Dark Star: Chapter 3
Jun. 14th, 2010 11:53 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
galadriel1010Title: Dark Star
Chapter Title: Chapter 3
Challenge/Fest: CaseStory Big Bang
Rating: T
Dedication: Thanks to my wonderful artists, to everyone who's heard me rattle on about this, and to my brother for beta-ing.
Fandoms: Torchwood and Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, OCs. Jack/Ianto, mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Gwen/Owen
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Jack took a teabag from the box in his pocket and dropped it into a crazily spotted mug whilst the kettle boiled. He resealed the jar of deep blue crystals and put it back against the wall, then poured the water into both mugs and stirred them with separate spoons. “I'm sorry, Grigo. I know it's a shock.”
The Blowfish at the table sniffed, huddling deeper into his ratty dressing gown, and accepted the mug from him. “Thanks, Jack. Oh look at me,” he laughed and shook his head. “You knew him longer than I did.”
“You were closer to him, though,” Jack pointed out. He sat down in the chair opposite and watched him drinking his chiklo. “Did he have a partner these days?”
“What?” Grigo blinked at him and shook his head. “No, not recently. Likra was around a year or so again, but I've not seen her recently.”
“No bad feeling there?”
“No, not really. Just apathy.” He sighed and studied Jack. “I never figured it out, did you two...”
“Once or twice, when we were younger,” he laughed. “God, a long time ago.” He shook his head and sipped his tea. “Did he seem okay recently? Not worried or argumentative?”
“Pretty normal, really.” He set the mug down and tapped the table. “He had fallen out with Yunika a bit, I think. Things were frosty between them.”
“Didn't you date her?”
Grigo shrugged. “For a while, yeah. She was a bit career-driven, you know? Didn't have much time for us.”
Jack nodded and pulled a notebook out. “You know where she's living now?”
“Down Grangetown way, I think. She's on the books at the Star, though.”
“Been working there?” Jack checked.
“Yeah, been taking on a lot of shifts.” Grigo frowned in thought. “We wondered if she were in sort of financial trouble, or something like that? I don't think she's got a craze, mind.”
Jack made a note of that and hesitated. “I need to know where you were last night.”
Grigo's head snapped up and he made a distressed sound. “You don't think... Jack, you know I wouldn't.”
“Hey, it's okay,” he reassured him gently. “I know that, but have you never watched CSI? I need to be able to rule you out.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Well... I finished my shift at about one, by the time we'd got the place sparker, then I walked Ainii home and came back here.”
“You got to Ainii's when?”
“About half past one,” he guessed, hiding his face in his mug. “Left about two.”
Jack grinned. “Oh yeah?”
“I...” He grumbled and shook his head. “Leave it, Harkness.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands and shook his head. “Not relevant to the case, I'm just gossiping.” He paused. “I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the Hub.”
“Under arrest?”
“No,” he insisted firmly. “I know you didn't do it, but you might be able to help us, and you might be at risk anyway. You'll be safer there.”
“You think so?” Grigo looked worried, and clutched his mug tighter.
Jack patted his wrist reassuringly and flashed a grin. “You're with the Captain. I'll look after you.”
They pulled up outside the Dark Star and Jack turned to Grigo. “You okay to go in there?”
“I... guess so.” He swallowed and rested his head against the window. “Is he in there?”
“I'll make sure you don't see him, “Jack assured him. “I did the ID, so you don't have to see him if you don't want to.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “I will, but I'm not ready yet.” Jack reached across to squeeze his shoulder and he flashed him a grateful but tremulous smile. “He's in the office?”
“No, he's not. And that's all we need to see. I need you to tell me if anything is missing as well as finding that paperwork for me. Think you can do that?”
He pulled the hood up on his parka and nodded, reaching out for the door handle. “I think I need to. Let's get it over with, please?”
They approached the shielded doorway down the alley and looked over their shoulders before ducking through into the living room of the far house, which was a cosy snug. Owen appeared in the doorway at the other end of the room, where the corridor connected it to the other rooms, and kept his gun up even after he saw Jack. “Who's this?”
