altverse log: jack & ianto team up, the rift has other plans
altverse log oo1: december 31, 2008
Things are quiet in Cardiff - and the rest of the world - for once; with aliens frequently deciding to interrupt Christmas festivities, then perhaps they have decided to leave New Year's Eve alone. Ianto isn't particularly concerned with celebrating so much as maintaining the quiet evening that they're currently having. The Hub looks better than it has since things reset (undoubtedly in no small part due to the team he'd kept working ... a few small - and subtle - budget cuts at Torchwood One went a long way toward funding replacement equipment for the Cardiff branch), although currently stacked with neat piles of boxes containing computers, yet-to-be-assembled desks (and chairs), and a random assortment of things from paper shredders to filing cabinets. It's a little like moving in, but Ianto isn't particularly worried about the unpacking and setup process. He's perfectly capable of setting up all the computer systems himself, if he has to, but they'll take things one step at a time - it will take a small army with brooms to get rid of all the packing peanuts, to be sure. But because he's not completely non-conscientious of the occasion, he has procured a bottle of champagne (chilling in an ice bucket), a pair of glasses, and ... well, not a vintage record player, but a dock with an iPod in it, just to provide a bit of music (that is vintage) to break the silence.
Ianto has set his jacket aside, rolled up his sleeves, and is currently armed with a box cutter. Look out, ladies and gentlemen, he's a dangerous man.
It isn't the typical definition of a 'quiet evening in' where holidays are concerned, but Jack nevertheless appreciates the time well-spent; it might be New Year's Eve and he might be spending it with Ianto, but there's a level of quiet productivity in the Hub that reminds him of all the previous holidays he'd spent in the sprawling maze beneath the Millennium Centre. After too many Christmases and a long stretch of a honeymoon, Jack has to admit that he's looking forward to getting back to work, whether in London or Cardiff (though he's secretly happy that it's the latter, if only for tonight), and shrugging off the somewhat sluggish, post-holiday-lethargy. "Kinda nostalgic," he notes, glancing around the cleaned, but virtually empty interior of the central Hub, attention falling first on the champagne, then on Ianto. "I thought we might outgrow this place, you and me, but it almost feels like coming home after everywhere we've been." The way he says it - everywhere - suggests that he doesn't just mean physically, but emotionally and metaphorically in regards to their relationship; they've been a lot farther than either of them no doubt thought they might when the extent of what they were was falling asleep in the confines of Jack's bunk.
Rolling up his sleeves with careless grace, Jack crosses the void between the relatively untouched space of his office and where Ianto's preparing to open up boxes, offering to help with the simplicity of his presence.
To be certain, there is some part of Ianto that will never be able to watch Jack do something as simple as walk across a room without staring, just a little ... and he does stare (just a little), a small smile quirking at his lips. "Everything else we've gone through helped us get this far," he says thoughtfully, "but ... I can't help but feel the same." Having anticipated receiving (or asking for) help, he retrieves a folded box cutter from his trouser pocket and tosses it to Jack. "I do wonder, if I hadn't gone to London, if we'd still be lurking around fancying we were keeping a secret." His tone is a little more amused than wistful - no regrets, no ifs, not really, just simple wondering for wondering's sake - as he says it. Ianto bends to cut the tape on a box containing a desk, figuring it's best to start from the ground and work their way up. It's doubtful they'll get everything done, but they have time to kill before midnight.
Deftly catching the folded box cutter, Jack flicks it open and kneels next to a similar box - this one marked as a desk chair, as they might as well do things in order with matching pieces - to slice the tape across the top. "I don't think so," he answers carefully, letting his mind wrap around the idea of Ianto never leaving for London. The 'what if,' however simple and just for amusement's sake, brings to mind a plethora of varying scenarios (as a Time Agent is virtually trained to think in, a butterfly's wings flapping in South America causing a tidal storm across the Pacific) and none of them are pleasant. Torchwood One, despite whatever Ianto might think about his involvement in it during the year that wasn't, had been a necessary component in Britain's recovery after Saxon and Jack can't imagine what might have happened - to his team, to Kate, to the country - during those first few months of that awful year had it not been for London and Ianto Jones.
"Tosh knew," he says instead of delving into the various unpleasant lines of logical reasoning running through his head, "and so did Owen. We weren't as secret as we thought we were. Besides, you took me home to meet your parents and I practically proposed to you through your charge nurse when you were in hospital. I think we were pretty damn obvious about it by the time you left."
