sam_storyteller (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-18 10:40 am
sam_storyteller) wrote2005-07-18 10:40 am
Two Torchwood Fics: Hard Bargain (G) and Zero Sum (PG-13)
Title: Hard Bargain
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: G. (wow, I know)
Characters: Pre-pilot Team (Jack, Suzie, Owen, Tosh, Ianto)
Summary: Pterodactyl-hunting in the Welsh countryside nets Jack Harkness an unexpected ally.
Warnings: None.
Originally Posted 3.02.08
Also available at AO3.
***
"There!" Jack shouted. "Southeast quadrant!"
"Je-sus Christ," Owen said, staring up at it.
"Suzie, are you in range?"
Suzie, twenty feet out ahead of them, raised her weapon and fired. It was a miss; the giant clawed creature perched in the tree screamed and lifted aloft.
Jack broke into a run, vaulting a low wooden fence without thinking about it, though he noted with something approaching glee the no trespassing, no hunting sign hanging there. Beyond the fence was a stand of trees, easy to twist your ankle or trip and fall, but he remembered chasing, running, and it felt alive to be out on a dark night hunting something outside the city, somewhere there were no potholes or alleys.
He came out of the trees into a largish flat meadow, ringed on three sides with more trees and blocked on the eastern edge by a dilapidated barn. Suzie caught up to him first, then Tosh and Owen; Tosh already had her ordinance survey map out and was examining it by torchlight, clenched in her teeth.
"It went thattaway," Suzie deadpanned. Jack chuckled.
"It must have its...roost?" Tosh asked, taking the torch from her mouth. "Or...eyrie? Nest? around here somewhere. It doesn't seem to be nocturnal, so it's probably on its way home."
"All right. We'll split up. Suzie go southeast, I'll go southwest. Owen, we're going to need a bigger field incinerator."
"I'll go back to the SUV," Owen volunteered. "See if any of the locals have something we could use."
"Tosh, keep your eye on the skies. Any idea what it was?"
"Well, it's either a pterodactyl or an alien doing a very good impersonation," she replied with a smile.
"An alien with a taste for sheep," Owen added.
"They wouldn't be the first," Jack said. Owen sighed.
"Are you sure handguns are going to do any good?" Suzie asked. "It looked thick-skinned -- "
"Stop where you are."
All of them looked up quickly, Jack moving a bare few inches to block Suzie, closest to him.
"Step away from each other. Hands in the air. I know you have guns; let's see them."
There was a figure moving through the grass, edging really; it was impossible to see more, but the barrel of a rifle was quite clear in the moonlight.
"I've said I'll have no hunting on this land. Weapons! On the ground!"
"We're not hunters," Jack said, turning his gun slightly so that the light caught its upraised barrel, pointing to the sky. "We're with Torchwood. Government special ops. You have a dangerous creature on your land."
The man halted. There was a tense second; then they saw his head move in the shadows, a tilt of annoyance.
"Torchwood," he said. He did not put the gun down. "That's all I bloody need."
"Aren't we supposed to be secret?" Owen asked Tosh, conversationally.
"You have a dangerous animal nearby," Jack tried. "We're here to -- "
"Kill it, I'm perfectly aware. Ah -- " the man said, as Owen reached into his coat. "Torchwood doesn't mean I won't kill all four of you."
"You don't think someone might come looking?" Jack asked.
"What," said a voice dripping with scorn, "like they did for Torchwood Four?"
"Who are you?" Suzie asked, but the man had stepped forward again, a hatch of moonlight falling on his face through the trees. Jack put on his best love to see you again beam.
"I'd recognise those dulcet Welsh vowels anywhere," he said. "Ianto Jones, isn't it? Good coffee. Great ass," he added, to Suzie. "You were attached to London."
"London burned," the man said. "You're on my property, Captain Harkness. I want you off it."
"We can't leave without the animal."
"She's not harming anyone." There was a wry echo to his next words. "Well. Except a few sheep."
"You know she's here?" Owen asked.
"What is she?" Tosh inquired.
"How do you know it's a she?" Suzie said.
Ianto Jones sighed, replaced the safety on his rifle, and slung it over his back in a quick, fluid move. Jack was impressed; the last time he'd seen the young man he'd been in a suit and tie, serving coffee to Yvonne Hartman and ignoring Jack's advances pointedly.
"You've scared her off; she'll be gone for hours now. You'd better come along," he said, and turned and walked away. They all looked to Jack, who shrugged, smiled, and set out to catch up with Jones.
***
There was a crackling fire, through the second line of trees, built in a stone-lined pit with a damp camp-cot next to it for sitting. Jones unshouldered the rifle, set it down, took a pack off his back and opened it. Jack gestured for Suzie and Tosh to take the bed; Owen looked cranky.
"Ianto Jones, this is Torchwood Three -- Suzie Costello, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato. This is Ianto Jones, man of my dreams," he added to the others. Jones looked unimpressed and offered him a tall silver cylinder.
"You'll have to share the thermos; I wasn't expecting company," he said. He took a bag of marshmallows out of the pack next, offering them to Suzie.
"But you brought...marshmallows," Owen observed, as Suzie opened them.
"Must have some excuse for a fire in the middle of nowhere," Jones replied. "And the bats like them."
To demonstrate, he took one out of the bag and threw it high in the air. There was a leathery noise, and a small dark body spiraled around the marshmallow in its descent, nearly crashing into the ground as the marshmallow landed.
Jack took a sip of the coffee in the thermos, then a healthy swig, wiping the lip and passing it to Tosh.
"You're aware of the animal's presence," he said.
"Yes," Jones answered.
"You didn't see fit to contact Torchwood?"
"Isn't your concern. My land, my problem."
"We could have helped."
"You could have done what you are doing now, Captain Harkness, and tried to kill her."
