to the present, Jack blinked, and began again, "Right. We need a team building exercise so we can get to know each other properly," he paused, as Ianto's hand went straight up, "Ianto?"

"Sir, if it's all the same, can we avoid the countryside?"


They ended up, for lack of a better option, getting pissed in a corner of the usual pub. Charlton noted small details about his colleagues as the evening went on. There were the things they told each other voluntarily, which were interesting enough, but it was the way that they interacted that most interested him; at his side, he could see Daria doing a similar thing.

It was the way Ianto at first declined a drink, saying cryptically to Jack, "I don't know whether they reinforced my liver – I'd rather not risk it." Charlton neither knew nor really wanted to know what that meant, but it was intriguing nevertheless. Eventually he succumbed to a small Jack and Coke, but nursed it for quite some time. He knew there was something different, something deceptively dangerous about the Welshman, but couldn't place it; only the fact that Ianto seemed a little more alien than the rest of them, Jack excepting.

Jack himself had a beer, but drank it unenthusiastically, as if it was just a front, and he was bored by drinking. Charlton wondered idly how old Harkness was; he seemed young, but there was a carefulness in his eyes that suggested advanced age. Torchwood was an organization dealing with strange things, it would only make sense to have some strange things within the organization.

The pair of them were clearly together. Well, he'd learned that the hard way, seeing them making out enthusiastically late one night in Jack's office, but had decided to ignore it; it seemed only polite. But there was something off, at the moment; the way they aligned themselves around each other was as if they were connected by invisible strings, but Charlton thought maybe there was a bit of pulling at the strings, a discomfort. As if something bad had happened to them, and they weren't quite comfortable again.

Gwen, being pregnant, didn't drink. However, she was a friendly, lively presence, somehow drawing everyone together. He liked her a lot, and her husband Rhys seemed like a nice guy too, once he'd arrived from his work at Harwoods. It impressed Charlton how a woman so involved with saving the world and aliens could be so normal, so grounded. He supposed that was why they'd hired her – to keep them linked to the normal world, so one of them could be happy.

Jack and Ianto seemed happy, but there was guilt in Harkness' eyes and sadness in Ianto's that he couldn't pinpoint the causes of. Ianto caught his eye at one point, with a small smile, as if he'd overheard Charlton's thoughts. Charlton gave a brief flash of a grin, taking a sip of his scotch (on the rocks), before turning to Daria as he listened to her telling them about herself.

She had a younger brother, Walter, in Germany, and a mother and father. She was Jewish, firm but reform, and was dating PC Andy. She seemed relaxed around her new colleagues, and got along well with everyone. Charlton noted she was drinking a white wine spritzer – doesn't like red, he guessed, amused by her extroversion, and the pale, barely raised scars across her knuckles where she'd fought off army officers with her bare fists. The shadow across her cheekbone was completely gone, but the pale scar across her lips remained; an officer must have been wearing a ring, or hit her with his gun.

Ianto had a scar, too. Just along his cheek, healed, a shade lighter than his normal skin tone. He's a handsome guy, Charlton mused, and a similar age to me. A lewd though briefly flickered across his brain, which even surprised him, and he dismissed it . He and Jack were very physically involved, if the barely-concealed lovebite on the join between Jack's neck and shoulder was anything to go by. Noticing Charlton's scrutiny, Jack looked questioning; Charlton touched his own neck in the place where the lovebite was, and mimicked adjusting the collar of his shirt. Jack grinned in response, flicking his collar open more. Ianto blushed, across his cheekbones, and Charlton toasted them with a grin in reply.

People-watching was his way of keeping control, and remembering key things that had made people themselves. Even now, years separating him and his biological family, Charlton could still remember the smell of his mother's perfume, and the faint lines across his father's forehead – signs of a life well-lived. He could remember his sister's slightly crooked teeth; you wouldn't notice unless you really looked, but her front teeth were ever-so-slightly crossed over. He could remember the warmth and comfort of his home, and while he missed them desperately, remembering all of these tiny things helped him feel less like they were gone.

I really do read too many body language books, he mused, taking a deep pull of his scotch, and joining in, ignorant to the pensive look on Ianto's face as he studied Charlton, too.


The night was over, and everyone had headed home, apart from them.

They were taking the long way back to wherever they were going, that much Ianto could tell; they both had their hands in the pockets of their coats, and Jack was walking slowly, as if deliberating on something he wanted to say.

"Just say it, Jack. Whatever's on your mind, say it," he said, looking at Jack with a small, slow quirk of his lips.

Jack looked up at him, blue eyes honest, "I think we should tell them about our…conditions."

This brought a small frown to Ianto's face, "Why? It wouldn't affect anything, would it?"

"I just think that Charlton is quick on the uptake. He's meticulous – he studies everything carefully. Makes him remarkable on computers, and even more remarkable at reading people. He knows something is different about us," Jack said, quietly, "and I think if we're gonna do this 'new team' thing properly, we need to trust each other. It was my secrets that got you and Tosh and Owen killed. We can't have that again."

Ianto thought back over the evening; it was true that Charlton was extremely good at deciphering body language. Once or twice Ianto had caught snatches of his thoughts; once it was about him, and once about him and Jack. Both thoughts had been beginnings of speculation – about whether Ianto was human and how old Jack really was, and about the strange discomfort he and Jack felt towards each other. He gulped.

"I think you might be right. He's got a brilliant mind," he noticed Jack's questioning look, and went on, "in that I can hear him sometimes, he thinks so much. I caught a few things about me and you, and then –" here he paused, thinking back, "– another thing. It's a compulsion, for him. Natural. Reading people is just what he immediately does."

He idly wished he could read Jack; maybe then he would know where they were headed, the Hub or his flat. There was something personal about Jack coming to his flat that he wanted desperately to explore. Jack had never come round to his – well, that was a lie, he'd come to his door once after Lisa to check on him during his suspension. But he had never stayed over. Maybe because Ianto had never had the stones to invite him.

"Ianto…" Jack started, seemingly realizing they were nearing the point where they would have to decide where to go, "Could I…I mean, I don't want to intrude, but…"

Ianto cut him off with a kiss, linking Jack's hands with his, before pulling back and saying simply, "Yes."

He lead him back to his flat, and opened the door one-handed, keeping one hand clutched to Jack's. There had been something so fragile about Jack before that it felt like the only thing keeping his lover – his friend – together.

His flat was cold; he'd left the heating off. The place was methodically tidy, and looked barely lived in, apart from the slightly worn sofa and a DVD box set – Heroes – sat on the coffee table. Ianto watched Jack explore his home as he turned the thermostat up, and smiled as Jack grinned at the huge coffee machine, taking pride of place in his kitchen. Jack murmured something that sounded like, "I should've known…" before moving on to browse Ianto's organized DVD and CD collection.

He took Jack greatcoat from where he'd left it hanging over the back of the sofa and hung it on his coat stand, dusting it off fondly. It looked at home there – strange how Jack could make a place his simply by being there.

They didn't have sex that night, as much as Ianto wanted to. They slept together, but just as two people wrapped around each other for warmth and contact, asleep. Ianto woke once in the night to find Jack's head on his chest, breath faintly whuffling in and out in slumber. He'd always known Jack slept, but had never found proof until now.

And somehow, seeing him there, totally open and totally vulnerable, made Ianto's heart ache peculiarly, as if they were both human again.