Summary: The 456 are Junkies. Highly intelligent Junkies, with lots of blissed out time in which to think up more ways to get their fix. Why would they gas a building full of people who may yet live to create more children? The gas is more than anyone knows, and it's reaction to one Ianto Jones is more than anyone, even the 456, could have thought
Ianto has live next door to the Rift since he was born, and has encountered so many different kinds of energy that it shouldn't be a surprise that an Alien drug would have an extreme effect on him, but it is anyway.
EACH CHAPTER IS (about)10K. Patience for the next chapter… or not.
So this is slightly less than 10k, but this is because I'm trying to even out to 50k on my word file that I have everything on… I'm thinking every couple of chapters there will be one like this one, with either less or more (and this one would be more if the next scene that I have written out wasn't 3k), because it's easier to figure out when 10k is without having to go back and try to figure where the errant 1-2k is.
Also, yes I'm serious in choosing this particular song for what works best for this chapter.
Ah, memories… :)
Chapter 5— I'm Blue by Eiffel 65
It took Ianto a little under three days to get everything set up.
The first two days were preoccupied with setting up the… well; it was sort of like a generator, but just a little bit more like a very complicated rechargeable battery.
The building had been bought and 'condemned' because of the power surges and strange lulls, the area located on what Jack had once described as a node of the Rift, meant that when the previous tenants weren't getting away with free electricity, they were complaining about the flickering lights and black outs.
The generator would take the excess energy and store it, and use it when the lulls came, a program Tosh had written up when he'd told her about the phenomenon tracking the energy surges and regulating out the most practical amount of energy needed for everything that's using the energy.
He used the area that was once two rooms to set things up, par of one wall broken away and showing wires that he'd need to be able to get at, and while a great part of the first day was used in cleaning out that room of the rubble, Ianto could see that this would work.
He would still need to find the circuit breakers that were already in the house, and find a way to connect the two, but he had to find the right wires for that.
The pieces for it were in an entire crate of their own, and while it was frustrating that Ianto had to trek up and down the stairs to get each piece, and even more so when it took even longer with the heavier pieces, he finished setting it up by the end of the next day.
Ianto was happy to learn that hydro was still being paid for through one of Torchwood's fake businesses, and enjoyed a soap-less bath more than he thought he would.
Getting the monitors set up was finicky but not difficult, the programming and fiddling with hard-drives going much quicker than he thought they would (though he attributed that to connecting his Mini-Hub), and he had the last half of the afternoon to take stock of what he had, what he didn't, and what he needed.
It became quickly apparent that what he needed most was food, a decent coat, and to that extent, Money.
He had roughly £250 from what he'd picked up from the Goons in what he was now calling The Shooting Range (so he had a morbid sense of humor, so what?), but that wouldn't last for long after getting a decent coat and food.
He knew he had to get a larger coat, because if he remembered correctly (and it was entirely possible his optimism was getting the better of him) he hit his growth spurt in great jumps and leaps, petering out to his full 6 feet by the end of high school.
He brought out his stolen laptop and pulled up a spreadsheet to figure out exactly how long it would be before he would be out of money, and the estimate had him frowning in thought.
If he rationed his food and bought like he was back in a university dorm room, he could, conceivably, last for nearly two weeks, and that was if he got a cheaper jacket.
A good jacket, preferably down, could be up to and beyond £100. The one he'd gotten after his first Torchwood paycheck was a little over £200, but there was no way he was going for that.
That would mean he would be able to have enough food, if bought with thought, for a couple of days if he was stingy.
And, while he knew he could do it, he was wary of the possibility.
But he was equally wary of what could happen if he picked back up old habits.
Being stingy with food wasn't something he was comfortable with, the extreme hunger he got when he died (fuck, don't dwell on it now) aside; he was still in the body of a child.
His own childhood self.
He knew enough about children to know that they needed food roughly every five hours, not including snacks, and having a balanced diet wouldn't be easy if he was budgeting himself so strictly.
If he had more money, however…
But he knew of the dangers of that.
If he took back up pickpocketing and theft, it would be extremely risky, more so than when he'd done it in his youth.
(Actual youth)
When he was young and cocky he'd had a group, been a part of a gang of sorts, had backup. It was dangerous enough in that sort of life without having anyone else to look out for you.
He didn't have an information system like he'd once had, he didn't have a bunch of mates who had as much at stake in the success of a hit as he did, he didn't have anyone to watch his back, he didn't have a fence and didn't have any way of knowing about any of the other gangs that might or might not be in any area at any one time.
He could go about pickpocketing for a while, but it was a risky business to dip his fingers in without knowing what other sharks were in the water.
But, any way he looked at things, he would eventually run out of money.
And what if he died again?
It was a morbid thought, and he didn't want to dwell on it any more than he had to, but he'd possibly died at Thames House, and then when he came back (again, possibly?) and died les than a week later.
If he DID die again (and what if he did it in public? What if he was brought to a hospital? God damn it, don't think about that right now…) he wouldn't be thinking of budgeting himself, far from it.
In the body of a child he wouldn't be able to get a job, and even going to the local Tesco's would raise eyebrows.
Still thinking on how to get money without going back to an old, and best forgotten lifestyle, he dropped down into the alleyway and headed out for groceries.