Laughing softly at the reminder of that occasion - meeting the parents - and just a little more sedately at the mention-by-proxy of his accident, both occasions which feel as if they'd happened ages ago, Ianto shakes his head slightly. "Maybe we were." Necessity or not, he still felt very miserable on frequent occasion about his decision, from a perspective as lover and as eventual leader of what was left of Torchwood, and it's something that he's only even now learning to kick the habit of beating himself up over. He pushes away the thoughts and tips the box onto its side, sliding out a plethora of pieces, and a sheet with an instruction diagram. He's come prepared, of course - because one can't exactly have delivery men bringing pre-assembled furniture down into their secret underground installation - and slides over a basic tool kit with everything they'll need to put the things together (or so he hopes; there's always at least one thing missing ... that, or too many parts left over at the end). He's just knelt and begun to sort through the parts and set them into separate piles when an alarm chirps from the one remaining, functioning computer - over in Jack's office. "Want me to check that?"
“What, leave me alone with the tools and some-assembly-needed office furniture?" Jack ribs gently, despite knowing his way very well around an assortment of tools, machinery, and step-by-step Ikea instructions in broken (or no) English. "I got it, don't worry." He'd only just finished cutting open his own box with a similarly dismantled-with-instructions desk chair inside and hadn't yet reached the out of the box and attempting assembly phase. Leaving the closed box cutter on the box itself, Jack pulls himself to his feet and hurries back to his office to check the chirping alarm. "Unidentified flying object over Splott," he calls over the swell of vintage music, half leaning over his desk to reach the keyboard and read the monitor sideways. "Organic, non-uniform flight pattern suggests it's a lifeform ... " Jack, propping himself up with a hand, continues to read the scrolling text on the screen, mostly to himself, before remarking further to Ianto over his shoulder. "I think we've finally located our missing mascot."
Though ordinarily Ianto would have simply gotten up to check on it on his own, without comment, he's secretly relieved when Jack goes to do so instead - saving him from the potential disaster of knocking pieces out of place, scattering screws and bolts, and the like. He's busily trying to balance base A on its side so that he can screw in support B, while trying not to get it crooked, when Jack calls back the source of the alarm. "Good," he calls back. "If we didn't find her soon, I was going to start looking for reports of missing sheep." Ianto climbs to his feet, dusting off his trousers, and walks to the office door to lean inside, eyebrows raised. "The question is, how do we get her back inside? She won't fit in my car or even the SUV."
"Last time she was out, she tried to nest in St. Saviour's rafters," Jack notes, linking his wristband to the computer terminal (after a bit of a stretch over the desk, though God only knows why he didn't just walk around initially ... except the rampant need to show off his arse). "She might head back there - her flight pattern reads a little erratic, but in the general vicinity, like she's lost." The computer terminal chimes that whatever information he downloaded into his wristband has finished and Jack straightens to face Ianto, apparently engaged in a little critical thinking outside the box if his expression is to be believed. "Uh ... we tried nets last time, right? Nets and a complicated series of sedatives. She was smaller back then, still fit inside the SUV, but we underestimated her size - Owen and Suzie had to catch a cab back to the Hub when she took up too much backseat space." Jack pauses, tilts his head in contemplation, then frowns. "We've got her food enzyme in storage, should be undamaged by the flood. Trail of breadcrumbs back to her cage?"
Almost - almost - completely distracted from the subject at hand by the very distracting (he really can't be blamed for staring!) sight of Jack bending over the desk, Ianto takes a moment to refocus his mind on the actual conversation at hand. "Um," he says intelligently, trying to recover his wits ... and, possibly, his dignity. Then after a moment of actually thinking about it, Ianto gives in to a small shake of his head, slightly incredulous. "That's a crazy idea." Blunt response is completely there. "But maybe crazy enough to actually work," he relents. "She's wandering around a bit like a dog, isn't she? Knows roughly where she should be, just isn't sure how to get back in the gate. Proverbially speaking." He rolls his sleeves back down and moves for his jacket. "I'll drive." Not really an option, as he grabs the keys to the SUV. Safety-conscious Ianto, already terrified of the Jack Harkness School of Driving, does not want Jack, no matter how much he loves, admires, and respects the man, driving down a road, hunting a pterodactyl, and checking his wristband while doing so.
Jack takes a moment to right his own sleeves, going so far as to button the cuffs (which no doubt gives Ianto just enough time to grab the SUV keys and spare himself the indignity of being tossed around the passenger's seat by Jack's reckless lane discipline), then grabs his greatcoat where it's been carefully hung in his office. "Great, I'll grab the enzyme and meet you up at the Plass in five," he agrees, bounding off towards the nearest storage locker full of pterodactyl food sauce without argument against Ianto's blunt assessment of his 'cunning plan.' From storage, Jack cobbles together some equipment and, taking the shortcut up to the Plass a few moments later, steps off the invisible lift platform with what looks to be a glorified spray gun affixed to a large bucket of, well, food enzyme. Cunning plan, indeed!