"How do you know it's a her?" Suzie repeated.
"Conjecture and a few biology books." Jones reached into his bag again and pulled out a notebook so new the card binding was still stiff in the corners. He passed it to Jack, who opened it and raised his eyebrows. Inside was page on page of neat writing, half-competent sketchwork, and a few paperclipped newspaper articles. He flicked through it.
"You've been keeping records," he said, examining a glossy, obviously children's-book illustration taped to the third page. There was another torn-out book page on the next, from a much more advanced paleontology text.
"Well, one does," Jones replied. "First sighting was a week ago yesterday."
"That correlates with the rift activity we picked up," Tosh said. "Eight days ago. She came through over the bay and flew west."
"You don't seem too concerned about the sheep," Jack said, holding up a sketch of a pterodactyl with a woolly leg hanging out of its mouth.
"They aren't my sheep. Anyway, there are millions of sheep in Great Britain. There's only one pterodactyl."
"Estimated size and weight..." Jack continued to page through. "Feeding habits, potential roosting sites. What's this?"
"Training log," Jones replied, accepting the thermos that had made its way around the circle. He took a sip.
"You've been training. The pterodactyl," Owen said skeptically.
"She's reasonably bright. I've managed to alter her hunting zone significantly. She comes to the barn to feed now, or at least she has the last three nights." Jones gave him a dry smile.
"What were you planning on doing with her?" Jack asked. He handed the notebook to Owen, who studied it, Tosh leaning over one shoulder.
Jones gave him a blank look. "Doing?"
"You've trained her, you feed her. Were you going to sell her somewhere? Keep her as a pet?"
"Protect her," Jones said, and there was an odd, angry look in his eyes. "From you, as it turns out."
"She doesn't belong in this time," Suzie said.
"Ms. Sato?" Jones said suddenly. Tosh looked up. "Has there been any temporal instability in the area?"
Tosh studied a small, handheld screen. "Not that I can see."
"No brachiosaurii stomping about?"
"Point made, Mr. Jones," Jack said firmly. "She's still a threat. She's a wild animal. What if she goes after a child next?"
"She won't. That's why I'm training her. You can't shoot her just because she doesn't belong."
There was a screaming cry overhead, and all five of them looked up suddenly. Jones smiled.
"She's getting braver. Three days ago she wouldn't have come near this place if there were strangers about. Come on."
He kicked dirt over the fire and took off swiftly for the barn, half-jogging down a worn path through the trees. When they came out on the other side, the pterodactyl was resting on the ground, wings spread, hissing.
"Wants her supper," Jones said, in an oddly affectionate tone. He whistled, high and shrill, and the pterdoactyl answered with a short shriek. The others watched as he reached into another compartment of his backpack and took out a plastic bag with three huge steaks in it.
"Light meals on alternate days," Owen read from the notebook.
"I've theorised," Jones said, edging closer and opening the bag, "that they would hunt, then leave the carcass and come back the next day. She doesn't seem to need much protein on a daily basis."
He took out one of the steaks, swung underhanded, and threw the slab of meat across to her. She ducked her head and caught it, sliding it down her throat.
Jack was faintly impressed. Hand-feeding a pterodactyl was a new one on him.
"Can I try?" Suzie asked. Jones looked her up and down. "I'm good with animals."
He tossed her the bag. The pterodactyl made a low hooting noise that startled Tosh away from her computer screen.
"Have you tried getting close?" Suzie asked, holding out the steak but not throwing it.
"Once or twice, but...pterodactyl," Jones answered. "Claws like anything."
Suzie was easing forward, watched by one bright black dinosaur eye and four sets of human ones. She got within ten feet of the pterodactyl before it reared up, fanning the dust with its wings. The others drew back; only Suzie stayed where she was.
Eventually the flapping stopped, and the animal inched its head forward, opening its mouth.
"Fine, brat," Suzie said, and tossed the meat straight in. Jones took the notebook out of Owen's hands without speaking and uncapped a pen with his teeth, scratching more notes on the first blank page. Jack looked him up and down; he was thoroughly distracted with the business of records-keeping.
Before any of them could react, Jack pulled a stun-gun from his coat pocket. "Suzie!"
She turned and he threw it in a perfect arc; Suzie caught it and dove around the suddenly-agitated head, slamming the gun into its belly. She skittered out of the way as the animal screamed, then collapsed to the ground with an earth-shaking thud.
Jack glanced at Jones, who was staring, open mouthed, at the scene.
"Mr. Jones, we'll need a flat-bed and a tarp. How'd you like to take a trip to Cardiff?"
***
The farmhouse a quarter-mile from the barn was elderly but in good repair; Jones let them in through the kitchen and gestured at a wide table in the centre of the room, then went to the oddly out-of-place-looking telephone on the wall.
"William," he said, when someone on the other end answered. "It's Jones at Goludog-Tir. Aye. Aye yes, I know. Sorry to ring so late. You remember that beast that's been stealin' the sheep?"
Jack watched him more than the others as they spoke in low, excited tones. He'd slipped into a different dialect; the accent was still pure Welsh, but the words came out differently.
A quiet, false laugh.
"No sir. Mind if I steal your old tractor-hauler? Aye, tonight. Oh, Tuesday probably. Good good. I'll send someone. Keys still in the visor? Tell your missus, wouldn't want to be shot gettin' it out. Aye. G'bye."
He hung up the telephone. "Two miles down the road there's a barn with a flat-bed. Keys are in the visor, barn's unlocked."
"I'll go," Tosh said, obviously discomfited by the tidy, empty farmhouse.
"I'll come with, someone's got to drive the SUV back," Owen volunteered.
"West until you see the red signpost, north after that on the right," Jones said, walking to the gas stove nearby and putting a kettle on.
"D'you own this place?" Suzie said, looking around her. "It looks practically medieval."