“Atraxet's friend, helped him run this place.” Jack gestured irritably for him to lower the gun and stepped into the middle of the room, out of the doorway. “He's going to help us find if anything is missing from the office. Is Gwen here?”
“Body watching, like you said.” Owen gestured at the doorway with his gun. “You want her to take him up?”
“I've got it covered.” He looked over his shoulder and beckoned Grigo in. “This is Owen Harper, Torchwood's medical officer. He's a moron, ignore him.”
Grigo nodded stiffly and glared Owen down. “Nice to meet you, Harper.”
“Alright, fishman,” he greeted. “Alright, Jack, I'll leave you to it.” And he did, slouching back towards the bar where Gwen was waiting.
Jack sighed at the ceiling and shook his head. “I'm sorry. Like I said, he's a moron.”
“I thought you were a good judge of character, Jack.” Grigo pushed past him and headed for the stairs, calling back loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“I didn't hire him for his sparkling wit or charming personality,” Jack admitted, shooting a warning glare towards where Gwen and Owen watched from the bar doorway. “But he's a good doctor... as long as his patients are dead.”
He stopped Grigo before he reached the top and shrugged out of his braces to pull his shirt off and fold it up. “Don't touch anything; use that if you need to. We don't want to contaminate the prints or... something.”
The blowfish closed his hand around the shirt and sighed. “You don't know what you're doing, do you? Are you ever going to catch whoever did this?”
“We've got a private investigator on the way,” Jack assured him. “We'll catch them, and they'll suffer for it. Justice will out.”
“I trust you.” Grigo smiled weakly and turned to face across the landing to the office door. It was directly opposite the top of the stairs, in what had been the bathroom before the house was knocked through. “Just the office?” he checked.
“Just the office,” Jack confirmed. “We've not been up here, so if there's anything out of place I need you to tell me.”
His gills fluttered, but he straightened up and jutted his chin at the door. “No time like the present.” With that, he stepped forwards across the short distance to the office, which stood at the top of the stairs, and used Jack's shirt to push the door open.
Inside was a scene of chaos. Papers were strewn across the floor and scattered with a rainbow of pens and a jar's worth of chiklo crystals. The desk chair had been tipped back and laid forlorn on its side, all the pictures on the walls were at an angle and books had been ripped haphazardly out of the bookcase and dropped in a heap between it and the desk. Jack grabbed Grigo to hold him back and shook his head. “The safe's still under the desk, right?”
“I... Yeah, it's...” he shook his head and stepped back onto the landing. “Jack, what happened here?”
He crouched down and knelt in the doorway, leaning forwards and propping himself on his fingertips to peer between the legs of the chair and into the darkness under the desk. He sighed and pushed himself back onto his heels. “Safe is open. Looks like it was just...” He waved a hand. “Just another violent, mindless crime in Cardiff.”
Grigo swore in his home tongue and Jack pushed up to his feet and caught him by the shoulders, holding him in place. “I swear, we'll catch whoever did this.”
“You'd better,” he snarled, snapping out of Jack's hands to pace across the cramped landing and back, footsteps thudding loudly on the bare wooden floorboards. “He was popular, liked by the sort of people you don't want to upset...” He trailed off and turned to lean on the bannister, clutching the wooden rail in gloved hands and leaning heavily. “Everyone liked him, Jack. Everyone. Why would someone do this?”
Jack's comm beeped, saving him from having to answer, and he turned away to deal with it. “Ianto?”
“Right first time, sir. Makes a nice change, I suspect. Toshiko is on her way with a selection of tech that may be useful, and lunch for Gwen and Owen.”
He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the office door, looking down the stairwell to where he could see Owen's shadow across the hall at the bottom. “Thanks, Ianto.”
“It's my job, sir. I also have the file on our borrowed detective, who's on his way over to us as we speak.” He chuckled and Jack raised an eyebrow. “He thanks us for saving him from the tedium of a high profile art theft, which sums him up fairly neatly, in my experience.”
Jack laughed as well and straightened up. “Alright. We'll come back there now. We've got a guest.”
“Duly noted,” Ianto sounded amused. “Will you be wanting coffee when you get back?”
He headed down the stairs and beckoned Grigo to follow him. “Always, Ianto. See you in about half an hour.”
