Author's Notes: Thanks very much to everyone who kindly reviewed the first chapter, added alerts, and to everyone else who gave it a go. A special thank you to Prothrombintime for brilliant support, feedback and encouragement. On with the story...

Chapter Two

October 13th, 2003
(Five years earlier)

Ianto stood on the timber-decked boardwalk of Mermaid Quay and studied the small, unremarkable building in front of him. It appeared to be little more than a derelict wooden shack, tucked into the end of the pier, and incongruous in the modern surroundings of Cardiff Bay's numerous restaurants, pubs, and shops.

His research indicated that the building had once served as a tourist information office, but that pretence had obviously been abandoned years earlier. Now, it seemed to be the only tiny patch of the highly developed area that had been ignored and forgotten. However, Ianto knew appearances could be deceptive and that the modest facade acted merely as an entrance to something far more substantial, its existence known only to a handful of people.

He drew in a steadying breath of the crisp sea air and straightened his tie, trailing his fingers down the length of smooth, silk fabric before tugging at the cuffs of his shirt. He felt conspicuous dressed in his best suit – classically styled, charcoal grey with a subtle white pinstripe – which he'd accompanied with a crisp white shirt and a conservative dark blue tie with a silver diagonal stripe. However, anything less would have been unprofessional, and this had been his daily work attire at Torchwood London. He'd quickly grown accustomed to high quality clothing since he'd begun working full-time and had the means to afford it. He wasn't about to compromise his standards just because his work environment had changed. Besides, he liked how he looked and carried himself in a well-cut suit. He felt more confident and in control.

Looking down at his watch, he noted the time was five minutes before eight. He'd spent a little more time than usual on his morning routine, wanting to make the best possible first impression. Ianto's fastidiousness was sometimes in conflict with his firm belief in punctuality. What others would undoubtedly call obsessive, he liked to think was simply a meticulous nature and an appreciative eye for detail. He was relieved that he'd arrived with time to spare, and fortunately, the quaint bed and breakfast he'd taken up temporary residence at was only ten minutes away by foot. Having decided to leave his car behind, he'd risked braving Cardiff's unpredictable weather in order to allow himself some additional time to gather his thoughts.

His orders had been concise, yet frustratingly vague. His assignment didn't sit well with him, but when the director of Torchwood One gave an order, she expected it to be carried out without question or debate. Ianto had heard rumours about what happened to those who managed to incite Yvonne Hartman's wrath. While he'd always treated office gossip with a healthy degree of contempt, in this particular case he found it easy to believe the voracity of the rumours. Hartman was fiercely patriotic to the point of uncompromising ruthlessness, and from what Ianto had heard, she seemed to have few qualms about performing merciless acts in the name of queen and country.

Ianto believed in the Torchwood Institute's mandate to secretly protect the British Empire from extraterrestrial threats, but he wasn't sure if its leader was the best person for the job. Although he appreciated that a degree of hardheartedness might be necessary at times, he couldn't help but worry that Hartman's self-righteous arrogance might one day prove to be the organisation's undoing. He hoped he was wrong.

He'd been entirely dismayed about his sudden reassignment. After finally managing to escape the stifling confines of Cardiff and nearby Newport, he'd only just begun a new life for himself in London. Recruited by Torchwood while completing his degree at Cardiff University, along with his former girlfriend Lisa Hallett, it had been the opportunity to create a better life for himself, finally leaving the shackles of his poor, working-class background firmly behind. Hartman had been unconvincingly apologetic about the sudden upheaval to his life, but she'd offered up a substantial pay-rise and generous relocation allowance as recompense. While Ianto was pleased that the extra money meant a new bespoke suit or two were in his future, it still seemed like a lousy deal. However, he hadn't had a choice, and he suspected that Yvonne Hartman was the sort of person who regularly used money to make problems go away, assuage any flickerings of guilt, or to just smooth over issues in her day-to-day life.

Ianto glanced up nervously. He'd spotted the CCTV camera just barely visible in the corner of the building's frontage as soon as he'd approached. He'd also taken note of the string of cameras as he'd gotten closer to his destination, and he knew his every movement was likely being observed.

Uncertain of the appropriate protocol, but unable to put off the inevitable any longer, Ianto stepped forward and knocked firmly on the wooden door. It was far more solid than its ramshackle appearance had led him to believe. After waiting several moments and receiving no response, he tentatively opened the unlocked door, and moved cautiously over the threshold.

The interior was dimly lit and shabby, and entirely in keeping with the dilapidated exterior. Allowing the door to close behind him with a solid thud, Ianto found himself staring across the small room at his new boss.