"It is," Jones answered. "Tea, Ms. Costello?"
"Please."
"Captain Harkness?"
"No thanks. Your family still live here?" Jack asked.
"They're dead. I hold the deed, lease the land for sheep."
"Must be a bit boring, after London," Suzie said. "What do you do all day?"
"Cook. Walk. Read. Train pterodactyls," Jones replied, leaning against the counter next to the stove.
"Convalesce?" Jack asked.
Jones glanced down at his boots, the toes and the hems of his jeans caked in mud. "I wasn't injured. But -- no more work in London, and you lot weren't exactly advertising in the Echo."
"What did you do at London?" Jack asked. "Aside from look -- "
"I'd rather not talk about London," Jones interrupted quietly, but Suzie was already at work on her hand-held.
"Rotation: general support, logistics, archival," she said. Jack tilted his head; she nodded. "Floater. He went where he was needed."
"Good," Jack said. "You're needed in Cardiff. Pack a bag."
"As what?" Jones asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pterodactyl logistician?" Suzie suggested.
"Eye-candy," Jack added.
"Don't listen to him. You can be my attache, I need help with the archives."
The young man looked indecisive; Jack expected a dry and cutting denial at any moment, but instead he looked east out the window, in the direction of the barn and the securely-netted unconscious pterodactyl.
"All right," he said. "But we don't kill Myfanwy."
"You named it," Suzie said. "That's...oddly adorable."
"Only sensible," Jones answered. "She can be trained to hunt over the bay. And you'll cover moving expenses."
"Done," Jack said. "But only if you show up to work every day in those jeans."
"I wear suits to work, Captain."
"He drives a hard bargain," Suzie said.
"I'll try and suffer. Welcome to Torchwood Three, Ianto Jones."
Jones smiled, and that same odd anger was behind his eyes. "Thank you, sir."
END
Title: Zero-Sum
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jack/Ianto implied
Summary: "I don't think that anyone has ever questioned my manners in bed before. Restaurants, cars, the course of my duties, but never in bed." "I'm not surprised. I doubt many were around long enough afterwards."
Notes: This arose from a discussion![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spiderine and I had here.
Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
"Ianto. A word please."
The voice came out over the speakers; Ianto sighed and set down the file he'd been working on. As if on cue, all three heads raised; Gwen looking smug, Tosh looking envious, Owen looking disdainful.
"In a moment," he called back to the air. "Gwen, do you have the expenses?" Gwen held up the folder and grinned at him as Ianto took it. "Might as well carry them up." He raised his voice. "Coffee, sir?"
"No, thank you," the voice came again.
"Taking dictation?" Owen asked, as Ianto passed him.
"Taking your pulse?" Ianto retorted. Owen's taunting look faded.
Jack's office was messy again; Jack liked a certain amount of chaos, and Ianto had seen the disturbed, confused look that passed over the Captain's face on his return from wherever-he'd-been, when he found his office clean and waiting. What else had they had to do? Hold down the Rift, ride out the missions, and -- for Ianto -- clean the office, keeping it ready. Jack had taken delight in Messing it again.
"Expenses from Gwen," Ianto said, laying them on the corner of his desk. Jack, boots propped up, head tilted back, didn't bother looking at him.
"Owen still trying to charge his new clothes to Torchwood's account?"
"Well, I suppose death does require a new wardrobe."
"Dead of Torchwood, still kicking around is not justification," Jack said. Ianto contemplated Jack's throat, which was inappropriate but fun to do. "Sit down."
Ianto sat.
"Do you talk to Gwen?" Jack asked.
"Most days. Difficult not to."
"About us."
"Ah," Ianto said. "This would be about her bedside manner remark a few weeks ago."
"In one."
"I wasn't aware I shouldn't." Ianto studied the treads on Jack's boots. They were wearing down; he'd need a new pair soon. "After all, you shoved your tongue down my throat and then disappeared. People are bound to ask questions."
"I don't think," Jack said, eyes still firmly on the ceiling, "that anyone has ever questioned my manners in bed before. Restaurants, cars, the course of my duties, but never in bed."
"I'm not surprised. I doubt many were around long enough afterwards."
Jack's head snapped down at that. Ianto smiled, small and self-satisfied, in the face of Jack's steel-eyed stare.
"I pride myself on being an exception," he added quietly. Jack lifted his feet off the desk and planted them on the floor, leaning forward.
"Which is why," Jack said, "I wonder why you'd tell Gwen."
"I didn't," Ianto said. "Well, not that. I've never cast aspersions, nor had reason to."
"Well, she didn't pick it up first-hand!"
"Shocking in itself."
The stare was back.
"Surely you're aware you could snap your fingers and have her," Ianto said. "Snap twice and she'd probably talk Rhys round into coming along."
Jack's eyes unfocused slightly. Ianto could almost see the visions in his head. In the small things, Jack was often easily distracted.
"That's not the point," Jack replied, shaking his head slightly. "I don't want to snap my fingers at Gwen."
"You don't have to snap your fingers for me. So why fuss?"
"If you weren't happy -- "
"That's not at issue."
"It is to me. I thought we were done lying to each other."
Ianto shook his head. "I think that's a long way off, Jack. Which we're both aware is not even your real name."
Jack's mouth shut, pressed into a line, opened again. "And I thought I'd be the one who'd changed the most."
"When you came back? It's likely you are. Who I was -- well." Ianto touched his tie almost unconsciously, aware that Jack was fascinated by nothing so much as the undoing of a tie. "This is who I am. It's always who I've been. Now you get to see it, that's all. I have no complaints, sir, about your manners or your technique. Bruises, occasionally, but never complaints. Gwen deduced her statements on her own."
"From what you told her?"
Ianto sighed. Jack leaned forward.