Grigo's expression had turned dark, and he looked suspicious of Jack's conversation. “Who was that?”
“Ianto Jones,” Jack explained, retrieving his shirt from Grigo and redressing, “is the only reason Torchwood's still going, I sometimes think. He's our general support officer.”
“You seem very friendly with him...”
He shook his head sharply and held up his hand. “I'll just go and tell the others that we're going.”
Gwen was sitting in the doorway of the bar with her legs crossed and her chin in her hands, and she looked up at him mournfully when he approached. “Jack, can we go yet?”
“Not yet.” He glanced into the room and away quickly, not prepared to deal with that again. “The office has been trashed upstairs, so Tosh is probably going to need to go over every room.”
“Tosh?”
“Yeah, she's on her way.” He looked back at Grigo and smiled reassuringly. “I'm going to take Grigo back to the Hub. It's been a bit of a shock, and he'll be safer there...”
“He's not a suspect?” She looked confused.
Jack sighed. “No. Victim's closest friend. It's a... I'll explain it all later, once we've secured the scene. Come back to the Hub once you've had lunch, leave Tosh here watching the scene with Owen.”
“What?” Owen's head snapped up and he glared at Jack. “Why me?”
“Because there is nothing for you to do back at the Hub, and someone needs to stay here.” He chuckled and turned away. “Comparative advantage, Ianto calls it.”
They came in through the garage to reduce the chance of Grigo being seen, and entered the eerily quiet Hub. Jack stepped back to let Grigo absorb it and smiled at his amazement. “This is...”
“This is Torchwood central,” Jack finished for him. “This is where it all happens.”
“This is where you work?” Grigo turned on the spot and looked at the ceiling. “Where are we?”
“Down by the Bay, under Roald Dahl Plass.” He gestured to the water tower and stepped forwards until he could lean on a railing. “That tower goes all the way up to the surface and emerges outside the Milennium Centre.”
Grigo sighed and dropped his head. “I wish I could see the city, rather than hide in the shadows.”
“I know,” Jack commiserated. “It'll come, but...”
“Not soon enough.” Grigo joined him and looked past him into the Hub. “We spend our lives in the darkness, and the cold. But is the world outside any brighter and warmer?”
“Not in October, certainly,” Ianto's voice drifted over from the kitchen and he emerged with a tray of mugs. “Welcome to the Hub.”
Jack relaxed and turned to introduce them. “Grigo, this is Ianto Jones. Ianto, this is Grigo Atnoia, an old friend of mine.”
“Grigo.” Ianto inclined his head in greeting and offered Jack the tray. “Not the blue one, sir.”
“Yes, I had guessed, thank you.” He picked up his own mug and watched Ianto take the tray over to Grigo, eyes flickering downwards briefly. “Where did you find chiklo?”
“In the kitchen, sir.” Ianto smiled mildly and leaned the tray against the nearest desk to be able to cradle his mug in both hands. “Where else would it have been?”
Jack opened his mouth, frowning, as if about to speak, but just laughed and shook his head before turning back to Grigo. “Ianto is the administrator of Torchwood and my right hand man. The right hand always knows what the left hand's doing.” He raised his eyebrows, feigning thought. “The left hand's not always so sure, though.”
“Well, if you ever read the reports I leave for you, sir,” Ianto teased with a hint of genuine rebuke. He left it hanging and turned back to Grigo. “The captain informs me that you'll be staying with us a while?”
“Derp...” Grigo glanced at Jack and nodded, his reluctance clear. “He thinks it would be best, and I'll take his advice.”
“I find that's often wise.” Ianto smiled at Jack and retrieved the tray. “If you'll allow me to clean up, I have prepared a room for you and I'll take you down there to get settled in shortly. It's not much, but I can provide anything further you require.”
“Thank you, Ianto, but...” he hesitated and glanced at Jack again, his gills fluttering. “I don't want to be a nuisance.”
“Not at all, sir.” Ianto smiled quickly and inclined his head. “I would hate for it to be said that Torchwood's hospitality is lacking. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
He took the tray back to the kitchenette, and Grigo turned back to Jack fully with a thoughtful expression. Quietly, he said, “Jack, he is...”
