CHAPTER TWO

Ianto Jones looked down at himself as he buckled the lap belt in the SUV, then fiddled with the buttons on his uniform. "I feel like a prat. The waist on these trousers is too high, and the belted jacket is just odd."

"Style and cut have changed since the 40s. You look hot, trust me." Jack bit his tongue and reminded himself not to tell Ianto exactly how hot he looked, or what Jack would like to do to him. Ianto wouldn't appreciate it, would probably mention something about harassment, and Jack didn't think he could explain his fascination without revealing things he'd rather keep to himself. Still, he enjoyed the view very much. "Come on, we'll start at Archer's."

Ianto looked like he wanted to ask something, but he stayed quiet, only wincing slightly when Jack cornered too quickly. They parked in front of an older, slightly run-down building with a battered wooden sign hung out. As they got out of the SUV, Jack pointed at the sign, which featured a stylized archer aiming up at a group of three seven-pointed stars.

" 'The Archer and Stars', colloquially known as Archer's. See those stars? That particular configuration is known all over the universe as a sign of hospitality. It means that the owner welcomes non-natives and enforces neutrality. Anywhere you see those stars, there's an alien community. You could live here your whole life and walk by that symbol every day and not know a thing, but the ones who need it will recognize it a mile away." Jack opened the door and motioned Ianto through.

Archer's on a normal night bordered on the surreal, but on Halloween it crossed right into bizarre. The patrons weren't even trying to pass, and the management seemed to have decided that the best way to keep the human guests from suspecting anything was to float them in alcohol and let them chalk any strange sightings up to drunken fantasy (or, as it appeared in many cases, to simply not remember them.) As Jack let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he looked to the counter and saw a bartender he recognized. They drifted over.

"Is Yamali available?" He asked the bartender quietly. Yamali owned the pub, but had what Jack liked to call a diversified income stream; most of the unreported artifacts passed through his hands one way or another. For the most part, Jack left the underground economy to function without interference, since the goodwill of the community meant that he had ready access to information in times like this.

"Not at the moment, but I'll see if something can be arranged. If you'll come with me, please?"

Jack thanked the bartender, who led them to a back room and motioned them to a booth. This alcove was filled with creatures even more fantastical than the front room. Ianto was clearly trying not to stare, so Jack took pity on him and explained. "Most of the patrons out there can make themselves look vaguely human, and pass well enough as costumed tonight, but this place also caters to those who can't possibly look anything but alien, and this space is set aside for them. There's an alley door and an underground entrance, both marked with those stars, for those who prefer to remain hidden." A server with an elongated face and a slit-mouth without lips came over, and Jack ordered drinks for himself and Ianto, deciding it wasn't worth risking letting Ianto order for himself and accidentally get alien booze.

Ianto, who had been watching the dance floor, nodded toward a couple. "He could almost be a human in a costume, but something's not right. Only I can't quite tell what it is."

Jack looked at the alien with the pale pink pelt for a moment, then pronounced, "Proportions. His legs are too short for his torso, but it can't be a suit because his knees are correctly placed for the length of his legs." Jack pointed out the other aliens in the room, explaining how he could tell that they weren't human.

"There are things an alien trying to look human just can't fake. Limb proportions, as I mentioned. Skin, hair and eye colour are easy, but face shape is less so. You can always add, but never subtract. A creature with no nose could use a prosthetic to appear human, but not the other way around. Extra limbs can be approximated visually, but natural movement would be impossible. Even among the aliens who can pass, there are often small tells… watching hands rather than eyes or mouth when conversing, a voice that resonates oddly, standing too still, or pausing just a tiny bit before their facial expression changes, as if trying to remember the appropriate emotional response. Without knowing why, humans often find them off-putting." After about ten minutes of practice, Ianto, with his eye for detail, seemed to be picking up the knack of spotting aliens. They were in the middle of debating whether the person snuggling with the oversized anemone was human when Jack saw the club's owner, the one he had come to see.

The newcomer was bronze-skinned. Not tanned, as most people used the word, but truly bronze: metallic and burnished, with eyes that had no sclera at all, just a pale gold iris and a large round pupil. There were tendrils where hair would be, and they moved as if they were their own creature, reaching, tangling, and occasionally brushing nearby objects. The effect should have been Medusa-esque, but the tendrils weren't at all menacing in their movements. More… exploratory. Playful. The alien noticed Ianto covertly staring and laughed kindly. "I can hold them still if I think about it. I can wind them together same as I wind my fingers." The tendrils wrapped themselves into something resembling a crown, then unwound and returned to their relaxed undulations. "But like fingers, when I am not actively thinking about them, I tend to fidget." The alien turned to Jack and held out a graceful hand that looked human, except that there didn't seem to be any joints. "Captain, to what do I owe the… pleasure?"

