sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-18 10:15 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-18 10:15 am
Promotion (Torchwood; PG)
Title: Promotion
Rating: PG
Characters: Ianto-centric. Shut up. I/J if you squint hard.
Spoilers: Through 2.04, Meat. Really it's a Missing Scene kind of a deal. Only not precisely.
Summary: Being useful is more important than being afraid.
Warnings: None.
Originally posted 2.12.08; rewritten for canon compliance 10.21.08.
Now available at AO3.
Ianto knew it wasn't good when Jack called him into his office.
Mainly because it was at the end of the debriefing on the Space Whale, as they'd taken to calling it (Ianto had suggested Dark Shark -- brought here by Rift Drift, of course -- to no avail). Jack got a message on his computer right before the end of the meeting and then he said everyone could go back to work except Ianto, I want to talk to you and that was rarely good. One, he would not have said in front of the others if it were anything other than a dressing-down; two, he didn't say it in a good tone of voice. Even Owen, who could be relied upon to snigger and roll his eyes, gave Ianto a pitying look.
And, yes, okay, he'd gotten caught and he hadn't got to the gun in time to keep Rhys from being shot, but after all he was the tea-boy, it was only to be expected when you brought your butler along on dangerous super spy missions.
He followed Jack down to his office and sat when Jack gestured at the chair. Jack sat across from him and clasped his hands on his desk, bowing his head. Ianto waited patiently.
"I've had the medical reports in about the butchers in that little warehouse," Jack said. "The retcon worked."
"That's good," Ianto said.
"They're a little banged up."
"We were fighting for our lives," Ianto pointed out.
"One of them has a broken wrist and three dislocated fingers," Jack said.
Ianto considered this. "I hit one with the door."
He was expecting Jack to react more to that, but Jack just looked at him from under his fringe, head still tilted down. "Concussion and bruising on the face," he said, tapping a few keys on the computer. "It was the other one you hit with the door."
"Oh."
"You handled the boys in the office?"
"Yes..."
Jack tilted his head up slightly. "Broken wrist, three dislocated fingers, two bruised ribs, and a strange mark on his forehead."
Ianto wasn't sure where this was going at all. He hadn't hurt anyone as badly as others had been hurt in the past by Torchwood. To the best of his knowledge, unless you counted deaths and severe unnecessary beatings (Owen), nobody else had ever been called on the carpet before. And those two in the warehouse certainly deserved more than what they'd got.
"Did you break his wrist?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, may have done," Ianto admitted.
"Why?"
"He had a gun in his hand. So I kicked him."
"In the wrist? Did you take kung-fu in school?"
"Yes, but we called it gwnyll-fw," Ianto replied. Jack just looked at him. O-kay, not the time or place for Welsh jokes. "He was already on the floor."
"And you stun-gunned him in the forehead?"
"Yes," he said, defiantly. He wasn't sorry. He wasn't.
Jack sat back in his chair. He studied Ianto for a minute.
"The Rift is still increasing in activity," he said. "Slowly, but noticeably. Torchwood's going to have to expand soon too. New agents, eventually."
"That's good news," Ianto said, utterly bewildered now. "With fewer field demands I can support more staff without issue."
"I was thinking more along the lines of some new support, as well," Jack said.
Jesus Christ, was he being sacked?
"It's been a while since your last promotion -- "
"No, sir," Ianto protested. "I got a pay rise when I came here, and you gave me better security clearance two months ago -- "
" -- which is why I want to consider you for field agent permanently," Jack continued implacably. "I think we've been underestimating you. Gwen agrees with me."
Ianto blinked.
"You did great today. You took care of loose ends. We can use that kind of cleanup support in the field as well as in the office. Are you interested?"
"You know what I did for Torchwood One," Ianto heard himself say. Jack looked annoyed.
"You survived Canary Wharf, which shows -- "
"You've read my file."
"Of course -- "
"I was a researcher," Ianto said. "A very good researcher. Assistant to the senior head, in fact."