The tall, solidly built man was leaning back against a long counter, his arms crossed defensively over his broad chest. His attire was strangely anachronistic, appearing to be a style dating back several decades at least, perhaps as far back as the 1940's, and accentuated by a grey military greatcoat that gave him an authoritative, imposing appearance. The man was glaring at Ianto with narrowed eyes, his features set in a hard, unwelcoming expression.

Ianto had seen the mysterious leader of Torchwood Three previously, but only in photographs, and once at a distant glance when the man had been visiting Torchwood London two months earlier. Ianto was once again struck by the man's almost impossible good looks. Smooth, chiselled features were accompanied by piercing blue eyes and a stylish mop of thick, dark brown hair, a shade or two lighter than Ianto's short, neatly groomed locks.

Captain Jack Harkness had the enviable good looks of a model or film star. Even for a strictly heterosexual man like Ianto, Captain Harkness was undeniably striking. At a glance, the Captain appeared to be in his late thirties, but Ianto knew that wasn't necessarily correct, although he didn't believe the many outrageous rumours he'd heard about the man's apparent longevity. He'd literally laughed out loud when several of his colleagues had postulated that the enigmatic Captain was a vampire. Ianto had dryly responded with the suggestion that they should stock up on garlic tablets, just in case.

Clearing his throat, Ianto took a step forward, forcing himself to maintain eye contact with the other man. "Good morning, sir." He tentatively reached his hand forward in greeting. "Ianto Jones."

There was a heavy silence as the Captain continued to stare at him. Ianto only barely managed not to squirm under the intensity of the icy gaze. Just as he was about to return his arm to his side, the other man reached out and clasped his hand, giving it a quick but firm shake. "Captain Jack Harkness," he offered unnecessarily, revealing a distinctive American accent.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Ianto said politely as the other man continued to scrutinise him with unnerving intensity.

"Ianto Jones, born August nineteenth, 1982," the Captain began in a detached tone a moment later. He paused and looked at Ianto challengingly, a hint of a smirk ghosting briefly over his lips. "Welsh. Grew up in a council housing estate in Newport. Younger of two children. Parents deceased. Gifted student. One minor conviction for shoplifting four years ago. Number of temporary jobs while studying history and literature at Cardiff University. Recruited by the London branch of the Torchwood Institute six months ago. Junior researcher. Ex-girlfriend Lisa Hallett, also recruited by Torchwood." He paused again. "Shall I go on?"

Ianto shook his head. He wasn't surprised that the Captain had checked up on him. "No need," he replied and attempted to offer up a genial smile, determined not to let the older man intimate him. "I see you've done your homework, sir. As I'm sure you know, Ms. Hartman sent me to–"

The Captain suddenly stepped forward, placing himself firmly in Ianto's personal space, and causing Ianto to stop mid-sentence. Harkness glared at him, their faces so close that Ianto could feel the other man's warm breath against his skin. He couldn't help but notice the distinctive scent of the other man's aftershave. It was unlike anything he'd encountered before. "Hartman sent you to spy on me," Harkness said, accusation evident in his voice.

Despite Ianto's six-foot height being an equal match for the Captain's, he felt dwarfed by the other man's build and stature. He held his ground and schooled his features in an impassive expression. "I was sent here to work for you, sir," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm and steady, and hoping his anxiety wasn't obvious.

The other man simply continued to stare at him defiantly. Ianto sighed and lowered his eyes. It was pointless to deny the reason for his presence, and he didn't want to begin their association by insulting the Captain's intelligence. "And to spy on you," he admitted, lifting his eyes to meet the other man's gaze again and squaring his shoulders.

Whatever the Captain had been expecting him to say, it obviously hadn't been that. Ianto allowed himself a moment of satisfaction from the look of genuine surprise that passed rapidly over the man's features.

Harkness then stepped back and moved around the counter. He reached down and a section of the wall to Ianto's right slid away, revealing a dark passageway beyond.

"Well, I suppose I'd better show you around. Come on." Harkness walked over to the previously concealed doorway, not waiting for Ianto's response. Just before he was about to disappear into the passageway, he looked back over his shoulder at Ianto, his eyes roaming over the length of Ianto's body with a complete lack of subtlety. "By the way, nice suit."

Ianto stared at the retreating form of the other man for a long moment, wondering what in the hell he'd gotten himself into. Shaking his head, he followed meekly in the Captain's wake.

###

An hour and a half later, Ianto stood in the middle of the large chamber that was the centre of the vast network of rooms forming Torchwood Three's archives, beginning one level down from the main work area of the underground base.

