Prose : Suspicion
Ianto’s at his desk when Jack walks in on him. He’s wearing a frown and his voice is equally dark as he starts talking.
“Take that. I’ll have all the directions to that warehouse I was on about. And take Tosh too. See if she can help you find anything of interest.”
Jack places an A5 piece of paper in Ianto’s hand. Ianto looks at the parchment closely. It seems heavy than normal paper, and the general texture feels slightly different, in the way that a counterfeit paper note feel’s different to it’s real counterpart.
“Sir?”
“What?” Jack says sharply, turning on his heel and looking at Ianto as though he’d like nothing more than to hit him.
“It uh…” Ianto stammers, taken back by Jack’s demeanour. “It tells me that you very much hope I’m single...” Ianto’s eyebrows rise. “And into men.”
”What?”
“Really, look.”
Ianto thrusts the paper back into Jack’s hands, feeling his cheeks heat as he looks at the floor and shoves his hands into his pockets.
”How long have you been at Torchwood, Jones?”
“A few years now, Sir. Why?”
“You shouldn’t be affected by this.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me, sir.”
“ Psychic paper, Ianto. You should’ve had training against it.”
Ianto raises one eyebrow. “What?” He blinks. “Sir?” he adds a little softer, feeling that it would be uncouth to disregard manners just because of a mysterious piece of paper and the revelation that his boss would like to find out more about him than is normal.
“Never mind.”
Ianto thinks that he could be imagination, but he’s certain that Jack’s own cheeks tinged slightly pink.
”Look just… oh give that here.” Jack points to a pen which Ianto immediately hands over. Jack scrawls out an address on an old post-it note and hands it to Ianto, with the pen. “Go and get the SUV. Tosh will meet you around the back.” When Ianto doesn’t move, Jack shouts at him. “Go!”
Ianto quickly grabs his coat, tripping over himself in his haste to leave. “Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”
He shuts the door and immediately Jack is left in the silence of the reception, with only the soft ticking of Ianto’s large wall clocks to keep him company. He stares down at the psychic paper’s message, which even now is beginning to fade. Ianto’s thoughts shouldn’t have projected onto the paper, but they have, and Jack feels uneasy as he reads them, as though the world have a darker meaning than what’s written.
He can’t know. He mustn’t.
Crumpling the paper in his fist, Jack tucks his hands into his pockets and set’s off down the corridor toward the base, wondering about their new receptionist, and whether he’s more than the tea-boy that he seems.
------
Jack’s eyes are beginning to sting in the dim, orange light of his desk lamp. His fingers move quickly over the keyboard of his computer, quickly scanning the pages of the Torchwood archives until he’s found what he wants. Sitting back in his chair, he holds his chin whilst reading the on-screen information.
IANTO JONES
Age: 25
Previous position: Torchwood One Senior Agent
Race: Human
Home planet: Earth
Underneath this are three options; Pictures, Profiles and Cases. Jack’s mouse hovers over the picture link. Looking over his shoulder, Jack casually clicks the link, feeling a kick of adrenaline. Explaining how stalking one of his own employees is beneficial to him, to the Torchwood Team, would be fun to say the least. But he’s only checking up on his staff, Jack reasons with himself.
Ianto’s face is sombre in each one, authoritative and business-like. Jack smiles fondly as he sees him in a suit that has yet surfaced in his time at Torchwood Three, a dark grey number with a blue waistcoat and tie. He looks younger, but his eyes hold the same amount of wisdom that Jack knows now. He looks for a second more before flicking to the next screen, an outline of his last days in Torchwood One. A final entry, made by Ianto himself, ends the case files.
There’s also a side note underneath, which Jack clicks as inconspicuously as he can. There’s a single sentence there:
This employee has further decided to accept an offer of the counselling services provided, starting at the date underlined.
29th December, 2006
Jack frowns. This is something new entirely. He’s about to dig deeper when sharp footsteps outside his office startle him. He’s just turned off the screen to his computer when Ianto walks in, a fresh pot of coffee in hand.
“Alright, sir? Thought you could use a refill.”
“I thought you’d gone, Ianto,” Jack says, breathing not quiet normal, quickened by the prospect of being caught snooping.
“Oh, you know. Last minute jobs and all that. When are you going?”
“I’ll be off soon,” Jack lies, taking a sip of his coffee. “Perfect,” he adds, pulling a face of ecstasy for effect, “as always.”