Waiting with the SUV as promised, the entire scenario feels familiar in a nostalgic sort of way; Ianto even has his Bluetooth in place with another one waiting for Jack once he reaches the vehicle. It's almost, well, exciting to be back in just such a familiar situation, and at the very least it's comforting. He waits long enough for Jack to get inside and settled, then heads off in the direction the GPS indicates. "I've taken the liberty of patching in the feed from inside the Hub as well," he notes, suddenly back on the 'business' side of that line between business and pleasure. "I'd figure there are enough New Year's festivities, fireworks and the like, that we can beg off any reports to the local authorities as drunken hallucinations." Although by his estimation, Myfanwy's learned to lay low, if no one's seen her in the nearly two months she's been loose.
“There was a police report of illegal firework activity earlier this evening in the area. It's probably what brought her out," Jack hypothesizes, settling into the passenger's seat gingerly with his equipment and accepting the Bluetooth with a hint of a grin. This is exciting, at least according to Jack, as he's always harbored a perhaps not-to-secret love of working with Ianto. They make a good team, anticipating each other's next move and clearly understanding intent, able to read into the minute details and determine from them the next course of action in varying situations. "I figure," he continues, picking up the line of conversation from several minutes before as they start off, "if a trail of enzyme isn't enough to lure her back, we can always try pheromones and mating calls." Although his tone might be deceptive, Jack isn't entirely joking. "I'd feel sorry teasing the poor girl, but I figure ... hell, primitive reptile, she's probably got one hell of a mating instinct." At that, he pauses and considers the implications of his statement. "Then again, we might not want to set it off. Last resort?"
"You might not care to make yourself look like the pterosaur equivalent of the alpha male," Ianto suggests drily, keying up the device that conveniently changes all the lights; a few moments later and a rough prediction of GPS coordinates plus stop light changes are synched together in the best manner to allow them to breeze casually through. He hasn't put the lightbars on, mostly for the sake of keeping Torchwood a little lower profile than before. Now that they have the London branch to worry about, rather than a small pocket sect that only conspiracy theorists would actually believe in, there seems to be a slightly more pressing need for subtlety. "I'll never forgive you if you kiss Myfanwy at midnight instead of me," he adds, a wry grin lifting his lips.
"At least we know pterosaurs lay their eggs in nests," he quips, skirting dangerously past the issue that will never be spoken of again rather gracefully. As Ianto syncs the GPS with the SUV navigational systems and traffic light bypass, Jack consults his wristband for an update on Myfanwy's flight pattern, which seems to be holding steadily in a small radius around, as predicted, St. Saviour's Church. A few key taps on the tiny wrist-bound display and the GPS updates accordingly. "Perish the thought, darling," he answers cheekily, blowing Ianto a bit of a kiss from his side of the front seat. "I plan on having her back in her cage well before midnight so I can give you a proper snog."
"I'll remind you of that when we get back to the Hub and find the champagne swimming in a bucket of melted ice." Though he tries to sound utterly heartbroken over the thought, Ianto can't keep the amusement from his tone. Really, after celebrating Christmas more times than he would have liked, and the thoroughly relaxing (if at intervals, unexpected and even more exciting) honeymoon getaway they'd shared, he isn't really worried about the occasion. He turns his eyes back to the screen, then downshifts and takes a left, before noting, "Let's start small and conservatively hope that we manage to get her to do anything at all before midnight."
"I'm not missing my midnight kiss over some featherless bird," Jack remarks, trying to sound as thoroughly grumpy at the prospect as Ianto had attempted to sound over the champagne. Truth be told, they're both more than likely too well-celebrated to be bothered over the notion of New Year's Eve traditions in the face of actual work that needs to be done, but ... "I think if we keep midnight in mind for some sort of goal, we'll be good. I don't want this turning into the clusterfuck it was last time." Last time. Attempting to catch a pterodactyl with a net and a tranq gun. Jack definitely doesn't want a repeat performance. (Though he suspects he'll work easier with Ianto on the issue than he had coordinating an entire team and that, more than anything, is a nice way to spend a supposedly meaningful holiday evening - in sync with someone.) "How should we do this? I could stick with her, keep her focused on the food scent while you plant the trail." That might sound like Jack is offering himself up as pterosaur bait - which might be an honest assessment of the plan.
Jack is just full of cunning plans tonight, Ianto reflects, and although he isn't sure he likes this suggestion any more than the one that currently has them riding toward their escaped pterosaur, he has a feeling he won't be any more allowed to object to it inevitably. "I've spent more time around her, she's used to me," he argues just the same - on principle, of course, because it's not likely to do much good. "I used to feed her and clean out her cage ... I dare say she likes me." If a prehistoric pterosaur, slipped through the Rift, is actually capable of doing such a thing.