"But -- "
"I filed things for a living," Ianto continued, horrified at himself but unable to stop. "I knew what we were on about but all I did was the research and the filing and then after Canary Wharf I had to stay on. I had to because I needed -- I needed the resources for Lisa, d'you see? I said I'd take any job and I did and I'm grateful for that -- I do the budgeting and purchasing and most of the archival, I don't mind the cleaning. And I could have left when -- I could have left but I didn't, because I haven't anywhere else and I'm good at my job. I like it. Out there -- I can't make things clean, not like I can here. I can set Torchwood to rights when it goes off balance, I can't set the world to rights. I don't want to try. It scares me -- "
"Ianto! Ianto, calm down," Jack said, spreading his hands.
"When I was in the warehouse I was terrified every single second and it doesn't matter that I did a good job because I hated it. The others love it, they do, and that's fine but I don't love it and -- " Ianto looked down at his hands. "And now I'm shaking. I'm sorry. It's the adrenaline withdrawal now that it's over, I imagine."
Jack got up and came around the desk and was suddenly human again, taking Ianto's hands between his, stopping the trembling. Ianto's cheeks flushed hot.
"I didn't realise," Jack said. He touched Ianto's face. "The thing is...you're getting good at putting the world to rights."
"But I like being here," Ianto said. "I'll go if you order me. But sooner or later it'll get someone killed."
"You weren't just a researcher in London. You were a specialist, a logistician. I read all of your file," Jack said. "Don't play yourself down. We can use you, Ianto. And I know that the most important thing to you is to be useful. Can you live with yourself if you're not as useful as you can possibly be?"
"Can you live with yourself if my mistake causes someone's death?" Ianto asked.
"I live with the deaths I've caused. I can carry yours too," Jack said.
"I didn't mean -- "
"You didn't have to. This is me, telling you. I'll carry your deaths." Jack pressed a thumb over his mouth to shut him up. "I will carry your mistakes. The fear won't be as bad next time, and the time after that, and the time after that. And I will always, always be here afterwards."
Ianto cut his eyes away.
"You can still be in charge of general operations. We'll get you an assistant. A really pretty one," Jack said. Ianto couldn't help but snort. "Maybe we'll make Rhys do it."
Ianto opened his mouth in horrified denial, and Jack hooked his thumb on his teeth.
"That was a joke," he said. He removed his hand slowly. Ianto ducked his head.
"You'll always be there?" he asked.
"I can't die, Ianto."
"But you can leave. And last time you left I didn't have the choice. Or the assistant," he added, wondering if he'd pushed Jack too far. Jack stood, pulling Ianto up with him.
"But I won't," he said. "Trust me."
Ianto nodded.
"So...?"
"I'll need to find and train my replacement. That's six weeks minimum. And if you're making any other new hires you know I'll be the one who has to review the CVs and arrange the interviews." Ianto felt better with a list of things to do. "And I'm still in charge of time-drift orientation. I like that bit."
Jack grinned like the sun coming out and Ianto was terrified all over again, but after all -- Jack was there.
"I'll start the paperwork," he said.
***
They arrived back from the mission sweaty, filthy, and too tired to be as jubilant as they should at saving the world without killing anyone who didn't richly deserve it. Gwen had become quite the crack shot, though if Tosh and Jack hadn't got the alien computer system up and running while Owen held the outer wall and Ianto deactivated the robots inside she never would have been able to pick off only the alien's third arm, the one holding the detonator. And if Ianto hadn't gone over the wall like bloody James Bond he would not now be in the centre of the knot of Torchwood agents, all of them fussing excitedly while Owen dragged him down to medical to have a look at his arm in its temporary splint.
"Gabriel!" Jack shouted. "Status report!"
"Police units have been diverted, cover story's in place," a voice called. "Coffee in thirty seconds. Dirty clothes in the hampers, please, not on the floor. That means you, Dr. Harper."