Ianto grins. “Very good, sir.”
He goes to leave when Jack calls him back. “Ianto?”
“Sir?”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about?” Ianto’s left a kit-kat by the coffee pot which Jack picks up and begins to unwrap.
“How do you mean, sir?”
Jack smiles and shakes his head. “Never mind, Ianto. Just… don’t keep secrets.”
Is it Jack’s imagination or does Ianto look slightly paler than when he first walked in?
“No, sir.”
“See you in the morning, Ianto. Sweet dreams.”
“You too, sir,” Ianto says, but his smile looks a little too strained to be real.
As soon as he’s gone, Jack switches on his screen again. A boss can never be too careful, Jack reminds himself. Checking the door a final time, he clicks on the link written by Ianto and prays that whatever he finds won’t make him have to look for a new secretary; one’s with such nice suits are so hard to come by now-a-days.
------
“Damn, Ianto! You scared me. I didn’t expect to see anyone down here so late.” Jack’s hand goes to his breast, where he feels his heart beating faster than usual. Lost in his own world, Jack had been startled at the seemingly invisible appearance of Ianto.
“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just sorting out these records. Hundreds of year’s worth of stuff is back here. It’s going to take that long to file it all.”
“And I couldn’t think of a better man for the job,” says Jack, smiling as the tips of Ianto’s ears turn endearingly pink. “I wanted to check the basement, actually. It seems Gwen and Tosh have stumbled into a bit of a ruckus involved some alien hamster-like things. I’m pretty sure we had some cages down--”
“I haven’t seen any, Sir. But I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
Ianto smiles, wide and reassuringly. Jack frowns.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Check the autopsy room. I’m sure Owen had some down there.”
“Right…” Jack looks at Ianto, until the latter turns away, swallowing awkwardly. “Ianto?”
“Sir?”
Again, Jack stares. He watches the way Ianto’s hands tremble slightly as they hold the piece of paper in his fingers, the way his forehead shines with beads of perspiration, the way his eyes flick to the corridor behind him.
“Never mind, Ianto.”
Ianto lets out a soft breath.
Jack pretends not to notice.
“Carry on.”
“Take that. I’ll have all the directions to that warehouse I was on about. And take Tosh too. See if she can help you find anything of interest.”
Jack places an A5 piece of paper in Ianto’s hand. Ianto looks at the parchment closely. It seems heavy than normal paper, and the general texture feels slightly different, in the way that a counterfeit paper note feel’s different to it’s real counterpart.
“Sir?”
“What?” Jack says sharply, turning on his heel and looking at Ianto as though he’d like nothing more than to hit him.
“It uh…” Ianto stammers, taken back by Jack’s demeanour. “It tells me that you very much hope I’m single...” Ianto’s eyebrows rise. “And into men.”
”What?”
“Really, look.”
Ianto thrusts the paper back into Jack’s hands, feeling his cheeks heat as he looks at the floor and shoves his hands into his pockets.
”How long have you been at Torchwood, Jones?”
“A few years now, Sir. Why?”
“You shouldn’t be affected by this.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me, sir.”
“ Psychic paper, Ianto. You should’ve had training against it.”
Ianto raises one eyebrow. “What?” He blinks. “Sir?” he adds a little softer, feeling that it would be uncouth to disregard manners just because of a mysterious piece of paper and the revelation that his boss would like to find out more about him than is normal.
“Never mind.”
Ianto thinks that he could be imagination, but he’s certain that Jack’s own cheeks tinged slightly pink.
”Look just… oh give that here.” Jack points to a pen which Ianto immediately hands over. Jack scrawls out an address on an old post-it note and hands it to Ianto, with the pen. “Go and get the SUV. Tosh will meet you around the back.” When Ianto doesn’t move, Jack shouts at him. “Go!”
Ianto quickly grabs his coat, tripping over himself in his haste to leave. “Yes, sir. Very good, sir.”
He shuts the door and immediately Jack is left in the silence of the reception, with only the soft ticking of Ianto’s large wall clocks to keep him company. He stares down at the psychic paper’s message, which even now is beginning to fade. Ianto’s thoughts shouldn’t have projected onto the paper, but they have, and Jack feels uneasy as he reads them, as though the world have a darker meaning than what’s written.
He can’t know. He mustn’t.