"I've spent more time with her," Jack points out by way of counter-argument, though his tone doesn't suggest he's discounting Ianto's opinion on the matter. "I'm sure she likes you - being the bringer of food that you were for so long - but she knows me." He pauses only briefly to consult his wristband again, checking that Myfanwy hasn't changed course and only confirming that, for the moment, she's stationary - a red blinking dot over the St. Saviour's Church indicated on his tiny map, no doubt indicating that she's landed on the church's rooftop or, worse yet, managed to worm her way into the building. "Besides, she's can get tetchy when she has trouble finding her food in all the enzyme. If she snaps, well ... I can take a few pterosaur bites," Jack asserts, though rather grimly. He doesn't like the idea of dying, having not done so since he was aboard the Valiant, but if push comes to shove ... better him than Ianto.
Still displeased over that, Ianto can't argue the better point of logic that Jack has applied to the circumstances, and with a small sigh, he falls silent again, following the GPS directions to make the appropriate turns and lane changes as they reach them. The silence isn't uncomfortable by any means, more companionable for lack of anything better to say, but his expression is thoughtful during it. "ETA two minutes," he says after another moment's passing. Then he draws in a breath. "And Jack. Just because you can take it doesn't mean you should. I know you're going to do whatever you have in your head is best, but ... be careful." He doesn't say it, but the unspoken for me, if not for yourself seems to be appended onto the end of the statement. He won't actually bring that into a situation that is so clearly professional, not personal, but he's confident Jack will be able to sense it just the same.
"I - " don't want to die anymore, he doesn't say, keeping himself adhered to the strict professional barrier they've somehow erected between the team they make at Torchwood and the team they are in their personal lives, decidedly not reaching across the center console to touch Ianto's hand reassuringly. "I'll be careful," he finishes, adding a curt nod to the statement as if to seal the proverbial deal, "I just don't want to take any unnecessary risks." I just want you safe, he can't say, realizing perhaps for the first time how difficult it will be to keep his feelings from clouding his professional judgment.
Though more conscientiousness of their personal feelings is definitely at play - more than they would have admitted in the past, they is ... some part of him feels it had been there a lot longer than he would have wanted to admit - Ianto keeps it together and resists the impulse to seek the reassurance of touch. "Don't take any unnecessary risks with yourself, either," is all he says, quietly, as he stops the SUV in front of the church. In his mind, immortality doesn't mean an open invitation to throw oneself onto the proverbial bullet time after time. Ianto exhales a sigh and drops the Range Rover into park, then looks at the stationary blip on the display. "We'd better hurry before she decides to take off again."
"I'll be careful," he repeats, this time more steadily and with emphasis enough to make it a promise. Jack, for all intents and purposes, is done flinging himself out of windows for the sake of convenience; he died too many times aboard the Valiant to ever be flippant with his immortality again, he saw too much of the darkness and felt what lurks within it. "Hey," Jack says quietly once the SUV is parked, attempting to catch Ianto's attention at the same moment he reaches a hand out to catch his lover's chin and tilt it. He negates the center console in a fluid movement and leans over to press Ianto with a demanding kiss, thoroughly breaking whatever thin attempt they'd only just made at being professional in spite of their relationship. "We're both going to be careful," he says meaningfully once he pulls away.
Checking - just in case - for his gun in its holster hidden inside his jacket, Ianto turns at the prompting, and finds himself rather suddenly and thoroughly caught up in the kiss. He gives up on the continued pretense of professionalism - because, being honest with themselves, it's easier to simply let it go when the only company is each other - and sinks in to the kiss as long as it lasts, making a small, slightly lost noise of protest as it ends. "Yes," he answers almost automatically, then swallows hard and adds lightly, "I hope that was just an advance preview for midnight." Ianto smiles, then turns determinedly before Jack can distract him again - the sooner they get this done, the better, after all! - and opens the door to get out.
It's entirely likely, all attempts at professionalism aside, that he might be tempted to start every potentially dangerous mission he works with Ianto this way, having so suddenly coupled the fleeting mortality of his lover with the explicit danger of their work to realize just what it is being risked here. "Don't worry," Jack returns, his tone lightening to something jovial and much less fitting his current train of thought, "that was just a teaser." Though he doesn't attempt to distract Ianto again, he allows his hand to linger at his lover's jaw until he turns away and watches for a lingering moment as Ianto slips out of the SUV before making a move to do the same himself. Once out, with the glorified enzyme spray gun in hand, he hip-checks the door closed and steps around the front of the vehicle to join Ianto on the curbside in front of the church. "Plan of attack?" he asks lightly, waving the spray nozzle in an indicative fashion towards the double doors of the building.
