1
Early sunlight glows around the corners of the curtains.
A hand feels about a woman's long sleek mocha leg. Ianto Jones makes love to his girlfriend Lisa Hallet, their two bodies twisting underneath white sheets. He is 26. Handsome. A sweet boyishly open face. Bright, green and eager to prove his worth - a horse itching for its gate to open.
She is out of his league. 27. Brazilian. Equal parts brains and beauty. He knows it. They both know it. He has no idea what she sees in him and yet… he dares not question it.
Sometimes it looks like she is the parent trying to coral a child.
He certainly feels inferior.
..
.
A shower is running as moments later Ianto is in the shower, water streaming off his body. He is cursing softly as he knows he will be late again, but how could he deny her?
Lisa, still wrapped up in the covers, watches Ianto dress with the usual flurry of ties and socks. "Stay."
"Can't." Ianto grunts "I have got work and you have got your stalker class."
"We can call in sick." She play coughs.
"Tempting but I gotta get down to the site."
Lisa flops back in the sheet with annoyance. He does not like being told no "They really can't survive a day without you?"
"They can. Just not today." He pants as he hops to get a shoe on "The New York office is sending another rep to make sure the hotel is coming together right and my boss needs me to play translator between him and the new foreman. Silly American wanker does not speak Cockney and you know as well as I do the guys will fuck with him."
He ties his shoes, finishing up.
"Wait. I wanna look at you."
He heads over. She stares at him with gorgeous amber pools of affection "You look blurry."
"That's cause you're not wearing your contacts." Ianto is no nonsense as usual in the morning, no time for games.
"Good point." Lisa pulls a face at him as she has long since given up trying to amuse him in the mornings. Not a morning joker. An early riser who hates the fact she isn't.
Ianto smiles. Kisses her forehead.
"Are you absolutely sure you have to go?"
"Yes."
She drags him back onto the bed and they disappear under the covers. Kissing. Giggling.
In love.
;
;
;
The London streets are teeming with people, trading spices, hawking crafts.
Ianto hikes up a long empty sidewalk, talking on his phone "Hey, it's me."
(listens)
"Yeah, I know what time it is, but this is the only time I get to call."
(listens)
"Yes, I do think it's funny you have to get up early - that's why I signed up for the 'piss off your friend plan' I'm really happy with it."
(listens)
"Okay, I'm sorry, do you want me to hang up?"
(listens)
"Alright then, tell me: how's mum?"
He pauses, listening - face falling a bit.
"Okay. (listens) Okay. (listens) I don't know. Hopefully. I'm getting pretty hammered with work lately, but maybe sometime next month. The checks are still coming to you, right?"
(listens)
"Yeah, I know that they're not but it's all I got right now."
(listens)
"I know. And you? How you holding up?"
"I hear ya. Stay strong Girl"
(listens)
"Okay. You too. Later."
He hangs up, arriving at the former hotel since converted into affordable housing units. Nine stories high. Walking up, Ianto finds his elderly Neighbour struggling to wheel her laundry cart up the cracked marble steps. In Welsh he says softly "Let me help you."
"You are a Godsend. Thank you."
He takes the cart, brings it up to the door and swings it open, letting them both inside. Concrete walls, water-stained and graffiti-laced. Wires hang from the ceiling like snakes. Loud too. Walls so paper thin we can hear the baby wailing in 5-C; the couple screaming in 3-B; and the alarm still buzzing in 7-F.
Ianto arrives at a paint-chipped door at the end of the corridor - the only apartment on the floor - and removes a laser-cut key from his pocket. It slightly larger than a regular key - with a series of encrypted diodes along its edge. Ianto slips it into the lock, entering.
An alarm BEEPS.
Ianto punches in a five-digit code shutting it off. As soon as he closes the door - - SILENCE.
The whole world just seems to disappear. As he steps further inside, first thing we notice about the apartment - - how little there is to notice: bare walls; bare floors; no windows; no real furniture. It looks like it was robbed but since Ianto isn't worried, we can only assume this is how it always looks.
Ianto enters the kitchen then opens the fridge and tosses in the food he bought with him. It lands beside fifteen unlabeled water bottles, six Red Bull cans … and twelve packets of O+ BLOOD.
Ianto enters another room. Pitch black until a light flickers on and a dozen monitors wink to life, presenting twelve views of the eight-room apartment. Ianto sits down in a steel chair and picks up a secure red phone. A flat voice answers.
"Satcom ten."
"Torchwood Three"
"Designator?"
"Echo Bravo two three."
"Transferring."
Ianto pops open a Red Bull and takes a sip. The ancient coffee machine he turned on as he entered is still coming to life and he knows he will have to clean it before he can enjoy it.