Crumpling the paper in his fist, Jack tucks his hands into his pockets and set’s off down the corridor toward the base, wondering about their new receptionist, and whether he’s more than the tea-boy that he seems.
------
Jack’s eyes are beginning to sting in the dim, orange light of his desk lamp. His fingers move quickly over the keyboard of his computer, quickly scanning the pages of the Torchwood archives until he’s found what he wants. Sitting back in his chair, he holds his chin whilst reading the on-screen information.
IANTO JONES
Age: 25
Previous position: Torchwood One Senior Agent
Race: Human
Home planet: Earth
Underneath this are three options; Pictures, Profiles and Cases. Jack’s mouse hovers over the picture link. Looking over his shoulder, Jack casually clicks the link, feeling a kick of adrenaline. Explaining how stalking one of his own employees is beneficial to him, to the Torchwood Team, would be fun to say the least. But he’s only checking up on his staff, Jack reasons with himself.
Ianto’s face is sombre in each one, authoritative and business-like. Jack smiles fondly as he sees him in a suit that has yet surfaced in his time at Torchwood Three, a dark grey number with a blue waistcoat and tie. He looks younger, but his eyes hold the same amount of wisdom that Jack knows now. He looks for a second more before flicking to the next screen, an outline of his last days in Torchwood One. A final entry, made by Ianto himself, ends the case files.
There’s also a side note underneath, which Jack clicks as inconspicuously as he can. There’s a single sentence there:
This employee has further decided to accept an offer of the counselling services provided, starting at the date underlined.
29th December, 2006
Jack frowns. This is something new entirely. He’s about to dig deeper when sharp footsteps outside his office startle him. He’s just turned off the screen to his computer when Ianto walks in, a fresh pot of coffee in hand.
“Alright, sir? Thought you could use a refill.”
“I thought you’d gone, Ianto,” Jack says, breathing not quiet normal, quickened by the prospect of being caught snooping.
“Oh, you know. Last minute jobs and all that. When are you going?”
“I’ll be off soon,” Jack lies, taking a sip of his coffee. “Perfect,” he adds, pulling a face of ecstasy for effect, “as always.”
Ianto grins. “Very good, sir.”
He goes to leave when Jack calls him back. “Ianto?”
“Sir?”
“Is there anything you’d like to tell me about?” Ianto’s left a kit-kat by the coffee pot which Jack picks up and begins to unwrap.
“How do you mean, sir?”
Jack smiles and shakes his head. “Never mind, Ianto. Just… don’t keep secrets.”
Is it Jack’s imagination or does Ianto look slightly paler than when he first walked in?
“No, sir.”
“See you in the morning, Ianto. Sweet dreams.”
“You too, sir,” Ianto says, but his smile looks a little too strained to be real.
As soon as he’s gone, Jack switches on his screen again. A boss can never be too careful, Jack reminds himself. Checking the door a final time, he clicks on the link written by Ianto and prays that whatever he finds won’t make him have to look for a new secretary; one’s with such nice suits are so hard to come by now-a-days.
------
“Damn, Ianto! You scared me. I didn’t expect to see anyone down here so late.” Jack’s hand goes to his breast, where he feels his heart beating faster than usual. Lost in his own world, Jack had been startled at the seemingly invisible appearance of Ianto.
“Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean to frighten you. I was just sorting out these records. Hundreds of year’s worth of stuff is back here. It’s going to take that long to file it all.”
“And I couldn’t think of a better man for the job,” says Jack, smiling as the tips of Ianto’s ears turn endearingly pink. “I wanted to check the basement, actually. It seems Gwen and Tosh have stumbled into a bit of a ruckus involved some alien hamster-like things. I’m pretty sure we had some cages down--”
“I haven’t seen any, Sir. But I’ll be sure to let you know if I do.”
Ianto smiles, wide and reassuringly. Jack frowns.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Check the autopsy room. I’m sure Owen had some down there.”
“Right…” Jack looks at Ianto, until the latter turns away, swallowing awkwardly. “Ianto?”
“Sir?”
Again, Jack stares. He watches the way Ianto’s hands tremble slightly as they hold the piece of paper in his fingers, the way his forehead shines with beads of perspiration, the way his eyes flick to the corridor behind him.
“Never mind, Ianto.”
Ianto lets out a soft breath.
Jack pretends not to notice.
“Carry on.”