"Can you do something about his smart mouth?" Owen asked Ianto, bending over his arm.
"Torchwood tea-boy prerogative," Ianto replied, sucking in a breath against the pain. "It hurts. Is it broken?"
"Sprain. Elevate and ice." Owen tossed him a wet-wipe to clean the mud from his face with and snapped the activation capsule in an ice pack, handing it to him. "Put that on your wrist. Nice work."
"No slouch yourself." Ianto knew that if he hadn't been there Owen wouldn't be breathing. He wasn't sure Owen realised this, though, and perhaps just as well.
Gabriel descended the stairs with a tray; there were two mugs of coffee on it and a small plate of chocolate biscuits. Owen took his mug and shoved two biscuits in his pocket absently, already moving on to more interesting topics than Ianto's sprained wrist.
Ianto took a biscuit, setting it on the sterile hospital table next to him, and lifted the cup of coffee off the tray with his good hand. Gabriel watched him carefully as he sipped. It wasn't quite perfect yet, but nobody else would notice. And it was hot coffee that he hadn't had to make himself.
"Thank you, Gabriel," he said. "Have you got those weather printouts?"
"They're on your desk, sir, along with the hospital reports for collating."
"Job well done."
The young man flushed with pleasure. "I do my best, sir."
Jack leaned over the railing, looking down on them. "No harassing the tea-boy, Ianto."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Jack."
They locked eyes as Ianto sipped his drink. Jack tilted his head; Ianto nodded slightly.
Are you all right?
I am.
It meant that the fear, still present, didn't win this time. And that Jack had yet to have to carry any of Ianto's sins on his soul. Ianto fought hard, every day, to keep Jack from bearing that burden -- which might have been what Jack intended all along.
"Do you need anything else, Mr. Jones?" Gabriel asked, pulling him gently back to reality. Ianto wondered if he'd ever been as young as Gabriel. Didn't feel like it.
"No," Ianto said. "I'm fine."
END
Rating: PG
Characters: Ianto-centric. Shut up. I/J if you squint hard.
Spoilers: Through 2.04, Meat. Really it's a Missing Scene kind of a deal. Only not precisely.
Summary: Being useful is more important than being afraid.
Warnings: None.
Originally posted 2.12.08; rewritten for canon compliance 10.21.08.
Now available at AO3.
Ianto knew it wasn't good when Jack called him into his office.
Mainly because it was at the end of the debriefing on the Space Whale, as they'd taken to calling it (Ianto had suggested Dark Shark -- brought here by Rift Drift, of course -- to no avail). Jack got a message on his computer right before the end of the meeting and then he said everyone could go back to work except Ianto, I want to talk to you and that was rarely good. One, he would not have said in front of the others if it were anything other than a dressing-down; two, he didn't say it in a good tone of voice. Even Owen, who could be relied upon to snigger and roll his eyes, gave Ianto a pitying look.
And, yes, okay, he'd gotten caught and he hadn't got to the gun in time to keep Rhys from being shot, but after all he was the tea-boy, it was only to be expected when you brought your butler along on dangerous super spy missions.
He followed Jack down to his office and sat when Jack gestured at the chair. Jack sat across from him and clasped his hands on his desk, bowing his head. Ianto waited patiently.
"I've had the medical reports in about the butchers in that little warehouse," Jack said. "The retcon worked."
"That's good," Ianto said.
"They're a little banged up."
"We were fighting for our lives," Ianto pointed out.
"One of them has a broken wrist and three dislocated fingers," Jack said.
Ianto considered this. "I hit one with the door."
He was expecting Jack to react more to that, but Jack just looked at him from under his fringe, head still tilted down. "Concussion and bruising on the face," he said, tapping a few keys on the computer. "It was the other one you hit with the door."
"Oh."
"You handled the boys in the office?"
"Yes..."
Jack tilted his head up slightly. "Broken wrist, three dislocated fingers, two bruised ribs, and a strange mark on his forehead."