(He did glance back at the ladder to the fire escape, and added oil to his list, and some sort of industrial cleaner)
He did get strange looks when he went shopping, but his Trust Me face kept away direct questions.
Arms laden with groceries that were as far from spoilable as he could get without resorting to edible plastic and the cheapest soaps he could get his hands on, he managed his way back.
At one point a stereotypically seedy looking man started heading his way, and Ianto didn't know what sort of look he gave him, but he'd backed off quick enough.
Ianto still kept his eyes on the man though, and made sure he wasn't being followed when he made his way to the alley way.
It took some patience to get up, and he ended up using the spray can of WD40 on the hinges for the ladder to get the rest of his groceries where he wanted them.
It made one hell of a racket; shuddering screeches and wails that had him certain someone would be around to investigate, and made as much noise being pulled back up as rust was dislodged and joints were made to move.
(If people didn't come running from the sheer racket, he was almost sure they'd come from the racket his heart was making.)
He has just under £100 after buying as much non-perishable food items as he could carry, and it's easy enough to hack into the nearest WiFi to get a better estimate on a winter coat.
He'd never had any need to remember children's clothing process, but he'd need more layers.
It wasn't terribly cold right then, but it was Cardiff, and that meant that when it wasn't soggy, it was windy, and during winter it would be frigid more often than not.
He would be prepared.
He didn't know how to prepare for the rest of the problems no doubt heading his way, but he would at least be ready for cold weather.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Ianto does end up going out for a bit of pick-pocketing, because children's clothing is freakishly expensive for something that gets worn for so short a time, and while he was willing to go to the local thrift shop for cheaper, used clothes, he ultimately decided that he'd definitely need a better jacket.
Better than anything he could buy on a budget, anyway.
He walks for nearly an hour before lightening pockets (Never Steal From Your Neighbors), and does his best to look worried and trustworthy at the same time (Keep That Smug Look Off Your Face) as he pockets that man's wallet, that tourists purse, and stops a near-by Nanny to ask for directions before sticking with a Trust Me face for his escape.
He takes the cash (and God Bless American tourists for their tendency to carry just about all their cash on them) and ditches the wallets in sight of a police officer, before heading to the Jacket shop he'd asked directions for earlier.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
The clerk who'd followed him throughout the store to keep him from shoplifting (Because of course he'd be able to smuggle one of the bulky jackets on display easily, just look at all the hiding spots he had on his scrawny self) keeps asking him if he wanted to get a smaller jacket, one more his size, all the way up to the counter. Ianto keeps smiling and giving his Trust Me face, and keeps repeating his story.
Yes, it was a good size for him,
(It would be a bit tight on him if he was his actual age, but it would still fit)
No, no help was needed,
(Not from a Civilian, at least)
And he'd told his Mum he'd be able to buy his own jacket, she was waiting in the coffee shop just down the way, he'd better hurry back to her, BYE!
(He felt he should be a bit more distressed at how easily he was slipping into a mindset that could come up with convincing lies that would suit for a child…)
He wears the jacket out after he gets that same sales clerk to cut the tag ("But wouldn't your mum—" "She said I could have any jacket, please cut the tag please and thank you. Bye"), and is only a bit over-warm on his way back.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
He's still trying to think about how he would be able to get money in the state he's in when he's searching through the Torchwood Database for anything new.
It looked like there had been some progress on getting things back in order—a surprising amount, actually—and he can see the number of Weevils that have been tagged and it's looking like they were just about finished digging out a route to get to the Archives, which meant that Ianto would have to use the backdoor entry Tosh had shown him to Torchwood's files to find out what's happening.
He happens to glance beside him, and it takes him a moment to see that his Mini-Hub, something that had become somewhat of a background item, like a lamp you walked past every day, had three chords hanging from it.
It's like coming out of a fever, everything is so clear.
He'd been seeing problems and working to solve them on his own because he'd been thinking of himself as alone.
But he wasn't. Not entirely.
(Well, there was the cat, but it stared at him until it got bored and slept most of the time)
There was his Mini-Hub.
His Mini-Hub was connected to Mainframe, which, once everything was reloaded and reprogrammed into the Hub, would connect him to the goings-on of the Hub. He wouldn't need to continuously break in to find out what was happening.
(He wouldn't have to break in to find out where he needed to go to find Jack, to figure out how to get back to Torchwood without the risk of being shot. That was fantastic.)
He moved the chords to their positions, hardly noticing the tingle at his throat and temples, and shivers at the sensation of warmth of a greeting.
From what he can tell Mini-Hub is working the same way Mainframe would, and he wondered how much it would be affected by distance before getting down to the matter at hand.
He needed a way to get money that didn't involve Ianto having to go out and steal to get it.
Immediately news sites popped up on the monitors, stories from the past two decades piling up, all with the same theme.
Ianto didn't know what it had to do with anything for a moment, and after a moment a picture of a CFLBC card with Ianto Jones on it popped up, the emblem for the Bank of Cardiff drawing his eye.
Oh.
Oh.
Ianto grinned, and more and more web pages were being brought up, profiles and bank statements opened up to show all those little secrets, and the stiff, hard ball of anxiety that had been twisting up his insides relaxed.