Jack grinned and nodded. “Quite remarkable? Brilliant? Attractive?” He spoke loudly enough for Ianto to hear, and was rewarded with an embarrassed glare over Ianto's shoulder. “I nearly didn't give him a job. Boy would that have been a mistake.”
“What changed your mind?” Grigo asked
“Myfanwy.”
He frowned. “Muh-what?”
Jack nodded upwards, towards the gantries of the upper Hub. “Myfanwy. Our pteranodon. Ianto found her and I helped him catch her.”
Grigo's expression had morphed to one of perfect shock, and he looked around the gantries with a mixture of wariness and excitement. “You have a pteranodon? I thought they were extinct.”
“They are.” Ianto returned, still carrying his half-drunk coffee. “But we don't mention it to her and she shows no signs of ceasing to exist. She came through the Rift.”
He nodded thoughtfully, still searching the shadows. “The Rift... Lailar, we call her. I think you would call her a god. It is she who takes things... and people.”
Ianto smiled at him when he ducked his head. “I'd like to hear some more of your stories and customs, if you have time whilst you're with us.”
“Of course.” He returned the smile, growing ever more confident in Ianto's presence. “And if you could tell me some of the stories of this country... I have lived here all my life, but it is hard to meet people when one looks like a fish.”
“I'm sure,” Ianto demurred. He finished his coffee and set his shoulders, turning to Jack again. “Sir, the report you asked for is on your desk, along with a GPS device tracking our guest's mobile. I haven't yet been able to secure all the details of his time with us, but I would like to go over them with you before I do so.”
“Yes, Ianto,” Jack sing-songed, failing to hide his amusement in his coffee. “I'll go and get started on those while you get Grigo settled, shall I?”
Ianto rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the corner of a desk. “Grigo, may I give you the tour whilst Jack does his homework?”
They left Jack laughing and heading for his office, and descended through the Hub into the tunnels that extended beyond and below the main workspace. Ianto showed him the first room of the archives, with its rows of metal shelves and drawers extending into the darkness, and his own office close to them. It was in the sitting room of one of a group of suites, with panelled walls that were incongruous with the whitewashed walls of the corridor, a threadbare carpet and a collection of tables forming a right angle in the far corner from the door with a computer at one end. He smiled into the room absently. “It's not much, but I don't live here like they used to. Don't even use the bedroom. Your rooms are next door.”
Grigo pulled back to let him out of the room and looked behind them at the now-closed door. “You work down here on your own?”
“At least one day a week, yes.” He confirmed with fake joviality. “Coffee requests and the Rift permitting, of course.” He opened the next door down the corridor and stepped into the room. “Your rooms.”
“This is...” He looked around, bewildered, and laughed sharply. “Ianto Jones, you are a remarkable man.”
The room was decorated identically to Ianto's office next door, but rather than the bare archiving desks and lone computer the room was set up as a Victorian sitting room with two armchairs and a low coffee table, a desk and matching chair set between a pair of bookcases against the side wall, and photographs of Cardiff Bay against the wall in front of the armchairs. One of the pair of doors led to a Spartan but clean bathroom, and the other led to a cosy bedroom.
Grigo pulled back from the bedroom door and gestured impotently. “Ianto... thank you. I... how did you manage this?”
“I've had it prepared for some time,” he confessed sheepishly. “You're the first to suffer it, though.”
He sighed and looked around the room once more. “Jack would have been a fool indeed to pass you by, Ianto Jones. I...” He shook his head, lost for words, and laughed. “I will be more than fine here. And I think you must go keep our beloved captain out of trouble?”
“I suspect you're probably right.” Ianto ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the floor for a second, then considered Grigo again. “You can find your way back to the Hub?”
“I'll be fine, yes.”
“Alright.” He nodded once more and backed out of the doorway. “I'll be with Jack if you need anything.”
Next chapter
Chapter Title: Chapter 3
Challenge/Fest: CaseStory Big Bang
Rating: T
Dedication: Thanks to my wonderful artists, to everyone who's heard me rattle on about this, and to my brother for beta-ing.