Ianto wasn't sure where this was going at all. He hadn't hurt anyone as badly as others had been hurt in the past by Torchwood. To the best of his knowledge, unless you counted deaths and severe unnecessary beatings (Owen), nobody else had ever been called on the carpet before. And those two in the warehouse certainly deserved more than what they'd got.
"Did you break his wrist?" Jack asked.
"Yeah, may have done," Ianto admitted.
"Why?"
"He had a gun in his hand. So I kicked him."
"In the wrist? Did you take kung-fu in school?"
"Yes, but we called it gwnyll-fw," Ianto replied. Jack just looked at him. O-kay, not the time or place for Welsh jokes. "He was already on the floor."
"And you stun-gunned him in the forehead?"
"Yes," he said, defiantly. He wasn't sorry. He wasn't.
Jack sat back in his chair. He studied Ianto for a minute.
"The Rift is still increasing in activity," he said. "Slowly, but noticeably. Torchwood's going to have to expand soon too. New agents, eventually."
"That's good news," Ianto said, utterly bewildered now. "With fewer field demands I can support more staff without issue."
"I was thinking more along the lines of some new support, as well," Jack said.
Jesus Christ, was he being sacked?
"It's been a while since your last promotion -- "
"No, sir," Ianto protested. "I got a pay rise when I came here, and you gave me better security clearance two months ago -- "
" -- which is why I want to consider you for field agent permanently," Jack continued implacably. "I think we've been underestimating you. Gwen agrees with me."
Ianto blinked.
"You did great today. You took care of loose ends. We can use that kind of cleanup support in the field as well as in the office. Are you interested?"
"You know what I did for Torchwood One," Ianto heard himself say. Jack looked annoyed.
"You survived Canary Wharf, which shows -- "
"You've read my file."
"Of course -- "
"I was a researcher," Ianto said. "A very good researcher. Assistant to the senior head, in fact."
"But -- "
"I filed things for a living," Ianto continued, horrified at himself but unable to stop. "I knew what we were on about but all I did was the research and the filing and then after Canary Wharf I had to stay on. I had to because I needed -- I needed the resources for Lisa, d'you see? I said I'd take any job and I did and I'm grateful for that -- I do the budgeting and purchasing and most of the archival, I don't mind the cleaning. And I could have left when -- I could have left but I didn't, because I haven't anywhere else and I'm good at my job. I like it. Out there -- I can't make things clean, not like I can here. I can set Torchwood to rights when it goes off balance, I can't set the world to rights. I don't want to try. It scares me -- "
"Ianto! Ianto, calm down," Jack said, spreading his hands.
"When I was in the warehouse I was terrified every single second and it doesn't matter that I did a good job because I hated it. The others love it, they do, and that's fine but I don't love it and -- " Ianto looked down at his hands. "And now I'm shaking. I'm sorry. It's the adrenaline withdrawal now that it's over, I imagine."
Jack got up and came around the desk and was suddenly human again, taking Ianto's hands between his, stopping the trembling. Ianto's cheeks flushed hot.
"I didn't realise," Jack said. He touched Ianto's face. "The thing is...you're getting good at putting the world to rights."
"But I like being here," Ianto said. "I'll go if you order me. But sooner or later it'll get someone killed."
"You weren't just a researcher in London. You were a specialist, a logistician. I read all of your file," Jack said. "Don't play yourself down. We can use you, Ianto. And I know that the most important thing to you is to be useful. Can you live with yourself if you're not as useful as you can possibly be?"
"Can you live with yourself if my mistake causes someone's death?" Ianto asked.
"I live with the deaths I've caused. I can carry yours too," Jack said.
"I didn't mean -- "
"You didn't have to. This is me, telling you. I'll carry your deaths." Jack pressed a thumb over his mouth to shut him up. "I will carry your mistakes. The fear won't be as bad next time, and the time after that, and the time after that. And I will always, always be here afterwards."