Things would be just fine.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
2k
If either Tosh or Own thought that they'd be at a loss as to what to work on while the Hub was still being dug out, they would have been mistaken.
Owen was helping out a lot more with the Weevils than he thought he would be, and when he wasn't making up more Weevil spray he was spewing vitriol at the trigger-happy idiots that UNIT had sent out to round up the rabid Weevils. It was obvious that UNIT was so used to having their guns on hand, and that they hadn't had to deal with Weevils before that Owen felt like he was training the interns.
Particularly inept interns.
Because of the idiots, he had a quite the list of cadavers on the waiting list to be autopsied.
Tosh had set up a temporary Rift Monitor for until they could get at the saved Hard Drive that Ianto had put in the Archives, and was making sure that any and all tech that was being dug up was going into the proper storage… and not into UNIT trucks.
As helpful as they were being, there was no UNIT outpost in Cardiff, and so quite a bit of the alien tech that was just about common to Torchwood were things UNIT wanted to get their paws on.
Again, as helpful as it was, Torchwood and UNIT still had a somewhat shaky friendship, and that didn't extend to sharing toys.
It helped that Gwen was terrifying when she was pregnant, and even the higher-ups of UNIT jumped when she barked at them.
It seemed like her mothering instincts were getting exercise too, as even the hint of a disapproving look made the people of UNIT shuffling their feet.
The Interns (an agreed upon name for the particularly new seeming members of UNIT) just about pissed themselves if Gwen so much as frowned, and Owen swears up and down that one nearly fainted when Gwen demanded to know where they thought they were going.
The Intern had been carrying a box of alien equipment towards one of the UNIT research vans, and had seemed a bit wobbly when he'd responded to Gwen's 'Excuse me, where do you think you're going with that?'
It seemed like when they weren't busy doing work that they actually had to do as members of Torchwood, they were hounding after UNIT and the Interns to make sure they didn't squirrel away anything of theirs, and when they weren't doing that they were trying to deal with the sheer amount of calls and e-mails they were getting.
Apparently it was one of Ianto's jobs to make sure that certain people were apprised of what was happening within Torchwood, to send pertinent information about what they'd found, and there were a number of organizations that were trying to cozy up (but in a weirdly distant way) to Torchwood for the 'tactless and uncalled for request for the termination of such an important organization.'
The sheer number of emails that had accumulated was astonishing, especially since even after the first day of reading through and responding to them, there were twice as many the next day, and the magnitude of what Ianto did on a daily basis had Tosh pursing her lips.
Tosh had to explain it when it seemed like Owen was going to continue being disgusted, and Gwen confused.
"It's because of that video," she started, "Jack and Ianto made a stand against the 456, and even though it got out that Jack somehow managed to survive the gas, everyone has seen them… well, they saw them die making a stand, and these organizations want to be able to show that they're partnered up with Torchwood, even if the people don't know that it's Torchwood. But, because for the most part Torchwood is an unknown, that would be why they're… well, they're telling us that they're friendly, but at an arm's length. But people have been asking to see Jack since the video went viral, and since no one else can actually produce him…"
"It means that anyone who can would have a bloody good public image for as long as that video's known about."
"Exactly."
Gwen looks troubled by this, and Tosh knows it's because she hadn't actually told more than a select discrete few to inform of Jack's absence.
Cardiff knew, to a degree, what Torchwood was about, and it was significantly more now that Jack and Ianto were internet stars, and were keeping the tourists who were flocking to the area from getting in the way.
Thankfully there wasn't too many, as most of the world's civilians seemed to believe that Jack and Ianto were from somewhere in London, as that's where the video were filmed, or else from somewhere in the states from Jack's accent.
Very few were considering Wales, as Jack made it obvious even in the video that he was accustomed to being in charge, and people had naturally assumed that Ianto was more of a follower.
(If they only knew, Tosh thought)
They wouldn't be able to keep things quiet for long, at least not to those who had enough clearance to be in the know, but until they could get their feet back underneath them, the arse kissing they were getting was needed.
Neither Tosh nor Owen could wait until the Hub was rebuilt.
The privacy tarps (needed to hide the fact that there was anything actually being put back under the Plass) would be put up soon, and things might start going back to normal.
(Torchwood Normal.)
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Ianto had the personal information and banking statements of three people spread out before him.
These three people probably thought they were pretty clever. He couldn't help laughing at that.
Don't get him wrong; he knew they were smart.
They didn't get into big companies like they had without being smart, no, but it takes a moronic person to think that it wouldn't be noticed when some funds were skimmed from.
It was obvious to Ianto where the consistent fudged numbers were coming from in each company, the inconsistent numbers standing out to him like a sore thumb.
It was fairly crafty of them to do things the way they had, and Ianto had to wonder how many smaller businesses had people doing the exact same thing.
(He wouldn't go after them like he was here, though, though it didn't keep him from thinking about going in and digging up evidence later…)
Embezzlement.
He hadn't thought much of it before, the stray newspaper article talking about how so-and-so got caught after stealing X amount of cash from their company only driving home the fact that people were stupid, because honestly. Couldn't anyone see how obvious it was when people fudged numbers?