Unaware - possibly for the best, due to his own issues inevitably stemming from the same reasons - of Jack's train of thought, Ianto gazes up at the building and reaches up to turn his earpiece on. Once he can hear the white noise on the other end, he turns back to Jack, gesturing to take the spray gun from him. "Straight up?" he suggests. "If she's gotten inside, we should find her somewhere near the top. If we're lucky, then she'll only have reached the roof." Ianto pauses, a thoughtful expression on his face as he considers the enzyme spray in his hand and the layout of the building, and their surroundings. "I'll go ahead and lay a bit of a trail out here, that way we don't end up with it going cold when she gets to the edge of the roof, and you could go up and get her moving?" It sounds like a rough plan, for starters, anyway.
Jack hands over the spray when asked and takes the moment of lull afterwards to check his earpiece, listening for the accompanying white noise of turning it on. "Right," he affirms, checking his wristband for the pterodactyl's signature to confirm that, relatively speaking, she's mostly stationary. "She seems to be milling around up there -- " Jack looks up, trying to spot the outline of Myfanwy against the dark-and-cloudy backdrop of the night's sky, but finds he's unable to distinguish the pterosaur - if she's on the roof, rather than in the church attic, at all. "Here goes nothing," he says decisively after a moment, taking the front steps two at a time to the church doors and deftly picking the lock with a subtle piece of alien tech, leaving the wide ajar in his wake as he makes his way up the winding stairwell to the bell tower. "Checking the attic now," Jack's voice cuts in over the comm, followed by the grating creak of hinges in bad need of oil.
Getting to work before Jack even makes it inside the church, Ianto pauses soon after his lover vanishes inside, looking up in distraction - he could have sworn he heard someone pass behind him, laughing, but as he turns, he finds no one there. He shakes it off as simply hearing things ... which, while not exactly a good thing, is still better than actually having someone running behind him laughing. He frowns and turns back to what he was doing, trying to concentrate on the matter at hand. The faster they get this done, the faster they get to go back to the Hub, and additionally, he needs to remain alert as support for Jack, just in case things with Myfanwy get hairier than anticipated. "It occurs to me that we should've started the trail at the Hub and then set her on it," he answers over the comm.
Jack, the ever-prepared boyscout that he sometimes pretends to be, pocketed a squirt bottle of food enzyme while in storage and pauses in the doorway of the church attic to uncap it while flicking on a small pocket-sized torch. "We took a direct route here - quickest way, main streets," Jack points out, his voice dropped to a quiet murmur over the line. "I wouldn't recommend it for the return trip. You'll need to go on ahead when you're done out there, I'll follow on foot and keep her interested. Try to take back roads." That's almost a statement of the obvious, honestly, but Jack might be a little distracted - there's a distinct squawk over his end of the line. Apparently Myfanwy found her way into the attic.
Please bring snow ... The words, choppy like they're being transmitted through a static-filled radio receiver, break across the comm, overlapping what Jack is saying. Ianto reaches up to adjust the Bluetooth, well aware that such a thing should not be getting picked up by the headset. ... and mistletoe ... Something touches his shoulder - he whips around, to find no one there, and as he does so, could swear he sees a Christmas tree out of the corner of his eye. "Jack," he says slowly, "this is going to sound strange, but -"
The line cuts out abruptly. It doesn't go to static or even white noise, just turns off, as if he's lost signal or power or something.
By then, Jack has started slowly across the attic towards the pterosaur perched precariously on one of the support beams overhead, walking a careful line down a wooden plank between rows and rows of insulation. "Ianto?" he asks, pausing to half turn back towards the attic door and the general direction of his lover. It takes him a few seconds to realize the line between them is dead and that alone has him rushing back across the attic, heedless of Myfanwy's alarmed shriek from the other end of the spacious room. He stops briefly by the stained glass window at the top of stairs for visual confirmation with the street below.
As viewed through the stained glass window, the distorted picture of Ianto down below appears physically unharmed but terribly confused ... he's standing there turning slow circles on the church grounds, the spray bottle discarded a few feet away. He looks down at himself, then up at the church, and toward the street at the SUV, then lifts a wondering hand to the Bluetooth headset still hooked around his ear. Ianto manages to click it back on in the process, voice coming across the line unaware and more than slightly baffled, "... how the hell ... am I in Splott?" Interestingly enough, he doesn't say it 'Sploe.'
As equally baffled as Ianto sounds over the line and looks as he turns slow circles on the front lawn of the church, Jack takes the spiraling staircase two steps at a time down from the bell tower without a second thought with regards to the sharply squawking pterodactyl he's leaving behind. Something is wrong, something far more pressing than a prehistoric bird on the loose in Splott, and that much is obvious. Whatever happened in the few seconds the earpiece cut out to inspire this much blatant confusion in his lover takes precedence. "Ianto?" Jack calls in question as he bounds out of the church via the still wide open double doors, reaching up belatedly to turn off his Bluetooth when he realizes there's no doubt an echo across the line. "What happened? You cut out for a few seconds."
