Ten past seven and it's early even for him... - Jack/Ianto
Ten past seven and it's early evenfor him. He's tired still (although the coffee should soon fix that)and there's not much to do before everyone's in for the day, but it's better than being home along, listening to the cars drive by, slowing down as they turn the corner.
He's not seen Jack yet and there'sno sign of Myfanwy; he's alone and the quiet hum of his computer seems loud in the empty space.
He logs on, and after years of typing in the same thing (JonesIa, 675239), he doesn't even have to think. He glances through the maintenance and security reports from last night,and doesn't see anything interesting.
Except a date, three weeks ago on Thursday, underlined in the left hand columns - if he clicked on it, it'd take him to reports of a power failure and links to pages about a cyberattack. He considers checking his workmate's inboxes. Never anything interesting there. Email from Mum, seeing how they are (Are you still alive? Or have you forgotten our number?), email from Dad, some joke that's been around Hotmail four times by now (You'll love this one!), email from younger sibling, with the title 'So So Sorry!' (Honestly, it's not my fault!)
Sometimes he doesn't think this job's worth it. Looking at walls that remind him of Lisa, surrounded by people who'd only notice if he were gone when lunch didn't turn up, sending too many letters starting We regret to inform you and ending with Deepest sympathies, to people he hopes he never has to meet.
He stares at his monitor, coffee in his hand, until an email fills the screen.
FROM: JACK
TO: IANTO
You're in early. Something the matter?
He clicks reply and wonders if emails like this, from Him are the reason he doesn’t get up, walk out, and not come back.