If Ianto was planning on embezzling from a company he was working for, for one thing he wouldn't do it so obviously, and for another he would kept the fudging as simple as possible.
These people were taking a couple thousand dollars regularly, and were likely going to be caught within the year.
Ianto would have probably only take enough to plump his checking account to not worry about groceries.
Now, however…
Mainframe had already set up an account for him, faked personal information set up in a number of places, and now Ianto only had to wait for the card to make it to his neighbor's mailbox (getting up early enough to check it before the owner of the building would be easy enough), and then start funneling the excess funds to his account.
He rather liked the idea of playing Robin Hood against these embezzlers, even if he wasn't actually giving it to the poor.
(Well, he was poor, so…)
Mindy Haste, Joshua Clemmings, and Ivan Krushcaw would find that the extra bits and pieces they'd been plumping their accounts with would be missing, and because they would be paranoid already, they wouldn't be able to mention the unaccountable funds.
Ianto would feel bad if it weren't for the fact that each and every one of them were living already lavish lifestyles, and from what he could see they weren't embezzling due to any sort of need.
(He was glad he hadn't left the choice to Mainframe, as the first few candidates were people who would have been ideal, except that he could read between the lines in their files to see that Tyra Shaw was trying to pay her Great Aunt's medical bills, Hank McMasters needed to put his children through school while helping his brother through PT after getting losing his leg, and Eunice Bakely had inherited the debts of her gambling father, and on top of that had to pay for her mother's care in a nursing home. Ianto kept their files and wrote an estimate on how much they would need, and made a mental note to get in contact and play an actual Robin Hood to these people so long as they stopped putting themselves at risk. He already had an idea as to how he could erase what they'd stolen already, to make the fudged numbers less obvious, to put up a cloak of plausible deniability around them so long as they stopped embezzling.)
He didn't know what, exactly, he would be doing when they were caught.
He could, conceivably, continue finding people who were embezzling out of greed, and he could continue to stick to looking through companies that could survive losing a couple thousand dollars, but people weren't stupid enough not to notice a trend.
There would be people looking closely at the embezzlers accounts, and would be able to see that the amount of money that was being added to their accounts wouldn't match up to what was being taken, and Ianto knew that even it happening to three embezzlers would raise some eyebrows.
It wasn't even a possibility that there would be any evidence that would lead authorities to his account (Mainframe would make sure of that), but mysterious loss of money always set companies on edge, and as much as part of Ianto still had it out for 'The Man' (something he still equated with large companies), people could lose jobs over this.
And if anyone noticed that in these three cases there was some remarkable similarities… Again, Ianto knew they wouldn't find him, but even knowing that didn't settle his paranoia.
Didn't keep him from worrying about the risk.
He and Mainframe set up the transfer of money to his account, and Ianto had vague thoughts about setting up to get a checkbook, if only to be able to say that he had a checkbook to nowhere.
(Though who he'd say this to, he didn't know quite yet. He'd certainly be able to laugh about it to Gwen and Jack later though)
He shifted in his seat, wondering how he might be able to get better furniture in here later, and when he felt the handkerchiefs in his pocket his mind went to his Mother.
And then a thought hit him.
And it was fantastic.
He remembered an urban myth about someone embezzling money from a bank, but such a small amount that no one caught on to him. He'd been stealing the half penny of interest that accumulated over time, a thing that Ianto had known about only because he'd had his mother, a banker before she'd had Rhi and Ianto, explain it to him. The interest was usually something like 2.5 cents, and what this supposed criminal had done was take the half-cent and keep it in a Swiss Bank account.
According to the myth, he'd stolen at least a million dollars from the collective interest before he'd been 'caught'.
(But, as it was an urban myth, Ianto didn't take much stock in it. His Mum had only told him the story so that he knew that even the Bank could make mistakes, and he should pay as much attention to his accounts as possible, and to do that he had to do his math homework)
But the possibility was there…
He directed a thought to Mainframe, and he got a feeling like 'yes' along with an of course cuff to the back of his head, and Ianto smiled.
Perhaps it was an urban myth because no one could place the blame on anyone.
Perhaps because it was someone musing on the possibility one night at the bar, and it got passed around until it was something that maybe possibly happened.
(This was Ianto's theory as to how all Urban Myths started, as speculation that passed around a bar or club or, more recently, in a forum on the Internet)
But it was certainly a possibility.
Information on various banking cervices came up on the screen, and Ianto started reading.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
When the Archives were uncovered, it took all three of them to keep UNIT from blasting the door open in their enthusiasm to get inside.
"There's nothing wrong with our Archives," Gwen just about growls out, "and we'll be keeping it sealed off during construction after we get a few things from inside."
There were a few token protests, men and women in lab coats waffling about checking the supports, making sure that nothing was jostled or stored incorrectly (something that made Tosh want to laugh and cry and rage at them, because it was Ianto who put everything away), and it took Gwen looking ridiculously pregnant, Owen being more snarky than usual, and Tosh not trying to soften any of what they were saying to get them to back off enough to get inside.
The doors sealed themselves behind them, and it only took one glance around the obviously jostled, but still immaculate space for Tosh to start tearing up.
It took seeing Ianto's desk and workstation for Gwen's already unstable hormones to crack, and she started crying too.