Though clearly still disoriented, Ianto turns in the direction of the doors as the man in the greatcoat comes flying out of them. He blinks as he hears his name, head tilted to one side as he attempts to piece two and two together and gets ... three. Something is missing in this equation. "I'm sorry - who are you?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. He must be hallucinating; hallucinating churches, and men in vintage military apparel, and ... Splott. Why would he imagine any of that? It's a very strange dream. He's had too much to drink at the New Year's party, and it's ... yes. Drunken imaginings.
That stops Jack short, about three paces from catching Ianto up in a concerned grasp to check him over for signs or symptoms of ... anything amiss, really, and he stares for a good couple of seconds as he tries to process the confused question from Ianto. "What?" he counters with a question of his own, sounding confused and, yes, a little bit wounded.
Physically speaking, little looks amiss about Ianto, suit topped with overcoat perfectly in place, but his expression reads a bit blank as he looks at Jack. There's a question in his eyes - how do you know my name, who are you, how did I get here? Even if he must be dreaming, it seems very vivid and real. "I was at home," he explains slowly, tone laced with confusion but still rather polite, trying to relate his circumstances even though he's still fairly certain the man he's speaking to is a figment of his imagination. "We were having a party for New Year's Eve, I went to get my wife another drink, and all of a sudden I wound up ... here. Splott, if I'm not mistaken?"
Home. New Year's Eve party. Wife. Jack, if only briefly, looks staggered by this explanation; the expression progresses directly into hurt confusion, again, before he manages to school himself into something with professional dignity. "Yes, we're in Splott," he answers concisely. "I'm sorry for the confusion, but there's a logical explanation for what's happened." Or at least Jack hopes there is. He takes the remaining three steps up to Ianto - who obviously isn't his Ianto - and smiles reassuringly. "I think you'll find a set of keys in your coat pocket. They go to the SUV and we'll be needing them."
As he receives an explanation from the greatcoat-wearing stranger, it begins to become clear to Ianto that there's something wrong ... and that, perhaps, he's not actually dreaming as he initially believed. He blinks a few times, some sort of understanding - even if not really - dawning across his expression, as he reaches into his very real feeling pocket for a very real feeling set of keys. "I ... don't mean to be rude, but may I ask who you are? I get the impression that you know me, but I don't know you, and it's just a bit disconcerting." Ianto offers a small smile, one that Jack might recognize as very polite and a little pasted in place.
Oh, that is a smile that Jack recognizes - for exactly what it is - and he returns it with one of his own, which he's certain this Ianto, whoever he is, won't actually recognize as falsely polite. "Captain Jack Harkness," he introduces himself - all over again, he can't help but think - while taking the keys from Ianto's hand to unlock the SUV from a distance with a double-chirp from the keyfob. "And I'm sorry for being disconcerting. Genuinely. Just bear with me while I try to figure this out." He steps around Ianto and towards the SUV, choosing one of the backseat passenger doors to slide halfway into the seat and consult the computer terminal linked to the sole station operating in the Hub after remote starting the vehicle. Hopefully the Rift monitoring software is functioning at a capacity enough to give him some sort of read on recent activity.
"I wish I could say it's a pleasure to meet you, Captain," Ianto answers, turning to follow him toward the Range Rover. His Range Rover? Were they out together? He expels a faintly frustrated breath, hovering just far enough out of range to keep from being an obvious annoyance as he watches the man go over the computer readouts. "Under different circumstances, I'm sure I'd be a bit more personable." He slides his hands into unfamiliar pockets as he stands there, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. One thing is certain, this Ianto seems to lack a certain amount of confidence. "Are you with some sort of law enforcement organization?" he asks after a beat.
Although Jack has experience with alternate universe versions of people he's known and loved - the Doctor, specifically, who has a plethora of alternates in the Nexus - this is a decidedly new experience, given the sudden and unexpected nature of the change. While it's a natural assumption for him at this point to think that someone who looks and sounds like Ianto, but with an obviously different life is an alternate, part of him wonders if it's something a little more complicated. "I'm a hard guy to offend," he answers honestly, not looking up from the monitor or what he's typing. "And, yes, I do." Unfortunately, the single working Hub terminal has limited data on Rift activity, the monitoring software working at a fraction of normal capacity, and Jack holds back the urge to curse under his breath. He slides the keyboard away and shifts to look over at Ianto from where he's half sitting in the SUV. "You said you were at a New Year's Eve party with your wife?"