"I hadn't anyone else to talk to. I told her what friends tell each other in the course of discussion; she did the same, which was enlightening but not overly interesting. From what I told her, she seemed to believe you were -- less than satisfying. Emotionally. Pardon the patriarchic stereotype, but it was a very...female thing to think."
"Are you?"
"Less than satisfied? No."
"I don't want satisfied, Ianto. I want gloriously well-fucked."
"Excuse me, Jack. I'm British."
Jack laughed a little at that, which was good; the tension had been entirely too thick.
"So what did you tell her that made her think...?"
Ianto shrugged. "I'm well aware that this isn't your world."
Jack's breath hitched; he had only meant in a cultural sense, but the little hitch told him something different, and he filed it quickly away before continuing.
"Presumably, given your attitudes and willingness to chase anything reasonably attractive and standing still for more than three minutes, sex is not an issue in your life. Not as it is here. It isn't..." Ianto pursed his lips. "It isn't the zero-sum equation all but the more adventurous types adhere to, consciously or otherwise."
"Zero-sum?" Jack asked.
"Kiss, foreplay, you come, I come," Ianto said.
"I think that's the filthiest thing I've ever heard you say."
"Well, most of the time I can't actually form words."
"I take it back. That is." Jack leered just a little. "So, Professor of Harkness Sexuality..."
Ianto smiled. "When we began, it was never about me. That was my decision, my initiative. And I came to realise that it never would be, so long as I assumed you believed in the equation."
"Can we leave mathematics out of our sex life?" Jack asked.
"Tell me. Wherever you come from. Was public sex considered taboo?" Ianto asked. He was honestly curious; any scrap of Jack's history was a welcome one.
"Only at formal gatherings," Jack said, grinning.
"What was taboo?"
Jack frowned. "Why?"
"Curiousity. I have a point to make, but why not ask?"
The frown deepend. "Incest. Rape. Intercession in a monogamous relationship. Not so different from now."
"Gwen mentioned twin acrobats."
"I really am going to have to gag her."
"I'm sure she'd enjoy it, if done properly."
Jack rolled his eyes.
"I imagine," Ianto continued, "that sex wasn't discussed, simply because there was no need. Not in any important serious sense, any more than one discusses cooking or clothing. Whereas here and now, it isn't discussed because so many find discussion so distasteful."
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"I am," Ianto said, and saw that this, too, floored Jack. Oh, the things I can show you, Jack, now that the walls are down. Wait. "And making a point."
"So you said."
"If you were to have sex with one of your...contemporaries, you would see to it that they enjoyed the experience."
"As you have proof."
"And how would you know?"
Jack gave him a sardonic look. Ianto refused to blush.
"They would tell you, one presumes. If they weren't satisfied in some way, they would say so."
The look faded.
"Here and now, it's considered bad manners. One should simply somehow know when one's partner is unsatisfied, unstimulated. It's really quite a terrible system, but we manage to keep reproducing, so I suppose it's not completely flawed."
"Are you saying -- "
"Jack."
Jack shut up.
"You take your pleasure, and if your pleasure lies in pleasing another, then certainly they will be. As you said, I have the proof. Vivid proof," Ianto said, and was aware that he was also drifting for a moment, now. "But you don't seem to think you should look for the signs of it -- you assume that your partner, whoever they be, will tell you in no uncertain terms what you've left undone."
"And have I?"
"Left me undone?"
"Left something undone which should have been done."
"Gwen seems to think so. But then Gwen is a very zero-sum woman."
"I'm not interested in whether Gwen thinks I don't satisfy you in bed."
"Do you believe I can know all this, Jack, and not know to speak up?" Ianto asked. "For a while, perhaps, but I am nothing if not observant." He leaned forward. "Do you remember the -- last time, before you left?"
Jack smiled. "Oh. Yes."
"I believe the phrase employed was 'demanding bastard'."
"Yes."
"What about the phrase 'ardent but unimaginative'?" Ianto asked. "As applied to those...previous. Ring any bells?"
He could see Jack casting his mind down through the years -- decades, centuries even.
"A whole symphony," Jack said quietly.
"They were waiting for you."
Jack's eyes were hunted. Perhaps that was too deep a cut.
"Hardly your fault, Jack," Ianto said, leaning close. "Call it a cultural gap. You had no idea you should be looking; they had no idea you weren't. They were waiting to be noticed, and weren't looking close enough themselves. I've done enough of that. We both have."
"So you've bridged the gap, have you?" Jack asked, his voice low and sweet.
"Call me a man ahead of his time," Ianto said, and heard another hitch. He wondered, idly, how much information he might be able to get out of Jack -- later, and in another place.
"How fast do you think I could clear the others out of the Hub?" Jack asked.
"Not now," Ianto said, with a grin that he knew bordered on the feral. "Not for hours yet. Hours you'll have to wait. Hours to mull this over."
He loosened his tie slightly. Jack swallowed.
"Demanding bastard," he muttered.
"Whatever it takes to keep the Captain happy. And, if you'll excuse me, I believe Owen and I are scheduled to insult each other. Keeps his spirits up," Ianto added, standing and nodding slightly. But he didn't move; he waited. Jack looked expectant, then puzzled, then amused.
"Are you waiting for me to dismiss you?" he asked.
"Yes," Ianto said simply. Jack's eyes darkened a shade.
"You're dismissed, Ianto."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Play games with me," Jack called, as Ianto's hand touched the doorknob, "and you won't win."
"Winning only matters in war," Ianto answered. "We play games for the sake of games. Don't worry," he added, just before the door swung behind him. "I'm a native. I'll translate for you when you get lost."
The door closed on Jack's laughter. It was good to hear.
END
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: G. (wow, I know)
Characters: Pre-pilot Team (Jack, Suzie, Owen, Tosh, Ianto)
Summary: Pterodactyl-hunting in the Welsh countryside nets Jack Harkness an unexpected ally.