Owen did his best to comfort them, but the fact that he easily found a box of Kleenex (for fuck's sake, does he have to have everything conveniently placed where you need it?) soon got to him too, and they all ended up sniffling while sharing one of the bars of dark chocolate Ianto had in his desk.
They did find the hard drives with all of the Torchwood programs on them, and Tosh takes the file with pictures with them when they left, locking up the door behind them and activating the emergency lockdown.
"Wouldn't want anyone accidentally wandering in there," she says with a shaky smile to the pouting UNIT researchers, and heads back home—back to Ianto's place—immediately to start working on updating the programs for installation.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
It's been a week since he'd escaped The Firing Range when slips off the edge of the roof and breaks his neck.
It sounded a lot like someone was chewing ice in his ear, and then he was waking up to a fine mist of blue, gold, and green and a phantom headache only just dissipating from behind his eyes.
There had been a long night of rain and sleet, and it had all frozen by morning, and he could smack himself for being so careless, but it was chilly and he'd wanted to check his neighbors mail for the debit card (it'd been two days since he'd had Mainframe set up the account), and so it really wasn't a wonder that his sneakered foot had slipped on the ice.
(Ianto wondered what it said that his last thought before waking up was that he should really get himself a pair of winter boots)
When he gets up, he's hungry, but not out of his mind with it, but it's still a horrible feeling, and he sways on his feet, dizzy from it.
He goes to take a step, but has to stop because whoa, that was different.
First of all, he's gotten used to the feeling of being short again, and is more than certain that right now he's almost half a foot taller than he was before.
Second, he's wearing boots.
Third, he wasn't wearing boots before. If he had been, he wouldn't have slipped. This is something he knows as fact.
But that's less distressing—less distracting—than the sudden height difference, so he focuses on that instead.
He looks down at himself, taking in the boots (ones he remembered as ones he'd worn when he was a teenager, and actually being smart about what he wore when slogging through the slush and snow), the jeans, the edge of his jacket, and looked at his hands for any sign of anything else different.
Nope—wait.
He looks down again, and frowns at the hem of his jacket.
When he'd bought it, it just about came down to his shins it was so large, and now it ended mid-thigh. The sleeves weren't going past his fingers any longer.
What?
A thought has him suddenly looking up and around (and yes, he was indeed a couple of inches taller), checking to see if anyone had seen his inelegant flop to the concrete, and sighing when he didn't see anyone.
He sped towards the street, still thinking (because it made no sense at all that dying would prompt an early growth-spurt, none at all), and is only slightly distracted by the fact that yes, there was the letter with his new debit card in it, and wasn't that a relief, because on his way back to the alley, he catches sight of his reflection in a cracked window.
He freezes.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Owen knows that Tosh has been repressing her emotions quite a bit. He knows this for a fact.
People see Tosh and assume that she's meek because she's quiet, or else that she's only really passionate about technology, and Owen knows this as false.
This is proven the day that Tosh goes ape-shit crazy and provides the most entertainment he's had since before he'd died the first time.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Ianto lifts his hands to poke at his face, like there was even the remotest of possibilities that the weak reflection was just a very washed out doppelgänger of himself as a teenager who happened to have mimicked him entirely thus far, and even goes to wave his hand in front of his face.
He'd be embarrassed at himself, except that no, that's him.
That's him, as a teenager, not an 8 year-old, waving his hand in front of his face like a loon, a look of wide-eyed shock on his face.
On his own face.
Well, he was certainly shocked.
The letter dropping from his hand startled him, a slightly damp sounding thwack as it hit water, and he hurriedly picked it up and rushed to the relative safety of the alley. It was much easier to get to the ladder, a run and a jump rather than needing to get something to stand on, and he clambered up, letter clutched in his hand.
He didn't really know why he was rushing (it wasn't like anyone would know, right?), especially since he spent a great deal of time just leaning against the inside of the door, staring at the wall. It wasn't like he was going anywhere, or doing anything in particular.
A noise had him turning, and he blinked at the Cat. It gave him an unimpressed look before sitting down and pointedly washing it's paw.
It was somehow reassuring.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Myfanwy was being kept in a warehouse in an area where people wouldn't be able to hear the occasional screech from the dinosaur.
Food was brought out to her, and nesting materials were given for her to be able to settle into the space, and Tosh, reminded of the Pteranodon by the chocolate in Ianto's desk, went to go visit.
She'd dragged Owen along, because he hadn't had a chance to look her over yet and he knew the most about her next to Ianto.
This is why he's got a front row seat to see Tosh go crazy.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
He moves away from the door and finds a nice bit of wall to slide down for sitting, staring at nothing in particular but also sort of watching as the Cat washes his paws, and tries to think this through.
Okay, he slipped (stupid), fell (alarming), cracked his neck (ugh), and…
Well, he woke up (green, blue, gold), but he'd done that before.
(He thought it was a bit silly thinking that like it was no big deal. Was this how Jack felt?)
He shakes himself when his stomach gurgles, and goes downstairs to the kitchen to get something to eat.
With a debit card he'd have to go get more groceries, stop somewhere and get cash out—
Which would now be easier to do, as he was older.
He was at least in his teens now (which still needed explaining), and teens had debit cards right?