Jack took the proffered hand and kissed it. "Yamali, you're looking lovely, as ever. Thank you for taking the time to see me. I'm sure you're quite busy tonight." Ianto rolled his eyes, and Jack knew he was assuming that Jack had shagged Yamali. He hadn't, as it happened; he didn't want to complicate their working relationship. The flirting was just for fun, and they both knew it. The alien nodded, and Jack took that as the signal to get to the point. "We tracked some energy earlier this evening and discovered that it was produced by a device that weakens the structure of the Rift. We need to find this item, and I know you follow such things."

"Can you describe it?"

"I can tell you what it does: it makes sparkles."

Yamali laughed, an odd, reedy sound that could never pass for human. "The Rift Glitter! Oh, it gets all over everything! Are you saying it's dangerous?"

Jack looked pointedly at Ianto. 'Dark Sparks', indeed! "Not in itself, no. It's the device doing damage, not the glitter itself. So you have it?"

"I brokered the sale. It looked harmless, or I'd have brought it to you. You know Nicholas Beckett? Looks like a tree?" Yamali waited until Jack nodded. "He wanted it for his costume. Apparently he was planning to put toy fairies in his branches and wanted them to twinkle."

Both Jack and Ianto flinched at the word 'fairies', but Ianto recovered first. "Do you know where he is now?" he asked.

"Not specifically, no. But try some of the bigger clubs, he wouldn't have put together a 'costume' like that if he wasn't planning to show off a bit for the locals. Maybe Club X or Metros, they're big with those of us who choose to mingle."

"We will, and thank you as always for your help." Jack held out his hand, and Yamali took it, shaking it firmly.

"It is of mutual benefit. I have other things to attend to, I hope you and your young man will visit us again? In a more social context?" Yamali winked at them, and then Jack and Ianto were left to finish their drinks and plan their search.

-OitO-

"Yamali seemed nice. Helpful," said Ianto as they walked to the SUV.

"He is. He passes fairly well among humans when he bothers to try, so he frequently acts as a go-between for those who are underground."

Ianto looked puzzled. "He? I'd have guessed 'she'."

"Technically, Yamali is both. His species has four genders: male, female, neither, and both, though you can't tell by looking. It's generally not mentioned except in the context of procreation, and it's considered rude to inquire. I only know about Yamali because I helped him when he was injured once. I use 'he' because English doesn't have a non-gendered pronoun that isn't either plural or used for an object; I occasionally wonder if that's why you lot are so stuck on a binary system."

"As opposed to?"

"Embracing diversity. It seems so limiting to need to know about someone's genitals before you can decide if you like him. Her. Whatever. See? English is terrible! Other languages aren't quite as bad, but no Earth language really handles gender well."

"There you go again: no Earth language. Where are you from, Jack?"

It always took Jack's breath away when Ianto said his name. In his own accent (Boeshane, not American, not that anyone knew that), it was flat and sharp, but from Ianto's lips it was almost lyrical. He tried to imagine how it would sound being shouted in a moment of passion, and was so distracted that he nearly missed Ianto's question. "It's classified," he responded, hoping that Ianto would let it drop. He didn't.

"And you honestly expect me to keep pretending I'm too stupid to put it all together?"

"I'd appreciate it for now." Jack was relieved to see Ianto's nod, but he knew it was only postponing the inevitable.

They reached the parking garage with the SUV just as the silence became awkward. Ianto cleared his throat and took on his usual distant, business-like demeanor once again. "We should start at Metros, Club X is on Charles Street, and that's going to be a huge mess on a night like this. And if our Mr. Beckett isn't there, we'll want to check out the rest of the places nearby anyway."

"So you know your way around Cardiff's club scene? Lead on, Mr. Jones."

Ianto snorted. "Like you don't. I saw the gleam in your eye when Yamali mentioned Club X… you just can't wait to take me to a gay club in what amounts to military fetish wear. The extent of your back catalogue is more frightening than aliens; I'm sure you've shagged your way through the place more than once."

He wasn't wrong, but Jack found he didn't want to talk about that, either, so he bit his tongue when a story sprung to mind, and drove to the first club in silence. Metros was busy, but they were able to get in with a minimal wait. Inside, the place was dark, the bass was loud, and the crowd was attractive. Jack, out of habit, immediately scanned the place for likely pulls, then reminded himself that this was business, not pleasure… and anyway, he had the hottest man in the room with him already. He didn't see Nicholas Beckett, but someone here may have. "Go mingle," he told Ianto, making shooing motions with his hands. "See what you can find out." He admired the sway of Ianto's slim hips as he walked away, then turned his attention to working the crowd.