Warnings: None.
Originally Posted 3.02.08
Also available at AO3.
***
"There!" Jack shouted. "Southeast quadrant!"
"Je-sus Christ," Owen said, staring up at it.
"Suzie, are you in range?"
Suzie, twenty feet out ahead of them, raised her weapon and fired. It was a miss; the giant clawed creature perched in the tree screamed and lifted aloft.
Jack broke into a run, vaulting a low wooden fence without thinking about it, though he noted with something approaching glee the no trespassing, no hunting sign hanging there. Beyond the fence was a stand of trees, easy to twist your ankle or trip and fall, but he remembered chasing, running, and it felt alive to be out on a dark night hunting something outside the city, somewhere there were no potholes or alleys.
He came out of the trees into a largish flat meadow, ringed on three sides with more trees and blocked on the eastern edge by a dilapidated barn. Suzie caught up to him first, then Tosh and Owen; Tosh already had her ordinance survey map out and was examining it by torchlight, clenched in her teeth.
"It went thattaway," Suzie deadpanned. Jack chuckled.
"It must have its...roost?" Tosh asked, taking the torch from her mouth. "Or...eyrie? Nest? around here somewhere. It doesn't seem to be nocturnal, so it's probably on its way home."
"All right. We'll split up. Suzie go southeast, I'll go southwest. Owen, we're going to need a bigger field incinerator."
"I'll go back to the SUV," Owen volunteered. "See if any of the locals have something we could use."
"Tosh, keep your eye on the skies. Any idea what it was?"
"Well, it's either a pterodactyl or an alien doing a very good impersonation," she replied with a smile.
"An alien with a taste for sheep," Owen added.
"They wouldn't be the first," Jack said. Owen sighed.
"Are you sure handguns are going to do any good?" Suzie asked. "It looked thick-skinned -- "
"Stop where you are."
All of them looked up quickly, Jack moving a bare few inches to block Suzie, closest to him.
"Step away from each other. Hands in the air. I know you have guns; let's see them."
There was a figure moving through the grass, edging really; it was impossible to see more, but the barrel of a rifle was quite clear in the moonlight.
"I've said I'll have no hunting on this land. Weapons! On the ground!"
"We're not hunters," Jack said, turning his gun slightly so that the light caught its upraised barrel, pointing to the sky. "We're with Torchwood. Government special ops. You have a dangerous creature on your land."
The man halted. There was a tense second; then they saw his head move in the shadows, a tilt of annoyance.
"Torchwood," he said. He did not put the gun down. "That's all I bloody need."
"Aren't we supposed to be secret?" Owen asked Tosh, conversationally.
"You have a dangerous animal nearby," Jack tried. "We're here to -- "
"Kill it, I'm perfectly aware. Ah -- " the man said, as Owen reached into his coat. "Torchwood doesn't mean I won't kill all four of you."
"You don't think someone might come looking?" Jack asked.
"What," said a voice dripping with scorn, "like they did for Torchwood Four?"
"Who are you?" Suzie asked, but the man had stepped forward again, a hatch of moonlight falling on his face through the trees. Jack put on his best love to see you again beam.
"I'd recognise those dulcet Welsh vowels anywhere," he said. "Ianto Jones, isn't it? Good coffee. Great ass," he added, to Suzie. "You were attached to London."
"London burned," the man said. "You're on my property, Captain Harkness. I want you off it."
"We can't leave without the animal."
"She's not harming anyone." There was a wry echo to his next words. "Well. Except a few sheep."
"You know she's here?" Owen asked.
"What is she?" Tosh inquired.
"How do you know it's a she?" Suzie said.
Ianto Jones sighed, replaced the safety on his rifle, and slung it over his back in a quick, fluid move. Jack was impressed; the last time he'd seen the young man he'd been in a suit and tie, serving coffee to Yvonne Hartman and ignoring Jack's advances pointedly.
"You've scared her off; she'll be gone for hours now. You'd better come along," he said, and turned and walked away. They all looked to Jack, who shrugged, smiled, and set out to catch up with Jones.
***
There was a crackling fire, through the second line of trees, built in a stone-lined pit with a damp camp-cot next to it for sitting. Jones unshouldered the rifle, set it down, took a pack off his back and opened it. Jack gestured for Suzie and Tosh to take the bed; Owen looked cranky.
"Ianto Jones, this is Torchwood Three -- Suzie Costello, Owen Harper, Toshiko Sato. This is Ianto Jones, man of my dreams," he added to the others. Jones looked unimpressed and offered him a tall silver cylinder.
"You'll have to share the thermos; I wasn't expecting company," he said. He took a bag of marshmallows out of the pack next, offering them to Suzie.
"But you brought...marshmallows," Owen observed, as Suzie opened them.
"Must have some excuse for a fire in the middle of nowhere," Jones replied. "And the bats like them."
To demonstrate, he took one out of the bag and threw it high in the air. There was a leathery noise, and a small dark body spiraled around the marshmallow in its descent, nearly crashing into the ground as the marshmallow landed.
Jack took a sip of the coffee in the thermos, then a healthy swig, wiping the lip and passing it to Tosh.
"You're aware of the animal's presence," he said.
"Yes," Jones answered.
"You didn't see fit to contact Torchwood?"
"Isn't your concern. My land, my problem."
"We could have helped."
"You could have done what you are doing now, Captain Harkness, and tried to kill her."
"How do you know it's a her?" Suzie repeated.
"Conjecture and a few biology books." Jones reached into his bag again and pulled out a notebook so new the card binding was still stiff in the corners. He passed it to Jack, who opened it and raised his eyebrows. Inside was page on page of neat writing, half-competent sketchwork, and a few paperclipped newspaper articles. He flicked through it.