Right…
But how…
A soft chime from his Hub-like set-up interrupted his thoughts, and he grabbed a bag of dried apricots and a package of beef jerky to work through (he really needed groceries now that money wasn't a problem), and pulled Mainframes Wires to his temples and throat.
Immediately a number of documents are up on the screen, and Ianto recognizes some of the people from the accompanying photos as Thugs from The Shooting Range.
The information is vague, the sort of stuff that's put together by frustrated police and stymied detectives and private detective agencies, but all together it did give an outline of a Mafia based in Cardiff.
It's much less funny now than it was when he'd first considered it…
(But that happens after you're brought to insanity and back, he supposed)
But what had caused the chime was the Thug's e-mail, the one that Ianto had taken the laptop off of and had been searching through for any information.
While there was some leading information in both the received and sent e-mails, there wasn't enough for him to be able to give an anonymous tip or proof to cause trouble.
In the week he'd been free there hadn't been any activity, and now…
There was a new e-mail.
The subject line said "Hello Ianto."
A thought had Mainframe confirming that there was only a video attachment, no virus or any way for them to be able to track him, so he opens it.
There's only one short message aside from the video file.
We should talk. Think about it.
It takes hardly a moment for the file to be downloaded, and it's with some curiosity he plays it.
He immediately regrets it.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
It's a bit strange to see the UNIT trucks outside of the warehouse, but Owen thinks that maybe they took over the feeding from Rhys' company.
When they get inside it's not the case.
Not at all.
"What are you doing?" Tosh demands, face slack with shock as she looks around at the equipment set up in the warehouse, eyes always coming back to Myfanwy in a medium-sized cage with wires and tape attached to various parts of her.
Owen couldn't take his eyes off of her, and thought the machines close by were modified from shock therapy.
From the tremors in her frame, he thought he was guessing right.
There's tape around her beak keeping it closed, but he can hear the muffled croon from her when her eyes land on them, and he's already moving forward before he can register anything else.
He can vaguely hear a UNIT representative talking to Tosh, talking about the tests they'd been doing on Myfanwy, and shoves the Interns away from him as he pulls the door to the cage open and starts yelling for the dumbasses to get the fuck away.
He's glad he was planning on checking on her health anyway, or else he would have to bully a med kit from one of The Interns instead of using his own.
He hears Tosh ask who authorized these tests, and hears the Rep say "Well it was such an opportunity, to be able to examine a live Pteranodon, we just had to take it," in a tone that said 'well duh', and Owen grinds his teeth.
For Fuck's sake, he hadn't thought too badly of UNIT before, as they were mostly militaristic knobs looking to meet up with the Doctor of theirs at any point, but the entire time that they've been working with them it seemed like they'd been pulling on their Torchwood One pants and making right arses of themselves.
They'd been trying to 'borrow' what they'd recovered from the Hub, they were trying to get into their files, their information, and now they were performing less than humane experiments on their dinosaur?
"Wait, what are you—Hey!" There was an abrupt sound of flesh striking flesh. Owen would recognize the sound of a good slap anywhere.
Owen looked up from removing tape, from glaring at the idiots at the controls of the machine, and saw Tosh storming to an open bit of table, already pulling her laptop from her bag.
She was typing furiously, and when the Rep and several Interns started heading over, she shot them such a wide-eyed look of menace they flinched back.
"You don't want to talk to me right now." She bit out, the manic look still on her face.
Owen was only distracted slightly from staring at her in shock when Myfanwy, freed from most of the tape, started running the longest parts of his short hair through her beak—it was something he'd seen her do to Ianto before, and had scoffed then, but now it had his throat clenching up a bit.
But he couldn't take his eyes from what was happening around him, because several of the idiots at the computers set up in the warehouse were swearing and fumbling frantically at their keyboards.
"Wh-what? What's happening!?"
"There's a virus—!"
"It's destroying everything—!"
"I can't—!"
Owen grinned, and turned back to tending to Myfanwy, spreading a balm over her cuts and giving tensed and knotted muscle a rub down.
"What are you doing?" He thought it was funny that the Rep had the gall to sound affronted, and trusted that Tosh could handle herself.
He glared away a few of the white-coated UNIT Interns when they started towards him, and rubbed the soft scales at the base of Myfanwy's throat to relax her from tensing as he gave her a mild (for her) sedative to keep her from seizing up.
"Get OUT!" The shout from Tosh almost made him jerk, "If you don't get out of here right now this virus will be sent to your entire organization."
He turned to look and saw some vested-UNIT goons heading her way, and was about to get up to help when what she said next had everyone freezing.
"You have five minutes to get everyone out of here before the virus is sent out, if you don't get out by then I won't have any time to stop the program from automatically being sent out. It'll take me two minutes to turn it off, if you even try coming back here you won't even have a Word document to fall back on." Tosh paused for a moment, eyes wide and glowing with a crazed light, "I will destroy you."
The sheer amount of manic threat dripping from her words had Owen stunned for a moment.
Apparently it had everyone else shocked into inaction as well, because it was a good minute before there was a mad scramble for everyone to grab when they could and run out, knowledge of exactly how much of a computer genius Tosh was, and Owen was mildly disappointed that they weren't going to try calling her 'bluff'.