Fandoms: Torchwood and Sherlock (BBC)
Summary: When Torchwood encounters an everyday case with far from everyday suspects, they need help they can trust. Fortunately, Ianto had an extraordinary flat mate when he was at university.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Owen Harper, Gwen Cooper, Toshiko Sato, OCs. Jack/Ianto, mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Gwen/Owen
Contains:
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its environs, occurrences and persons belong to the BBC. The original characters have disowned me.
Jack took a teabag from the box in his pocket and dropped it into a crazily spotted mug whilst the kettle boiled. He resealed the jar of deep blue crystals and put it back against the wall, then poured the water into both mugs and stirred them with separate spoons. “I'm sorry, Grigo. I know it's a shock.”
The Blowfish at the table sniffed, huddling deeper into his ratty dressing gown, and accepted the mug from him. “Thanks, Jack. Oh look at me,” he laughed and shook his head. “You knew him longer than I did.”
“You were closer to him, though,” Jack pointed out. He sat down in the chair opposite and watched him drinking his chiklo. “Did he have a partner these days?”
“What?” Grigo blinked at him and shook his head. “No, not recently. Likra was around a year or so again, but I've not seen her recently.”
“No bad feeling there?”
“No, not really. Just apathy.” He sighed and studied Jack. “I never figured it out, did you two...”
“Once or twice, when we were younger,” he laughed. “God, a long time ago.” He shook his head and sipped his tea. “Did he seem okay recently? Not worried or argumentative?”
“Pretty normal, really.” He set the mug down and tapped the table. “He had fallen out with Yunika a bit, I think. Things were frosty between them.”
“Didn't you date her?”
Grigo shrugged. “For a while, yeah. She was a bit career-driven, you know? Didn't have much time for us.”
Jack nodded and pulled a notebook out. “You know where she's living now?”
“Down Grangetown way, I think. She's on the books at the Star, though.”
“Been working there?” Jack checked.
“Yeah, been taking on a lot of shifts.” Grigo frowned in thought. “We wondered if she were in sort of financial trouble, or something like that? I don't think she's got a craze, mind.”
Jack made a note of that and hesitated. “I need to know where you were last night.”
Grigo's head snapped up and he made a distressed sound. “You don't think... Jack, you know I wouldn't.”
“Hey, it's okay,” he reassured him gently. “I know that, but have you never watched CSI? I need to be able to rule you out.”
He swallowed and nodded. “Well... I finished my shift at about one, by the time we'd got the place sparker, then I walked Ainii home and came back here.”
“You got to Ainii's when?”
“About half past one,” he guessed, hiding his face in his mug. “Left about two.”
Jack grinned. “Oh yeah?”
“I...” He grumbled and shook his head. “Leave it, Harkness.”
“Fine.” He held up his hands and shook his head. “Not relevant to the case, I'm just gossiping.” He paused. “I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the Hub.”
“Under arrest?”
“No,” he insisted firmly. “I know you didn't do it, but you might be able to help us, and you might be at risk anyway. You'll be safer there.”
“You think so?” Grigo looked worried, and clutched his mug tighter.
Jack patted his wrist reassuringly and flashed a grin. “You're with the Captain. I'll look after you.”
They pulled up outside the Dark Star and Jack turned to Grigo. “You okay to go in there?”
“I... guess so.” He swallowed and rested his head against the window. “Is he in there?”
“I'll make sure you don't see him, “Jack assured him. “I did the ID, so you don't have to see him if you don't want to.”
“Not yet,” he whispered. “I will, but I'm not ready yet.” Jack reached across to squeeze his shoulder and he flashed him a grateful but tremulous smile. “He's in the office?”
“No, he's not. And that's all we need to see. I need you to tell me if anything is missing as well as finding that paperwork for me. Think you can do that?”
He pulled the hood up on his parka and nodded, reaching out for the door handle. “I think I need to. Let's get it over with, please?”
They approached the shielded doorway down the alley and looked over their shoulders before ducking through into the living room of the far house, which was a cosy snug. Owen appeared in the doorway at the other end of the room, where the corridor connected it to the other rooms, and kept his gun up even after he saw Jack. “Who's this?”