Ianto stands and wonders if he could ask for some vague explanation of what's going on ... because this Captain Harkness seems to have at least a little more of an idea than he does himself, but he doesn't speak until spoken to again, not wanting to interrupt the man in his task. "Actually," he replies, a little uncomfortable at what he might just be imagining as scrutiny, "she and I were holding the party at our house. Our daughter Alis was there, too ..." He trails off, a concerned expression crossing his face. "Are they all right, do you think? This ... only happened to me, right?"
"As far as I can tell, this is a localized phenomenon and you're the only one affected by the change." That's a lie, Jack admits to himself, because he's affected by it, too, just as he suspects this Ianto's wife and daughter - God, he has a kid in some other universe - will be affected by the loss (or, he prays, replacement) of their version. "I'm sure they're fine. Right now, I need to figure out what caused this displacement and try to fix it as soon as possible." He slides out of the SUV, leaving it running and the back passenger's door ajar, to step back over to Ianto. "I work for an organization known as Torchwood. We're not a branch of the police or government, but an Institute established by Queen Victoria in the late nineteenth century and under the jurisdiction of Her Royal Highness for the purpose of investigation of unexplained or extraterrestrial events and activities as they relate to the United Kingdom." Jack tactfully waits for that to sink in before continuing.
Somehow, Ianto feels strangely compelled to believe in this stranger, and he feels a hint of relief at having his fears regarding his family assuaged. "I ... can't imagine how strange it must be for them," he says after a beat, "just seeing me vanish all of a sudden." And why is he here wearing a suit? He distinctly remembers he'd been wearing a festive but tasteful red jumper and a pair of slacks, not a suit that looks as if he's prepared to go to his great grandmum's funeral or a job interview. Ianto allows this information about this 'Torchwood' sink in, then he draws a little closer to the SUV, a wondering glance cast about inside it. "How do you know me, then?"
"I don't," he answers honestly, if not a little cryptically, in the face of the new and much more difficult line of questioning. Carefully, Jack slips his hands into the pockets of his greatcoat and spends a dedicated moment working the titanium band off his left ring finger, trying his very best not to react to the heartfelt emotional response that twinges through him at the action. "There's a theory - some quantum mechanics sort of thing I can't begin to explain properly without a stack of graphs and a stiff drink - that says there's an infinite number of universes out there. Temporal theorists hypothesize that for every set of choices a person is presented with in their own personal timeline, a universe exists for each decision and its own specific outcome. Two roads diverged in a yellow wood and sorry I could not travel both ... except there's another, parallel universe where you did travel the road not taken," Jack explains carefully, wondering if this particular Ianto has any sort of aptitude for understanding this like his own Ianto would. "Well, assume that the theories are true. Because I know another Ianto, I work with him at Torchwood, and he was standing here while I was inside. We were talking over our headsets, there was radio silence, and when I came back, he was gone and you were here. I have a theory about what happened, but I'll need to test it."
"... and be one traveler, long I stood, and looked down one as far as I could," Ianto replies with a soft smile quirking at his lips. "I see you know your Frost, Captain." If there's one thing that he can bond with a man over, then it's his specialty: literature. He exhales another breath that sounds much closer to a sigh than the one prior, and rakes a hand through his hair, an obvious gesture of insecurity that seems strangely out of place with how put together he is in the rest of his appearance, from the neatly-knotted half-Windsor of his tie, down to the immaculately polished black wingtips. "So I'm to believe that I'm here in the place of ... another me, one who leads a different life. Who you know." He frowns, taking the opportunity to pace back and forth for a few steps while he considers this, hands still deep in his pockets. "My wife and daughter, are they ..." Ianto trails off, brows furrowed. "The Ianto that you know, is he with them now, then, in my place?"
Unable to help himself, perhaps just a little taken by the soft and familiar smile, Jack replies in kind. "Yes, I do, Mr. Jones." It's mutual interest, he wants to and doesn't say, spontaneously thinking about the similar (and wholly dissimilar) tastes in literature he and his own Ianto have. Almost ridiculously, perhaps because now he can't ask, Jack wonders if his lover likes Douglas Adams. "Yes, that's my theory. Something happened, either with an extraneous piece of technology or the spatial-temporal Rift that runs through Cardiff, to cause the switch. I'm assuming - and this is a big assumption for a situation the likes of which I haven't actually heard of - that the Ianto Jones I know is in fact in your place." He pauses there for just a moment and offers this other Ianto a small, but honestly reassuring smile. "Don't worry. He's a great guy. Your family is in good hands until we figure this out."
