One week into his tenure as Torchwood Cardiff General Support Officer, Ianto Jones was beginning to wonder just how little sleep a human could survive on.
The first two days had been fairly as expected – he'd reported first thing and was given the basics (including where to find the coffee supplies) by Andy. The rest of the Day One was spent getting that neglected little tourist office in order. Day Two, he'd started tidying up around the central Hub. That had been perfectly normal until mid-day when Rhys ran out on a Rift retrieval and returned covered in mud with a creature that was definitely not terrestrial in a cage the size of a cat-carrier. Rhys went to shower and change and Ianto offered to take care of his muddy clothes.
Of course, the floors then needed a wash from the tracked-in mud. And then there was the little creature that looked vaguely like a blobfish caroming about on bendy drinking straws. According to Rhys, it was a creature they saw rather routinely, called a Goomba after a field agent from years ago said they looked like the mobile mushrooms in the Mario Brothers games. Also according to Rhys, they were obnoxious little pests that had a great deal of fun giving humans the slip – literally – and their diets consisted almost entirely of cellophane.
That really wasn't so bad, either. Ianto considered his first "close encounter" to be quite fascinating. Particularly considering that the thing was safely contained.
It was his second alien encounter that made Ianto begin to wonder what he'd got himself into. He'd been looking for a bucket and mop to do the floors. None of the utility closets he'd tried so far contained either. And so Ianto had ventured further down into the Hub. And opened a door to a low-lit passageway. And nearly jumped out of his suit when something big and angry slammed itself against a (hopefully!) very strong glass door, growling and snarling and clawing.
He ran dead into a freshly-showered-and-dressed Rhys who was coming down the stairs, sending them both to the ground. After getting Ianto stood up, dusted off, and settled on the couch with a cup of tea, Rhys explained that Ianto had wandered into the Torchwood 3 holding cells and met Janet the Weevil. He wouldn't go so far as to say she was harmless, but assured Ianto they'd never had a security breach in those cells. Then Rhys helped Ianto find the bucket and mop he'd been after in the first place and left him to his cleaning.
On Day Three, Ianto returned to the Hub feeling all the more confident and worldly (or, rather, otherworldly) about the existence of aliens. He felt perfectly alright with the idea of working around such creatures. He arrived and set to work straight away, brewing up a pot of coffee and finishing the tidying he'd started the day before. He hoped to get on to the archives and begin the long process of sorting that out, but before he'd even had a chance to put in a lunch order, there was a Rift alert and Andy asked Ianto if he could do the driving.
It was that Rift retrieval and ensuing chaos that lead to Rhys and Andy deciding that Ianto was going to need field and weapons training, lest he be a vulnerable liability in the field. It was a good thing they managed to get in a bit of training that day because at 4:30 in the morning, the Rift began going off the charts and didn't slow up for days. It got so crazy that by the weekend, it was decided that they were going to have to call John Hart back from his intergalactic Jack-hunt. Ianto, personally, thought they'd be better off training the Weevil in the cells how to do Rift response.
There was one day when things had gone so poorly – two civilians (as Ianto suddenly found himself calling everybody who wasn't Torchwood) hadn't survived the panick-driven attack of a lost alien. Tranquilizer darts weren't slowing the creature even a bit and Ianto, being the only one with a clear shot, was forced to make a decision he hated, aiming for the alien's eerily visible cranium.
Andy and Rhys had both spent a long while talking to Ianto afterward. Ianto didn't really want to talk about it, but he didn't want to go home, either. Somehow, being in the chilly, damp, dark Torchwood Hub had already started to see more comforting than being out there in the world. John Hart hadn't seemed especially sympathetic and had just left the Hub with an eye-roll and advice to get used to killing and death.
Eventually, Ianto had sought out a place to be by himself and finally got started on making some sense of Torchwood's archives. He'd been at it for hours, not realizing how tired he was getting until Andy rang him on his comms to check in. Ianto suddenly felt as if he'd walked into a wall and decided to call it a night. He promised Andy he was alright and was just going to finish up a few things before turning in.