“Atraxet's friend, helped him run this place.” Jack gestured irritably for him to lower the gun and stepped into the middle of the room, out of the doorway. “He's going to help us find if anything is missing from the office. Is Gwen here?”
“Body watching, like you said.” Owen gestured at the doorway with his gun. “You want her to take him up?”
“I've got it covered.” He looked over his shoulder and beckoned Grigo in. “This is Owen Harper, Torchwood's medical officer. He's a moron, ignore him.”
Grigo nodded stiffly and glared Owen down. “Nice to meet you, Harper.”
“Alright, fishman,” he greeted. “Alright, Jack, I'll leave you to it.” And he did, slouching back towards the bar where Gwen was waiting.
Jack sighed at the ceiling and shook his head. “I'm sorry. Like I said, he's a moron.”
“I thought you were a good judge of character, Jack.” Grigo pushed past him and headed for the stairs, calling back loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“I didn't hire him for his sparkling wit or charming personality,” Jack admitted, shooting a warning glare towards where Gwen and Owen watched from the bar doorway. “But he's a good doctor... as long as his patients are dead.”
He stopped Grigo before he reached the top and shrugged out of his braces to pull his shirt off and fold it up. “Don't touch anything; use that if you need to. We don't want to contaminate the prints or... something.”
The blowfish closed his hand around the shirt and sighed. “You don't know what you're doing, do you? Are you ever going to catch whoever did this?”
“We've got a private investigator on the way,” Jack assured him. “We'll catch them, and they'll suffer for it. Justice will out.”
“I trust you.” Grigo smiled weakly and turned to face across the landing to the office door. It was directly opposite the top of the stairs, in what had been the bathroom before the house was knocked through. “Just the office?” he checked.
“Just the office,” Jack confirmed. “We've not been up here, so if there's anything out of place I need you to tell me.”
His gills fluttered, but he straightened up and jutted his chin at the door. “No time like the present.” With that, he stepped forwards across the short distance to the office, which stood at the top of the stairs, and used Jack's shirt to push the door open.
Inside was a scene of chaos. Papers were strewn across the floor and scattered with a rainbow of pens and a jar's worth of chiklo crystals. The desk chair had been tipped back and laid forlorn on its side, all the pictures on the walls were at an angle and books had been ripped haphazardly out of the bookcase and dropped in a heap between it and the desk. Jack grabbed Grigo to hold him back and shook his head. “The safe's still under the desk, right?”
“I... Yeah, it's...” he shook his head and stepped back onto the landing. “Jack, what happened here?”
He crouched down and knelt in the doorway, leaning forwards and propping himself on his fingertips to peer between the legs of the chair and into the darkness under the desk. He sighed and pushed himself back onto his heels. “Safe is open. Looks like it was just...” He waved a hand. “Just another violent, mindless crime in Cardiff.”
Grigo swore in his home tongue and Jack pushed up to his feet and caught him by the shoulders, holding him in place. “I swear, we'll catch whoever did this.”
“You'd better,” he snarled, snapping out of Jack's hands to pace across the cramped landing and back, footsteps thudding loudly on the bare wooden floorboards. “He was popular, liked by the sort of people you don't want to upset...” He trailed off and turned to lean on the bannister, clutching the wooden rail in gloved hands and leaning heavily. “Everyone liked him, Jack. Everyone. Why would someone do this?”
Jack's comm beeped, saving him from having to answer, and he turned away to deal with it. “Ianto?”
“Right first time, sir. Makes a nice change, I suspect. Toshiko is on her way with a selection of tech that may be useful, and lunch for Gwen and Owen.”
He sighed and leaned against the wall next to the office door, looking down the stairwell to where he could see Owen's shadow across the hall at the bottom. “Thanks, Ianto.”
“It's my job, sir. I also have the file on our borrowed detective, who's on his way over to us as we speak.” He chuckled and Jack raised an eyebrow. “He thanks us for saving him from the tedium of a high profile art theft, which sums him up fairly neatly, in my experience.”
Jack laughed as well and straightened up. “Alright. We'll come back there now. We've got a guest.”