Ianto cut his eyes away.
"You can still be in charge of general operations. We'll get you an assistant. A really pretty one," Jack said. Ianto couldn't help but snort. "Maybe we'll make Rhys do it."
Ianto opened his mouth in horrified denial, and Jack hooked his thumb on his teeth.
"That was a joke," he said. He removed his hand slowly. Ianto ducked his head.
"You'll always be there?" he asked.
"I can't die, Ianto."
"But you can leave. And last time you left I didn't have the choice. Or the assistant," he added, wondering if he'd pushed Jack too far. Jack stood, pulling Ianto up with him.
"But I won't," he said. "Trust me."
Ianto nodded.
"So...?"
"I'll need to find and train my replacement. That's six weeks minimum. And if you're making any other new hires you know I'll be the one who has to review the CVs and arrange the interviews." Ianto felt better with a list of things to do. "And I'm still in charge of time-drift orientation. I like that bit."
Jack grinned like the sun coming out and Ianto was terrified all over again, but after all -- Jack was there.
"I'll start the paperwork," he said.
***
They arrived back from the mission sweaty, filthy, and too tired to be as jubilant as they should at saving the world without killing anyone who didn't richly deserve it. Gwen had become quite the crack shot, though if Tosh and Jack hadn't got the alien computer system up and running while Owen held the outer wall and Ianto deactivated the robots inside she never would have been able to pick off only the alien's third arm, the one holding the detonator. And if Ianto hadn't gone over the wall like bloody James Bond he would not now be in the centre of the knot of Torchwood agents, all of them fussing excitedly while Owen dragged him down to medical to have a look at his arm in its temporary splint.
"Gabriel!" Jack shouted. "Status report!"
"Police units have been diverted, cover story's in place," a voice called. "Coffee in thirty seconds. Dirty clothes in the hampers, please, not on the floor. That means you, Dr. Harper."
"Can you do something about his smart mouth?" Owen asked Ianto, bending over his arm.
"Torchwood tea-boy prerogative," Ianto replied, sucking in a breath against the pain. "It hurts. Is it broken?"
"Sprain. Elevate and ice." Owen tossed him a wet-wipe to clean the mud from his face with and snapped the activation capsule in an ice pack, handing it to him. "Put that on your wrist. Nice work."
"No slouch yourself." Ianto knew that if he hadn't been there Owen wouldn't be breathing. He wasn't sure Owen realised this, though, and perhaps just as well.
Gabriel descended the stairs with a tray; there were two mugs of coffee on it and a small plate of chocolate biscuits. Owen took his mug and shoved two biscuits in his pocket absently, already moving on to more interesting topics than Ianto's sprained wrist.
Ianto took a biscuit, setting it on the sterile hospital table next to him, and lifted the cup of coffee off the tray with his good hand. Gabriel watched him carefully as he sipped. It wasn't quite perfect yet, but nobody else would notice. And it was hot coffee that he hadn't had to make himself.
"Thank you, Gabriel," he said. "Have you got those weather printouts?"
"They're on your desk, sir, along with the hospital reports for collating."
"Job well done."
The young man flushed with pleasure. "I do my best, sir."
Jack leaned over the railing, looking down on them. "No harassing the tea-boy, Ianto."
"Wouldn't dream of it, Jack."
They locked eyes as Ianto sipped his drink. Jack tilted his head; Ianto nodded slightly.
Are you all right?
I am.
It meant that the fear, still present, didn't win this time. And that Jack had yet to have to carry any of Ianto's sins on his soul. Ianto fought hard, every day, to keep Jack from bearing that burden -- which might have been what Jack intended all along.
"Do you need anything else, Mr. Jones?" Gabriel asked, pulling him gently back to reality. Ianto wondered if he'd ever been as young as Gabriel. Didn't feel like it.
"No," Ianto said. "I'm fine."
END
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Page 1 of 2