He had no doubt she would, could, and maybe already did do it regardless of the fact that the last Intern was out and slamming the door behind her.
Owen finishes up checking Myfanwy over as Tosh takes maybe a minute to rapidly type on her laptop before sitting down with a sigh.
She still had that crazed look in her eyes when she looked around the warehouse, so for now Owen was quiet.
He'd only ever seen her go that ape-shit before, and that was when she'd made a group of Nazi-extremists who'd gotten their hands on alien tech illegal immigrants, posting their information and pictures in government records as Terrorists.
This time he got to see it in person.
Because when she's crazy, Tosh starts destroying files.
It was fucking fantastic.
Myfanwy crooned.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
He couldn't look away.
He didn't know how long he'd been watching, didn't care, because what he was seeing—
Well.
It was obvious what the video was of within the first few shaky seconds that the camera was being setup, because video-Ianto had been shot within that time.
It was eerie seeing a younger version of yourself shot.
It was terrifying.
A shot, blood splatter, a moment of silence, and Ianto in the video breathed out a cloud of green, gold, and blue before breathing in like he was waking up and opening his eyes.
(Rinse, repeat. And again. And again.)
In the moment between breathing in and waking up, his body took on a glow, making him temporarily featureless, a white outline blotting out even his clothes, and then he was older.
Had clean clothing on, as well, as moments before the white t-shirt had a mess of blood playing down the collar.
Bang! And it started again, this time the glow making him younger, the next a bit younger, the one after that Ianto jumped up to being maybe 17, after that 20, then back down to 10.
(Rinse, repeat. And again. And again. And again. And again…)
He couldn't catch a pattern in all that, and even as he was distracted by the horror of it all, he was listening to the audio to make sure he hadn't said anything implicating, but the most incriminating thing would be if anyone got 'Torchwood' from his mangling of it.
('Soggy logs', 'flooded forest', and 'cold trees' were hardly things that would have someone thinking ah, yes, Torchwood…)
An unknown amount of time later, he did actually start seeing something in the age jumps, though it wasn't anything as useful as a pattern; he was seeing the maximum and minimum ages.
The youngest he ever seemed to go was about 8 or 9, and the oldest he went was right up to his actual age at 26…
It was almost funny that any time he got close to his actual age, his clothing changed somewhat to fit.
Ianto's just dying again now in the video, and he's maybe 23 and wearing a waistcoat over a red button-up, and then he's shot again (and again, and again, and again, and again…), and he's 12 and still wearing a waistcoat, but this time with his old favorite blue shirt on, the one he'd had to throw out because he'd managed to get beet juice all over it.
(It would almost be nostalgic to see all this, if it weren't for… well.)
He's starting to get a feel for what, exactly, has been happening (though he's no closer to figuring out how, or why), when the screen abruptly freezes on him during his in-between glowing thing (Powering up? Transforming? Morphing… Shifting? He'd figure out a name for it later) and a voice over comes on.
"I've no doubt you're watching this through, so I won't bother with any of that 'if you're getting this' nonsense, because I know you're watching this. You're clever."
Ianto recognizes the voice, both from memory and from the video earlier, as the Boss Man. He didn't get something so cliché as a shiver when he heard the man's voice, though he freely admitted that hearing that voice directed at him (him, not him in the video) made his stomach turn.
"I'm clever too. So I'm sure you've noticed like I have that every time you die, you come back between the ages of 10 and sometime in your mid-twenties. That's nice. I have to wonder how old you actually are. I wonder if you've noticed how much you seem to look like our little Internet star, Ianto Jones. That might be a coincidence, but… well. Ianto Jones died about 5 months ago, you understand, and it's interesting to me that you, a man who seemingly cannot die, should happen to look like a man who died so famously.
You see I'm the sort of man who sees things like that, and starts putting things together. I'm the sort who notices that two men from a seemingly secret organization—"
Here the freeze frame changed to show a candid photo of the SUV, Torchwood engraved on the side, and then switched to another candid photo, this time of Jack looking like he's been run ragged, standing next to the ruins of the Hub. Ianto hadn't seen Jack look so broken since Grey.
"— happen to be walking around. You've certainly been able to hide better than this one, true, but we've already figured that much out. You see; I have been looking into this… Torchwood, and because I notice things, I see that every time there's something a bit too strange or unreal, that SUV of yours pulls up, and nothing is heard of it again. The more fanciful might think you're involved with aliens, it almost seems like you're encouraging that thought, but I can see past that. I'm clever. But so are you… so lets see one last clip, the last clip as it so happens, and then let's get down to business."
The picture changed, and it was much later, Ianto's head was lolling and he'd look drunk if it weren't for the manic energy in his eyes, unfocused as they were, and he watched, sick to his stomach at the reminder of how hungry he'd felt, how trapped he was, and watched through what he'd lived through. Watched as he laughed like a madman, as he didn't show one bit of remorse as the thugs in the peripherals clutched at their throats, eyes bugging out, and collapsed.