Since starting, Ianto had avoided going into Jack's office. That night, without recognizing it, he wandered in to see if there was any little tidying to do before he left and found himself staring at Jack's desk. It was a veritable riot of files, papers, and random stuff, but it all seemed so static, so desaturated without Jack's overflowing life-force infusing everything around him with energy.
Staring at the empty space where Jack belonged, Ianto felt that same absence in himself. What Ianto wanted more than Rhys and Andy's sympathy or a well-ordered archive was Jack's arms around him – not promising that everything would be ok, but at least an assurance that he'd never leave. Only, Jack had left, and so entirely so that there was literally no sign of him anywhere to the furthest reaches of the contactable universe.
Again the exhaustion caught up with Ianto. He felt so weary he had to lean against Jack's desk for support, and he felt a chill invade as though he might have developed a fever. He knew it was a combination of shock and tiredness, that what he needed was sleep. He wasn't sure if it was a good idea for him to drive home being that worn out, but even the thought of walking, nothing he'd mind ordinarily, was like considering carrying lead weights all the way home.
Ianto was about to sit down in Jack's chair, just rest for a few minutes and try to decide what to do, when Rhys walked up to him.
"You look all in, mate. Why not get some sleep, Ianto?"
"I'd love some. I just don't know where to go it," Ianto mumbled.
Rhys smirked. "What, our couch doesn't appeal to you?"
"Not for a decent rest," Ianto said apologetically.
"Can't blame you. We've got bed down in the sickbay, but truthfully, they're not very comfortable and probably haven't been fixed up in years. You know… Jack's got a bunk here. You could get some kip there. It's probably pretty quiet down there."
Ianto hesitated. "Don't know if I should do that," he shrugged.
"Well, why not at least give it a go? If you can't rest, I'll give you a lift home myself, but getting your head down for a while would help."
"Maybe you're right," Ianto sighed. It wouldn't be the first time Ianto would have been in a bed of Jack's anyway.
Rhys nodded at the ladder and manhole in the corner of Jack's office.
Jack's bunker in the Hub hadn't been on the "PR" tour, so Ianto had never seen Jack's personal enclave. He might have been more curious about Jack's other space, only a fraction the size of his flat but infinitely more personal, except that at the moment, all Ianto could think of was sleep. Anyway, he doubted any of Jack's personal things would really hold a clue as to why Jack had been missing for days.
Ianto pulled off his jacket, waistcoat, shoes and belt and lie down on Jack's bed. It felt a bit awkward and like some sort of invasion until he caught Jack's scent on the pillow. It immediately pulled him back to that first night they'd spent together, how caring and attentive Jack had been with him. Ianto shut his eyes tightly against the wave of regret that rolled through him. Maybe he shouldn't have taken it to heart when Jack rejected the idea of Ianto helping get Torchwood in order. Maybe then Jack wouldn't have decided to leave.
Eventually, Ianto came to the conclusion that he was far too tired to torture himself with trying to figure out or solve Jack's disappearance. Maybe he could sort something out after he'd had some sleep, he thought, letting himself burrow in with just a whispered, "I miss you, Jack."
Ianto's dream started out quite enjoyable. He was in bed with Jack and it was no surprise what they were getting up to.
Ianto's fingers tangled in Jack's hair as they kissed hard and lustfully. There was nothing romantic or tender about it, it was all sex, and it was incredible. Ianto hooked one leg around Jack's waist for better leverage and let his head drop back in bliss when he got what he wanted. Jack, never one to waste an opportunity, immediately latched lips onto Ianto's pale throat, licking and sucking like musical ornamentation in contrast to the staccato rhythm of his thrusts.
It was absolutely as good as the real thing and somewhere in the back of Ianto's subconscious, where he knew he was dreaming, he wished he could stay in it and not have to wake up missing Jack even more.
That was until the dream changed. One moment, he and Jack where thoroughly enjoying one another. The next, Jack was screaming in Ianto's arms… but not in pleasure. Jolting awake, Ianto frantically looked around Jack's dark bunker but he was alone. Slowly, Ianto lie back down, reluctant to let himself fall back to sleep for fear of catching that glimpse of Jack tortured and in agony again. He didn't know why he'd dream such a thing, and began to wonder if precious sleep interrupted by nightmares was just another "Torchwood thing".