"You've been keeping records," he said, examining a glossy, obviously children's-book illustration taped to the third page. There was another torn-out book page on the next, from a much more advanced paleontology text.
"Well, one does," Jones replied. "First sighting was a week ago yesterday."
"That correlates with the rift activity we picked up," Tosh said. "Eight days ago. She came through over the bay and flew west."
"You don't seem too concerned about the sheep," Jack said, holding up a sketch of a pterodactyl with a woolly leg hanging out of its mouth.
"They aren't my sheep. Anyway, there are millions of sheep in Great Britain. There's only one pterodactyl."
"Estimated size and weight..." Jack continued to page through. "Feeding habits, potential roosting sites. What's this?"
"Training log," Jones replied, accepting the thermos that had made its way around the circle. He took a sip.
"You've been training. The pterodactyl," Owen said skeptically.
"She's reasonably bright. I've managed to alter her hunting zone significantly. She comes to the barn to feed now, or at least she has the last three nights." Jones gave him a dry smile.
"What were you planning on doing with her?" Jack asked. He handed the notebook to Owen, who studied it, Tosh leaning over one shoulder.
Jones gave him a blank look. "Doing?"
"You've trained her, you feed her. Were you going to sell her somewhere? Keep her as a pet?"
"Protect her," Jones said, and there was an odd, angry look in his eyes. "From you, as it turns out."
"She doesn't belong in this time," Suzie said.
"Ms. Sato?" Jones said suddenly. Tosh looked up. "Has there been any temporal instability in the area?"
Tosh studied a small, handheld screen. "Not that I can see."
"No brachiosaurii stomping about?"
"Point made, Mr. Jones," Jack said firmly. "She's still a threat. She's a wild animal. What if she goes after a child next?"
"She won't. That's why I'm training her. You can't shoot her just because she doesn't belong."
There was a screaming cry overhead, and all five of them looked up suddenly. Jones smiled.
"She's getting braver. Three days ago she wouldn't have come near this place if there were strangers about. Come on."
He kicked dirt over the fire and took off swiftly for the barn, half-jogging down a worn path through the trees. When they came out on the other side, the pterodactyl was resting on the ground, wings spread, hissing.
"Wants her supper," Jones said, in an oddly affectionate tone. He whistled, high and shrill, and the pterdoactyl answered with a short shriek. The others watched as he reached into another compartment of his backpack and took out a plastic bag with three huge steaks in it.
"Light meals on alternate days," Owen read from the notebook.
"I've theorised," Jones said, edging closer and opening the bag, "that they would hunt, then leave the carcass and come back the next day. She doesn't seem to need much protein on a daily basis."
He took out one of the steaks, swung underhanded, and threw the slab of meat across to her. She ducked her head and caught it, sliding it down her throat.
Jack was faintly impressed. Hand-feeding a pterodactyl was a new one on him.
"Can I try?" Suzie asked. Jones looked her up and down. "I'm good with animals."
He tossed her the bag. The pterodactyl made a low hooting noise that startled Tosh away from her computer screen.
"Have you tried getting close?" Suzie asked, holding out the steak but not throwing it.
"Once or twice, but...pterodactyl," Jones answered. "Claws like anything."
Suzie was easing forward, watched by one bright black dinosaur eye and four sets of human ones. She got within ten feet of the pterodactyl before it reared up, fanning the dust with its wings. The others drew back; only Suzie stayed where she was.
Eventually the flapping stopped, and the animal inched its head forward, opening its mouth.
"Fine, brat," Suzie said, and tossed the meat straight in. Jones took the notebook out of Owen's hands without speaking and uncapped a pen with his teeth, scratching more notes on the first blank page. Jack looked him up and down; he was thoroughly distracted with the business of records-keeping.
Before any of them could react, Jack pulled a stun-gun from his coat pocket. "Suzie!"
She turned and he threw it in a perfect arc; Suzie caught it and dove around the suddenly-agitated head, slamming the gun into its belly. She skittered out of the way as the animal screamed, then collapsed to the ground with an earth-shaking thud.
Jack glanced at Jones, who was staring, open mouthed, at the scene.
"Mr. Jones, we'll need a flat-bed and a tarp. How'd you like to take a trip to Cardiff?"
***
The farmhouse a quarter-mile from the barn was elderly but in good repair; Jones let them in through the kitchen and gestured at a wide table in the centre of the room, then went to the oddly out-of-place-looking telephone on the wall.
"William," he said, when someone on the other end answered. "It's Jones at Goludog-Tir. Aye. Aye yes, I know. Sorry to ring so late. You remember that beast that's been stealin' the sheep?"
Jack watched him more than the others as they spoke in low, excited tones. He'd slipped into a different dialect; the accent was still pure Welsh, but the words came out differently.
A quiet, false laugh.
"No sir. Mind if I steal your old tractor-hauler? Aye, tonight. Oh, Tuesday probably. Good good. I'll send someone. Keys still in the visor? Tell your missus, wouldn't want to be shot gettin' it out. Aye. G'bye."
He hung up the telephone. "Two miles down the road there's a barn with a flat-bed. Keys are in the visor, barn's unlocked."
"I'll go," Tosh said, obviously discomfited by the tidy, empty farmhouse.
"I'll come with, someone's got to drive the SUV back," Owen volunteered.
"West until you see the red signpost, north after that on the right," Jones said, walking to the gas stove nearby and putting a kettle on.
"D'you own this place?" Suzie said, looking around her. "It looks practically medieval."
"It is," Jones answered. "Tea, Ms. Costello?"
"Please."
"Captain Harkness?"
"No thanks. Your family still live here?" Jack asked.
"They're dead. I hold the deed, lease the land for sheep."
"Must be a bit boring, after London," Suzie said. "What do you do all day?"
"Cook. Walk. Read. Train pterodactyls," Jones replied, leaning against the counter next to the stove.