“Duly noted,” Ianto sounded amused. “Will you be wanting coffee when you get back?”
He headed down the stairs and beckoned Grigo to follow him. “Always, Ianto. See you in about half an hour.”
Grigo's expression had turned dark, and he looked suspicious of Jack's conversation. “Who was that?”
“Ianto Jones,” Jack explained, retrieving his shirt from Grigo and redressing, “is the only reason Torchwood's still going, I sometimes think. He's our general support officer.”
“You seem very friendly with him...”
He shook his head sharply and held up his hand. “I'll just go and tell the others that we're going.”
Gwen was sitting in the doorway of the bar with her legs crossed and her chin in her hands, and she looked up at him mournfully when he approached. “Jack, can we go yet?”
“Not yet.” He glanced into the room and away quickly, not prepared to deal with that again. “The office has been trashed upstairs, so Tosh is probably going to need to go over every room.”
“Tosh?”
“Yeah, she's on her way.” He looked back at Grigo and smiled reassuringly. “I'm going to take Grigo back to the Hub. It's been a bit of a shock, and he'll be safer there...”
“He's not a suspect?” She looked confused.
Jack sighed. “No. Victim's closest friend. It's a... I'll explain it all later, once we've secured the scene. Come back to the Hub once you've had lunch, leave Tosh here watching the scene with Owen.”
“What?” Owen's head snapped up and he glared at Jack. “Why me?”
“Because there is nothing for you to do back at the Hub, and someone needs to stay here.” He chuckled and turned away. “Comparative advantage, Ianto calls it.”
They came in through the garage to reduce the chance of Grigo being seen, and entered the eerily quiet Hub. Jack stepped back to let Grigo absorb it and smiled at his amazement. “This is...”
“This is Torchwood central,” Jack finished for him. “This is where it all happens.”
“This is where you work?” Grigo turned on the spot and looked at the ceiling. “Where are we?”
“Down by the Bay, under Roald Dahl Plass.” He gestured to the water tower and stepped forwards until he could lean on a railing. “That tower goes all the way up to the surface and emerges outside the Milennium Centre.”
Grigo sighed and dropped his head. “I wish I could see the city, rather than hide in the shadows.”
“I know,” Jack commiserated. “It'll come, but...”
“Not soon enough.” Grigo joined him and looked past him into the Hub. “We spend our lives in the darkness, and the cold. But is the world outside any brighter and warmer?”
“Not in October, certainly,” Ianto's voice drifted over from the kitchen and he emerged with a tray of mugs. “Welcome to the Hub.”
Jack relaxed and turned to introduce them. “Grigo, this is Ianto Jones. Ianto, this is Grigo Atnoia, an old friend of mine.”
“Grigo.” Ianto inclined his head in greeting and offered Jack the tray. “Not the blue one, sir.”
“Yes, I had guessed, thank you.” He picked up his own mug and watched Ianto take the tray over to Grigo, eyes flickering downwards briefly. “Where did you find chiklo?”
“In the kitchen, sir.” Ianto smiled mildly and leaned the tray against the nearest desk to be able to cradle his mug in both hands. “Where else would it have been?”
Jack opened his mouth, frowning, as if about to speak, but just laughed and shook his head before turning back to Grigo. “Ianto is the administrator of Torchwood and my right hand man. The right hand always knows what the left hand's doing.” He raised his eyebrows, feigning thought. “The left hand's not always so sure, though.”
“Well, if you ever read the reports I leave for you, sir,” Ianto teased with a hint of genuine rebuke. He left it hanging and turned back to Grigo. “The captain informs me that you'll be staying with us a while?”
“Derp...” Grigo glanced at Jack and nodded, his reluctance clear. “He thinks it would be best, and I'll take his advice.”
“I find that's often wise.” Ianto smiled at Jack and retrieved the tray. “If you'll allow me to clean up, I have prepared a room for you and I'll take you down there to get settled in shortly. It's not much, but I can provide anything further you require.”
“Thank you, Ianto, but...” he hesitated and glanced at Jack again, his gills fluttering. “I don't want to be a nuisance.”