He looked around in complete despair and thought he might actually be about to cry. Every surface and shelf, along with a substantial amount of the stone floor, was littered with woefully disorganised files accompanied by the debris that had fallen through the spatial rift which ran through Cardiff. The Rift regularly spat out the 'flotsam and jetsam' of the universe, as the Captain had called it, amongst over things, many of which Ianto knew were not quite so benign. It would take him months, maybe even years, to catalogue and organise everything. Even the belligerent Captain had found the grace to look at him sheepishly and then make a hasty retreat upstairs.

After his impromptu tour, Ianto had quickly decided that Torchwood Three's underground base, known somewhat pretentiously as 'The Hub', could best be described as a rubbish tip, and that was only if he was feeling especially charitable, which at that moment in time he most definitely wasn't.

Admittedly, the expansive main level was impressive with its eclectic mix of nineteenth century architecture and modern technology. The open space was dominated by a water tower spearing up through the space, bisecting the ceiling and reaching up into the sky on Roald Dahl Plass above. He even found the low-level hum of equipment and the continuous sound of moving water surprisingly soothing. However, the place was filthy and littered with pizza boxes, empty takeaway food containers, disposable coffee cups, and various other day-to-day detritus.

The entire dank lair offended his sensibilities and made him itch to start cleaning, although he wasn't sure where to even begin. He thought with longing of the sterile, immaculate environment of the towering Torchwood London offices. While the Hub undoubtedly had character, it was also, to put it bluntly, a shit-hole. In hindsight, Ianto realised he probably shouldn't have said as such to the Captain during their tour. The Captain had seemed offended that Ianto wasn't sufficiently awestruck, but it wasn't Ianto's fault that Jack Harkness had apparently never fully grasped the concept of a rubbish bin.

Sighing deeply, Ianto extracted his notepad and pen from his jacket pocket, and began making a list of the supplies he'd need to assist him in bringing some semblance of order to the surrounding chaos. He'd send a requisition to Torchwood London for some of the more major items like storage boxes, a high-resolution document scanner, and a digital camera – Ms. Hartman had told him to contact her assistant about anything he might require – and he could purchase office and cleaning supplies locally. He made a mental note to ask the Captain about getting some petty cash for necessities.

After an hour of making notes, exploring the various rooms, and sifting through some of numerous artifacts and files, Ianto decided he was in dire need of sustenance.

Making his way back upstairs, he spotted the Captain sitting in his office, looking decidedly sulky. Their eyes met for a moment through the open glass-panelled doors separating the office from the rest of the main work area, then the other man turned away to look at the computer screen at the side of his desk.

Observing the enigmatic man for a few more moments, Ianto couldn't help but think how lonely it must be for him, working alone in the huge underground base, with no one to talk to or share the burden of safeguarding Cardiff.

Ianto didn't know the full story, but he'd read the chilling account of Torchwood Three's previous leader, a man by the name of Alex Hopkins, who had murdered the entire Cardiff team on New Year's Eve of 1999, with the exception of Captain Harkness. The Captain had assumed leadership and apparently been left to his own devices ever since. Ianto wasn't sure why Yvonne Hartman was taking an interest in the Cardiff branch after all this time, or why Captain Harkness was allowing it, given that he'd been operating more or less independently of the London branch for several years. He suspected that politics were at play, of which he had no interest. It was quite possible the Captain had some well-connected allies, and therefore wielded some power over Hartman, thus insuring Torchwood Three's relative autonomy.

At Torchwood London, Ianto had been just one low-level employee in a sea of over eight hundred workers. Making a name for himself and advancing up through the ranks would have been painstakingly slow at best. Here in Cardiff though, it might just be possible that he could actually make a difference. He could make himself useful, become indispensable to the Captain, and still carry out Hartman's orders.

Captain Harkness clearly needed help with running the Cardiff branch, even if he'd never admit it. Ianto could do that. He could become whatever the Captain needed.

Feeling a spark of optimism for the first time since his arrival, Ianto walked purposefully across the heavy metal grating, passing by the battered sofa he'd seen earlier, and entered the kitchen area tucked into a corner of the cavernous space. In all fairness, he couldn't blame the Captain for his inhospitable attitude. After all, Ianto was an unwelcome interloper in his domain, having been sent to observe and report on the man's activities. Ianto knew he had his work cut out for him if he had any hope of building a cordial working relationship between them.

Fortunately, Ianto liked a challenge, and smiling softly to himself as he reached into his jacket pocket, he also had a secret weapon.