No one had seen their tree man. Jack had spoken to a woman dressed as Josephine Bonaparte, an alien dressed as a grandfather clock, a naughty nurse (there was always a naughty nurse) of unknown origin, and an alien dressed as a human dressed as an alien from Star Trek. He'd danced with a man wearing nothing but paint and a g-string, and had a drink with a person who was either wearing a hell of a fur suit, or was a Treffalan. It was hard to tell. Still, it appeared there was no information to be had here, so it was time to move on.

Jack looked around to see Ianto chatting up a woman (or something) at the bar. If he hadn't spent the weeks since Ianto's suspension watching him carefully, and months before that lusting for him casually, he might have thought Ianto's relaxed posture meant he was actually relaxed. Jack knew better. Ianto looked at ease now because he chose to, and the moment he thought himself unobserved, everything would change, revealing his true self. He had seen Ianto completely unguarded only twice: first in the warehouse with a pterodactyl on the floor next to them, and again on that terrible night when all his illusions had come crashing down, just enough for Jack to know that he'd like to see it again. Even in the Beacons, once rescued, Ianto had retreated into his deep reserve. Ianto's public face was calm and charming, dryly humorous and causally flirtatious, but shallow, lacking the depth and fire Jack had seen when his defenses dropped. There was much more to Ianto Jones than the world ever saw. Jack made his way over to Ianto, shifting through the crowd. Up close it was obvious that the person with Ianto was alien. Jack decided to tease him a little as he led him to the door.

"Broadening your horizons then?" he asked.

"What, that girl? Why, was she… you know?"

"Yup." Ianto looked more intrigued than repulsed. Maybe he was more open minded than Jack had given him credit for? It was a hopeful sign, anyway. "Fingers just a little webbed, and her exposed midriff, which was quite attractive, had no navel. Her people are semi-aquatic egg-laying mammals. Polyamorous, too. I met a group of them once, spent the most amazing evening; they can hold their breath forever."

"I never know which of your wild stories to believe."

Jack shrugged. "I never lie about the important things, and for the rest, well, if you can't tell, does it really matter if they are true or not?"

"I suppose that depends on whether you're trying to entertain an audience or to share something meaningful about yourself. I could tell you a hundred lies about where I learned to pull a shot of espresso; it makes no difference at all if all you care about is the coffee."

"And where did you learn to use a- what did you call it? A 1953 Gaga somethingorother?"

Ianto blinked and looked at Jack, then a slow smile spread across his face. "Gaggia. My gran lived next to an older Italian gentleman whose family has owned a café since forever. He thought it was funny to give a kid a double espresso and a biscuit before bedtime, and when his hands started to ache, he taught me to use the machine. A Faemina, not a Gaggia, but about the same vintage. Left it to me in his will, actually; it's in my flat. Practically the only thing I kept, after…"

"Yeah." Ianto was right… it did make a difference if this little thing he shared was true or not. Jack knew he could find out, Tosh could check for property records and a will in under an hour, but somehow that would cheapen it. Ianto had offered this little piece of his history, this glimmer of self, and it meant something. He wondered why Ianto was opening up to him all of a sudden, if these tiny glimpses could even be called 'opening up'; things had been tense between them since the incident with the Cyberman, and with good reason. Jack knew he had reacted badly, and had suspended Ianto at least in part to regain his own equilibrium. And here was Ianto, making tentative overtures of friendship. Perhaps things could be salvaged after all.

Jack clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefully. "Well then, on to Club X!"

"You're way too excited about this. Try to remember that you're on the job and not on the pull?"

"Why not both? You were flirting with a platypus, I should be allowed some fun, too." Ianto gave him a dirty look. "Do you want me to stay close? You're awfully tempting in that uniform, you'll be less of a target if I'm with you."

"I survived cannibals, sir. I hardly thing being propositioned by a man will break me."

Jack was glad to hear it.

AN: I hope you will excuse my little coffee related tangents... including the one in the first chapter. It's a minor peeve of mine, an espresso machine is shown twice and yet people have Ianto making a 'pot of coffee' or referring to stale coffee or telling someone to pour their own (espresso is pulled fresh for every cup). And yes, the one in the show is a Gaggia. I can link screenshots and pictures. And I learned on a Faemina.

Regardless, I hope you're enjoying the ride. Last chapter tonight.