“Not at all, sir.” Ianto smiled quickly and inclined his head. “I would hate for it to be said that Torchwood's hospitality is lacking. Now, if you'll excuse me.”
He took the tray back to the kitchenette, and Grigo turned back to Jack fully with a thoughtful expression. Quietly, he said, “Jack, he is...”
Jack grinned and nodded. “Quite remarkable? Brilliant? Attractive?” He spoke loudly enough for Ianto to hear, and was rewarded with an embarrassed glare over Ianto's shoulder. “I nearly didn't give him a job. Boy would that have been a mistake.”
“What changed your mind?” Grigo asked
“Myfanwy.”
He frowned. “Muh-what?”
Jack nodded upwards, towards the gantries of the upper Hub. “Myfanwy. Our pteranodon. Ianto found her and I helped him catch her.”
Grigo's expression had morphed to one of perfect shock, and he looked around the gantries with a mixture of wariness and excitement. “You have a pteranodon? I thought they were extinct.”
“They are.” Ianto returned, still carrying his half-drunk coffee. “But we don't mention it to her and she shows no signs of ceasing to exist. She came through the Rift.”
He nodded thoughtfully, still searching the shadows. “The Rift... Lailar, we call her. I think you would call her a god. It is she who takes things... and people.”
Ianto smiled at him when he ducked his head. “I'd like to hear some more of your stories and customs, if you have time whilst you're with us.”
“Of course.” He returned the smile, growing ever more confident in Ianto's presence. “And if you could tell me some of the stories of this country... I have lived here all my life, but it is hard to meet people when one looks like a fish.”
“I'm sure,” Ianto demurred. He finished his coffee and set his shoulders, turning to Jack again. “Sir, the report you asked for is on your desk, along with a GPS device tracking our guest's mobile. I haven't yet been able to secure all the details of his time with us, but I would like to go over them with you before I do so.”
“Yes, Ianto,” Jack sing-songed, failing to hide his amusement in his coffee. “I'll go and get started on those while you get Grigo settled, shall I?”
Ianto rolled his eyes and set his mug down on the corner of a desk. “Grigo, may I give you the tour whilst Jack does his homework?”
They left Jack laughing and heading for his office, and descended through the Hub into the tunnels that extended beyond and below the main workspace. Ianto showed him the first room of the archives, with its rows of metal shelves and drawers extending into the darkness, and his own office close to them. It was in the sitting room of one of a group of suites, with panelled walls that were incongruous with the whitewashed walls of the corridor, a threadbare carpet and a collection of tables forming a right angle in the far corner from the door with a computer at one end. He smiled into the room absently. “It's not much, but I don't live here like they used to. Don't even use the bedroom. Your rooms are next door.”
Grigo pulled back to let him out of the room and looked behind them at the now-closed door. “You work down here on your own?”
“At least one day a week, yes.” He confirmed with fake joviality. “Coffee requests and the Rift permitting, of course.” He opened the next door down the corridor and stepped into the room. “Your rooms.”
“This is...” He looked around, bewildered, and laughed sharply. “Ianto Jones, you are a remarkable man.”
The room was decorated identically to Ianto's office next door, but rather than the bare archiving desks and lone computer the room was set up as a Victorian sitting room with two armchairs and a low coffee table, a desk and matching chair set between a pair of bookcases against the side wall, and photographs of Cardiff Bay against the wall in front of the armchairs. One of the pair of doors led to a Spartan but clean bathroom, and the other led to a cosy bedroom.
Grigo pulled back from the bedroom door and gestured impotently. “Ianto... thank you. I... how did you manage this?”
“I've had it prepared for some time,” he confessed sheepishly. “You're the first to suffer it, though.”
He sighed and looked around the room once more. “Jack would have been a fool indeed to pass you by, Ianto Jones. I...” He shook his head, lost for words, and laughed. “I will be more than fine here. And I think you must go keep our beloved captain out of trouble?”
“I suspect you're probably right.” Ianto ran a hand through his hair and smiled at the floor for a second, then considered Grigo again. “You can find your way back to the Hub?”
“I'll be fine, yes.”
“Alright.” He nodded once more and backed out of the doorway. “I'll be with Jack if you need anything.”
Next chapter