He watched as the ropes around him turned mulchy and pliant, watched as apples appeared and invisible fingers pluck at his clothing, twirls his hair. There's no sound of burbling brooks or creaking branches, there's no rustle of leaves, no murmur of dozens of children's voices speaking just out of key, just Ianto walking about with his hair and clothing moving as if from a strange wind, getting supplies, packing up his things, sticking his tongue out at the chair… It was out of a horror movie, his childish face uncaring as he stepped over dead bodies. As he checked their pockets.
He listens to his own message after video!Ianto notices the camera, and doesn't like the look in his own eyes. Doesn't like that his smile is so sharp when he grins and asks:
"Do you believe in Faeries?"
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Tosh frowned from her workstation, only now noticing a pattern in police reports.
She frowns because it's an obvious one when you know what to look for, though it'd been jumbled and misfiled—she could practically hear the grumbles of each officer as they filled out the forms.
"Gwen, Owen, come over here and look at this."
Owen looked at the reports she'd compiled, and shrugged.
"Kids playing a joke, it'd be the best time to do it, everyone being sensitive about trauma and all that rot…"
"What's so strange Tosh?" Gwen squinted and tilted her head, trying to see the connection.
Tosh pulled up the casualty sheet from the Thames house, and matched up the reported kids names and ages.
"Bloody hell…"
There were about 30 reports from the police, and each matched up with one of the people who died by the Alien's gasses in Thames House.
Tosh took a moment to pull up the documented childhood photos of the people who died, and matched them up with the surly looking children in the photographs supplied by the police.
"So all these children who came saying they'd been turned into children…"
"Might actually be the adults who were exposed to the 456's gas." Tosh finishes.
"For fuck's sakes, there were more than 50 casualties!"
"That means there are more than 50 adults out there turned into children… but wait, that means…"
Gwen turned wide eyes back to the list, eyes landing on one name in particular.
Tosh nodded, and Owen swore.
"Ianto."
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
"I do. Or, I'm interested in what you're considering Faeries."
The screen had changed to a videoconference looking set up with the Boss Man sitting calmly looking at Ianto.
"I'm very interested in this, as well as anything else Torchwood has developed… particularly, this ability of yours to not die. Or at least not die for long. It does seem like it has it's draw backs, that… intense hunger of yours, but the fact remains that you cannot die. I had found some clues that hinted towards someone in Torchwood being immortal, but I had pegged it as the American who seems to favor civil war era clothing…
Though who's to say it isn't the both of you? Really, what I'm interested in right now is what gas that was in Thames house, and if that's the 'faeries' you're talking about. Or something else? Some other sort of weapon? I'm not convinced that aliens exist but, fair point, it is a possibility. However, alien or not, that gas is… extremely interesting to me. I've been doing a bit of research after you left our care, and I found out something very interesting. I'm sure you already know, in fact, I'm almost entirely certain you were the one who started development of it… but the interesting thing is that the hundred or so people who died in Thames house, ah, along side you and your partner, it seems that now there's an abundance of children wandering about claiming to be someone who was trapped in Thames house when it was gassed."
Ianto felt a cold chill crawl up his spine, and his mind raced. There were others like him? That was both horrifying and comforting, and he didn't want to think about what would be happening with over a hundred maybe-immortal people running about.
Boss Man leaned forward, mouth quirking up into a small smile.
"I am very interested in this. Especially after meeting you, Ianto Jones. I have to say, it is fascinating to have an 8 or 9 year old walk and talk like they're more than 5 times their age, but what puzzles me is that they, unlike you… don't get back up after getting shot in the head."
Ianto's stomach suddenly tried to rebel, bile rising to the back of his throat and eyes watering. He couldn't hold the bags of jerky and dried apricots, and the bags hit the scuffed wood flooring, and he brought shaking hands to his face.
He felt overly hot and shivering cold all at once, just staring at the interested, considering look in Boss Man's eyes, and had to shut his own as another wave of nausea hit.
"So what is different about you and your partner, Mister Jones? What did you do differently?" He tilted his head, considering, and smiled.
"We should talk, sometime. Differently than last time, I think, as you're very good to keep from saying anything even after being shot constantly for a week. But we're both adults, at least mentally, and I'm sure we can come to some sort of… agreement.
If not, well, I'm sure the public would be very interested in the footage from our week together… I wonder what they would do to you, hmm?"
Boss Man sat back, posture relaxed, confidence just about oozing from his pores, and smirked.
"Take your time, think about what I've said and… Well. Keep in touch Mister Jones."
The screen went blank, and, Ianto forced himself to calm down, bend down and place his head between his knees, and breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
When he was no longer gasping, he forced himself to open a new document, and put down all that he'd learned, everything he needed to do, and made sure Mainframe was looking for any and all copies of Ianto being killed over and over again, but told her not to delete them yet.
He had the beginnings of a plan, but before that, he had work to do.
.-~-~-~~-~-~.
Again, sorry it's not a full 10k, but it's pretty close, and now my word count is at 50, 256!
I'm happy you seem to be enjoying this, especially since I plan on continuing this, and to people waiting on my 'It's Green' story, I'm sorry, but I'm having a character block. Please be patient!
Tell me what you think about this reveal, hmm?
Well, not really a reveal, I kind of already said it in chapter 1…
Anyone less confused?
And should I be including a sort of trigger warning for this chapter as well?
~Doodled93~