"Convalesce?" Jack asked.
Jones glanced down at his boots, the toes and the hems of his jeans caked in mud. "I wasn't injured. But -- no more work in London, and you lot weren't exactly advertising in the Echo."
"What did you do at London?" Jack asked. "Aside from look -- "
"I'd rather not talk about London," Jones interrupted quietly, but Suzie was already at work on her hand-held.
"Rotation: general support, logistics, archival," she said. Jack tilted his head; she nodded. "Floater. He went where he was needed."
"Good," Jack said. "You're needed in Cardiff. Pack a bag."
"As what?" Jones asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Pterodactyl logistician?" Suzie suggested.
"Eye-candy," Jack added.
"Don't listen to him. You can be my attache, I need help with the archives."
The young man looked indecisive; Jack expected a dry and cutting denial at any moment, but instead he looked east out the window, in the direction of the barn and the securely-netted unconscious pterodactyl.
"All right," he said. "But we don't kill Myfanwy."
"You named it," Suzie said. "That's...oddly adorable."
"Only sensible," Jones answered. "She can be trained to hunt over the bay. And you'll cover moving expenses."
"Done," Jack said. "But only if you show up to work every day in those jeans."
"I wear suits to work, Captain."
"He drives a hard bargain," Suzie said.
"I'll try and suffer. Welcome to Torchwood Three, Ianto Jones."
Jones smiled, and that same odd anger was behind his eyes. "Thank you, sir."
END
Title: Zero-Sum
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Jack/Ianto implied
Summary: "I don't think that anyone has ever questioned my manners in bed before. Restaurants, cars, the course of my duties, but never in bed." "I'm not surprised. I doubt many were around long enough afterwards."
Notes: This arose from a discussion
spiderine and I had here. Warnings: None.
Also available at AO3.
***
"Ianto. A word please."
The voice came out over the speakers; Ianto sighed and set down the file he'd been working on. As if on cue, all three heads raised; Gwen looking smug, Tosh looking envious, Owen looking disdainful.
"In a moment," he called back to the air. "Gwen, do you have the expenses?" Gwen held up the folder and grinned at him as Ianto took it. "Might as well carry them up." He raised his voice. "Coffee, sir?"
"No, thank you," the voice came again.
"Taking dictation?" Owen asked, as Ianto passed him.
"Taking your pulse?" Ianto retorted. Owen's taunting look faded.
Jack's office was messy again; Jack liked a certain amount of chaos, and Ianto had seen the disturbed, confused look that passed over the Captain's face on his return from wherever-he'd-been, when he found his office clean and waiting. What else had they had to do? Hold down the Rift, ride out the missions, and -- for Ianto -- clean the office, keeping it ready. Jack had taken delight in Messing it again.
"Expenses from Gwen," Ianto said, laying them on the corner of his desk. Jack, boots propped up, head tilted back, didn't bother looking at him.
"Owen still trying to charge his new clothes to Torchwood's account?"
"Well, I suppose death does require a new wardrobe."
"Dead of Torchwood, still kicking around is not justification," Jack said. Ianto contemplated Jack's throat, which was inappropriate but fun to do. "Sit down."
Ianto sat.
"Do you talk to Gwen?" Jack asked.
"Most days. Difficult not to."
"About us."
"Ah," Ianto said. "This would be about her bedside manner remark a few weeks ago."
"In one."
"I wasn't aware I shouldn't." Ianto studied the treads on Jack's boots. They were wearing down; he'd need a new pair soon. "After all, you shoved your tongue down my throat and then disappeared. People are bound to ask questions."
"I don't think," Jack said, eyes still firmly on the ceiling, "that anyone has ever questioned my manners in bed before. Restaurants, cars, the course of my duties, but never in bed."
"I'm not surprised. I doubt many were around long enough afterwards."
Jack's head snapped down at that. Ianto smiled, small and self-satisfied, in the face of Jack's steel-eyed stare.
"I pride myself on being an exception," he added quietly. Jack lifted his feet off the desk and planted them on the floor, leaning forward.
"Which is why," Jack said, "I wonder why you'd tell Gwen."
"I didn't," Ianto said. "Well, not that. I've never cast aspersions, nor had reason to."
"Well, she didn't pick it up first-hand!"
"Shocking in itself."
The stare was back.
"Surely you're aware you could snap your fingers and have her," Ianto said. "Snap twice and she'd probably talk Rhys round into coming along."
Jack's eyes unfocused slightly. Ianto could almost see the visions in his head. In the small things, Jack was often easily distracted.
"That's not the point," Jack replied, shaking his head slightly. "I don't want to snap my fingers at Gwen."
"You don't have to snap your fingers for me. So why fuss?"
"If you weren't happy -- "
"That's not at issue."
"It is to me. I thought we were done lying to each other."
Ianto shook his head. "I think that's a long way off, Jack. Which we're both aware is not even your real name."
Jack's mouth shut, pressed into a line, opened again. "And I thought I'd be the one who'd changed the most."
"When you came back? It's likely you are. Who I was -- well." Ianto touched his tie almost unconsciously, aware that Jack was fascinated by nothing so much as the undoing of a tie. "This is who I am. It's always who I've been. Now you get to see it, that's all. I have no complaints, sir, about your manners or your technique. Bruises, occasionally, but never complaints. Gwen deduced her statements on her own."
"From what you told her?"
Ianto sighed. Jack leaned forward.
"I hadn't anyone else to talk to. I told her what friends tell each other in the course of discussion; she did the same, which was enlightening but not overly interesting. From what I told her, she seemed to believe you were -- less than satisfying. Emotionally. Pardon the patriarchic stereotype, but it was a very...female thing to think."
"Are you?"
"Less than satisfied? No."
"I don't want satisfied, Ianto. I want gloriously well-fucked."