"I don't mean to offend, Captain, but I'm still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of the fact that I'm here ..." Hand still firmly set in his pockets, Ianto lets out another sigh, far more concerned about his situation and dejected all at once, looking down at the ground. "Much less that there's another me wandering about. Currently with my family. And that I've taken his - my - place. I hope you'll forgive me when I say that I don't care how great of a guy he is - I am - but ... I'm still concerned." He frowns, looking back up at Jack with imploring eyes. "How do I get back?"
"It'd be better if you separated yourself from him," Jack suggests, having schooled back several almost instinctive reactions to this Ianto correcting himself to identify with his Ianto. "You look like him and sound like him - and he looks and sounds like you - but you're two different people with different thoughts and feelings and life experiences." Nevertheless, Jack nods seriously to Ianto voicing his concerns. "I understand you're concerned. Believe me, I'm just as concerned as you are about my friend being in your universe. Right now, I'll be honest, I'm not sure how to get you back, but I promise you I'm going to figure it out." I need to figure it out, Jack thinks, almost desperately, because they only just finished things, only just came to a place that they could both breathe easily, and he isn't going to let that go without a fight.
This is all so confusing, and Ianto gets the vague feeling that he's somehow managed to offend the captain, but he can't be too concerned about that matter. Simply because, all selfishness completely present, he can't stop being worried about his own situation ... and his family. What will they do without him - will the imposter (because that's what the other Ianto will be, just as he's an imposter in this world) be able to come even close to filling his shoes? "I'm sorry. I don't mean to make an unfair comparison," he answers. "I ... know you must be worried about the m-- er, the Ianto you know. I'm not trying to pretend to be him or anything."
“I know," Jack answers kindly, trying to find a little more understanding himself. As distressing as the situation is, from the perspective of a significant other having just lost their spouse, he also has a job to do as an on-paper Director with Torchwood. Perhaps, with hindsight being so clear, he can understand the attempted separation between person and professional he'd thoroughly failed at keeping mere minutes before. (Or was it some sense of foreboding that drove him to kiss Ianto just then? Has he just lived over the Rift so long that he's begun to anticipate its fluctuations? ... That's ridiculous.) "I am worried, I won't lie, but I'm also certain that whatever's happened and however it's happened, I can fix it. I have a lot of years worth of experience and a lot of technology at my disposal." Whether or not he actually feels the confidence he projects for the worried alternate in front of him, Jack acts the part very well - that's another thing he's had years worth of experience doing. "Right now, we should get back to Torchwood and run some tests."
This Ianto Jones knows nothing of Jack Harkness ... at least, nothing beyond the man in the greatcoat he sees before him now, the one who works for a mysterious organization called Torchwood and who seems to have a lot more insight into what's going on with the situation. So he buys into the confidence that is projected at him, accepts easily that this is just another day in the life of someone who purportedly chases aliens and researches abnormal phenomena. Like most other humans, he believes what he wants to believe, what is necessary to believe in order to make it through the day - or, in this case, a particularly alarming and unusual situation. He nods, and gestures a bit helplessly at the passenger side of the vehicle. "I assume you want me to come along," he says quietly. "What - what sort of tests?"
"Please," Jack answers, deciding that asking nicely might go a very long way with this Ianto, "I want to help sort this out as quickly as possible." At the quiet, perhaps somewhat (and with good reason) reluctantly fearful, question, Jack tries on yet another reassuring smile - after so many years of working with Torchwood, he has quite the supply. "Nothing terrible, I promise. Just a few scans, routine stuff."
Ianto remains quiet for a brief moment, then gives in surprisingly easily to a nod. "All right," he replies, although he says it less because of the reassurance of it simply being routine, and more because ... he wants to sort things out as quickly as possible, too. He glances up to the passenger side of the SUV, then walks around to get inside (he'll assume, without argument, that he's not driving a piece of very expensive equipment he's never even seen before). "I'll be honest with you that I don't entirely know what's going on," he says once he's settled inside. "In fact, I don't know at all, but ... I want to help you in any way that I can, Captain, if I can."
Jack watches him move around to settle into the passenger's side and takes a moment to gather up the equipment - spray gun and enzyme - that had been discarded by the curb when this entire business began. He'll need to work out a way to temporarily evacuate the church - maybe a gas leak - until he can get back, perhaps with a proper team, to recover Myfanwy from where she's intent on nesting. After bundling the equipment into the back and closing the door he'd left ajar, Jack settles into the driver's seat and decidedly doesn't bother with the navigational systems to avoid traffic. "Thank you. I'm not familiar with this exact situation, but I have something of an understanding about individuals from different universes meeting. It's happened before with Torchwood, though not under this circumstances, and I'm sure it'll happen again." Also deciding it's best not to give his Ianto a heart attack with his driving, Jack takes it easy when he pulls away from the curb and starts back to the Hub. "I'm sure you have questions, I'll try to answer this as best as I can."