We suddenly hear a second voice. Female. Humourless.
"Landlord."
"This is House 007-J. We're open for business." Ianto replies calmly.
A series of electronic clicks then…
"Confirmed."
"Any reservations?" Ianto asked like it is no big deal either way.
"Nothing in the registry."
Ianto pulls a face and we see his annoyance at the lack of work to do "Walk-in's? "
"Not expected."
Ianto registers disappointment. He hangs up and sits back to glare at the walls.
"Bugger."
.
.
It's now late at night as hard rain assaults the windows. Drips down the glass.
The space is sparse: just a table, sofa, two chairs. Ianto occupies one of them. In front of him: six steel gun pieces and a stopwatch. Ianto clicks the stopwatch. Shuts his eyes and starts putting together the pieces forming a Sig-Sauer pistol. He clicks the stopwatch again, opens his eyes and checks his time: 13 seconds.
A good time - unless you're Ianto.
"Shit." He frowns. Knows he can do better.
Later Ianto does a series of push-ups, body tightly muscled. Then Ianto does a series of sit-ups, drenched with sweat.
.
.
Ianto stands on a stool, reaches up and switches out a spent lightbulb.
.
.
A bare room with a bed, dresser, bedside table. Ianto changes the sheets.
.
.
Ianto sits at the island, reading three newspapers … in three languages. His cell phone buzzes. He checks the display: Lisa.
"Hey, whatcha up to?"
"Going out. Gonna meet some friends at Baronets in about an hour. You wanna join us?"
"I don't wanna crash your party." Ianto grimaces. Lisa's friends all hate him anyway. Weird white guy in a three-piece suit. Seriously… not their scene. His is still unsure what she is doing with him when her only family do not like him either. He feels… I don't know. Like some sort of punishment she wields over them for something, their disappointment and distain fuelling her pleasure.
They exchange good-byes - then click - hang up.
.
.
Ianto crosses the hallway entering the Surveillance Room. Ianto steps inside and gives a quick once-over of all the monitors. Sees nothing out of the ordinary. He steps back out and gets four steps away before the intercom BUZZES.
Loud.
Ear-piercing.
Ianto turns around … curious.
Ianto steps back inside. Sees on one of the screens: A Red Cap standing outside, pelted by rain, ringing the apartment.
Ianto hits a talk switch. Says in an officious voice that leaves no doubt that he does not like the Red Caps "Yes?"
"I need a room."
"Do you have an account?" Ianto asks with the same bored voice.
"Daniel Red, UNIT Insurance."
Ianto picks up the secure phone. We hear a familiar voice.
"Satcom ten."
"London."
"Designator?"
"Echo Bravo two three".
"Transferring."
Pause. Adrenaline now fully coursing through Ianto's veins.
"Landlord."
I need an urgent check on a Daniel Red. R-E-D."
"Account?"
"UNIT Insurance." Ianto replies, watching the screen. Red looks up the street, sizing up the threat level of the locals hanging outside a bar on the opposite block.
"Account confirmed."
They hang up. Ianto looks at a screen. Red's CIA dossier appears. Ianto registers his intelligence ranking. Flinches. This guy's serious. He hits the talk button. Looks at Red on the monitor. "How many beds?"
"Six."
Ianto looks at another screen. He has a concealed camera. A screen shows that camera's vantage point: a black van is parked in front. "Luggage?"
"Just a bag."
Ianto hits another switch - BUZZ! - and hurries out the room.
Red swings open the door and holds it open for five more men rushing up. They're part of a UNIT Extraction Team. Serious guys with serious gear.
They drag in with them a limp body in a good. Ianto punches in a lock combination on the closet, slides the drawer open and withdraws a Field Box. He slips in a key, opens up the box and withdraws a red backpack. He zips it open, revealing cash, a passport, a secure cell phone and a Sig-Sauer .9mm. He takes the gun. Slides it back. Leaves the bag. Tucks the weapon behind his belt, pulling his shirttails over it.
Loud knocking draws his attention. Ianto opens the door to revel Red, wet with rainwater.
"You the housekeeper?" Ianto nods. Red continues "I'm Red. Where's the guest room?"
A steel bucket is thrown into the sink. A hand flicks the faucet. Water fills up the bucket.
A padded room. Sound-proof. A single steel chair and table. A body gets thrown onto the chair. Hard. Makes a sound. Immediately gets cuffed and shackled. Hands and feet.
A bag is removed from his head: He locks eyes with a one-way mirror. A steely resolve.
Ianto looks at the prisoner through the mirror … taken aback. "That's Jack Harkness."