"Excuse me, Jack. I'm British."
Jack laughed a little at that, which was good; the tension had been entirely too thick.
"So what did you tell her that made her think...?"
Ianto shrugged. "I'm well aware that this isn't your world."
Jack's breath hitched; he had only meant in a cultural sense, but the little hitch told him something different, and he filed it quickly away before continuing.
"Presumably, given your attitudes and willingness to chase anything reasonably attractive and standing still for more than three minutes, sex is not an issue in your life. Not as it is here. It isn't..." Ianto pursed his lips. "It isn't the zero-sum equation all but the more adventurous types adhere to, consciously or otherwise."
"Zero-sum?" Jack asked.
"Kiss, foreplay, you come, I come," Ianto said.
"I think that's the filthiest thing I've ever heard you say."
"Well, most of the time I can't actually form words."
"I take it back. That is." Jack leered just a little. "So, Professor of Harkness Sexuality..."
Ianto smiled. "When we began, it was never about me. That was my decision, my initiative. And I came to realise that it never would be, so long as I assumed you believed in the equation."
"Can we leave mathematics out of our sex life?" Jack asked.
"Tell me. Wherever you come from. Was public sex considered taboo?" Ianto asked. He was honestly curious; any scrap of Jack's history was a welcome one.
"Only at formal gatherings," Jack said, grinning.
"What was taboo?"
Jack frowned. "Why?"
"Curiousity. I have a point to make, but why not ask?"
The frown deepend. "Incest. Rape. Intercession in a monogamous relationship. Not so different from now."
"Gwen mentioned twin acrobats."
"I really am going to have to gag her."
"I'm sure she'd enjoy it, if done properly."
Jack rolled his eyes.
"I imagine," Ianto continued, "that sex wasn't discussed, simply because there was no need. Not in any important serious sense, any more than one discusses cooking or clothing. Whereas here and now, it isn't discussed because so many find discussion so distasteful."
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"I am," Ianto said, and saw that this, too, floored Jack. Oh, the things I can show you, Jack, now that the walls are down. Wait. "And making a point."
"So you said."
"If you were to have sex with one of your...contemporaries, you would see to it that they enjoyed the experience."
"As you have proof."
"And how would you know?"
Jack gave him a sardonic look. Ianto refused to blush.
"They would tell you, one presumes. If they weren't satisfied in some way, they would say so."
The look faded.
"Here and now, it's considered bad manners. One should simply somehow know when one's partner is unsatisfied, unstimulated. It's really quite a terrible system, but we manage to keep reproducing, so I suppose it's not completely flawed."
"Are you saying -- "
"Jack."
Jack shut up.
"You take your pleasure, and if your pleasure lies in pleasing another, then certainly they will be. As you said, I have the proof. Vivid proof," Ianto said, and was aware that he was also drifting for a moment, now. "But you don't seem to think you should look for the signs of it -- you assume that your partner, whoever they be, will tell you in no uncertain terms what you've left undone."
"And have I?"
"Left me undone?"
"Left something undone which should have been done."
"Gwen seems to think so. But then Gwen is a very zero-sum woman."
"I'm not interested in whether Gwen thinks I don't satisfy you in bed."
"Do you believe I can know all this, Jack, and not know to speak up?" Ianto asked. "For a while, perhaps, but I am nothing if not observant." He leaned forward. "Do you remember the -- last time, before you left?"
Jack smiled. "Oh. Yes."
"I believe the phrase employed was 'demanding bastard'."
"Yes."
"What about the phrase 'ardent but unimaginative'?" Ianto asked. "As applied to those...previous. Ring any bells?"
He could see Jack casting his mind down through the years -- decades, centuries even.
"A whole symphony," Jack said quietly.
"They were waiting for you."
Jack's eyes were hunted. Perhaps that was too deep a cut.
"Hardly your fault, Jack," Ianto said, leaning close. "Call it a cultural gap. You had no idea you should be looking; they had no idea you weren't. They were waiting to be noticed, and weren't looking close enough themselves. I've done enough of that. We both have."
"So you've bridged the gap, have you?" Jack asked, his voice low and sweet.
"Call me a man ahead of his time," Ianto said, and heard another hitch. He wondered, idly, how much information he might be able to get out of Jack -- later, and in another place.
"How fast do you think I could clear the others out of the Hub?" Jack asked.
"Not now," Ianto said, with a grin that he knew bordered on the feral. "Not for hours yet. Hours you'll have to wait. Hours to mull this over."
He loosened his tie slightly. Jack swallowed.
"Demanding bastard," he muttered.
"Whatever it takes to keep the Captain happy. And, if you'll excuse me, I believe Owen and I are scheduled to insult each other. Keeps his spirits up," Ianto added, standing and nodding slightly. But he didn't move; he waited. Jack looked expectant, then puzzled, then amused.
"Are you waiting for me to dismiss you?" he asked.
"Yes," Ianto said simply. Jack's eyes darkened a shade.
"You're dismissed, Ianto."
"Thank you, Captain."
"Play games with me," Jack called, as Ianto's hand touched the doorknob, "and you won't win."
"Winning only matters in war," Ianto answered. "We play games for the sake of games. Don't worry," he added, just before the door swung behind him. "I'm a native. I'll translate for you when you get lost."
The door closed on Jack's laughter. It was good to hear.
END
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Lovely fics, both of them- the first one, I love how you evoked the landscape, and Suzie's characterisation was disturbingly good, I'd love to see what you made of her in a more suzie-centric fic. Zero sum was beautifully balanced- their interactions felt like a complicated dance, and the things you've left unsaid are wonderful. I am ridiculously in love with your Ianto, too ♥
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Glad you enjoyed the fics. I have the feeling that at least one and possibly both will get Jossed to oblivion soon, but they were fun to write anyway...