Ianto woke up at exactly 6am, his internal clock waking him precisely on the hour; despite the lack of light in Jack's subterranean bedroom. The first thing Ianto noticed was that he was cramped, extremely cramped. All his muscles had been tensed during the night to stop himself from falling out of Jack's narrow single bed.
The second thing he noticed was that he was unable to move. Jack had fallen asleep with an arm tight around Ianto's chest, like a seatbelt, in order to stop Ianto from tumbling out in the middle of the night. Jack's arm was heavy as his body was relaxed in sleep and it was showing no signs of loosening.
Ianto sighed and settled back down against the now too warm pillow; Jack needed all the sleep he could get these days, no sense in disturbing him until it was absolutely necessary. The last few weeks had been a trial, but they had made it through without any serious accidents. Even though Jack, for some inexplicable reason, liked to tell new recruits that he didn't sleep Ianto knew for a fact that Jack needed only slightly less sleep than he did.
Today was Thursday, so they only had one more day with the newbies. One more day to decide whom to hire. Personally, Ianto couldn't give a damn who they hired so long as Winstone wasn't one of them. Ianto was beginning to think that Jack felt the same way; the incident with the busker on Monday had been a major manifestation of insubordination that had been culminating all week.
It started out as small things: not saying thank you for coffee, trying to get into the secure computer archives without the proper passwords, making snide comments about everyone and everything when he thought Ianto was out of earshot. No, if Ianto Jones had anything to do about it, Dr Samuel Winstone would be Retconned and dumped in a bed-sit in Aberystwyth.
Ianto shifted slightly to move the weight of Jack's arm further up his chest as it had been creating a worrying amount of pressure on his rather full bladder. He knew that he really should be getting up. Martha was coming today to give the recruits physicals, and her train would be arriving at 8 am. She said she was going to bring her fiancé, Tom, with her to 'show him the sights of Cardiff'. Ianto still hadn't worked out if she was being sarcastic.
Just in case she was being serious, he had booked her the best suite that Cardiff's finest hotel had to offer; it was, after all, the least he could do for a visiting UNIT representative. Especially when she'd gone to all that trouble to get that beret….
Ianto shifted again and crossed his legs in an attempt to staunch the urgent need to empty his bladder.
"Ianto, lie still or I'll be forced to pin you to the bed." Jack's sleep fogged voice made Ianto freeze. For six seconds.
"Jack, let go. I have to use the bathroom."
"You're not going to wet the bed, are you?" Jack asked voice croaky from sleep.
"Not if you let me go." Ianto squirmed, but Jack's grip only tightened.
"What's in it for me?" Jack seemed infinitely more alert than he had thirty seconds ago.
"How about you don't have a bed full of urine?" Ianto rolled his eyes and tried to lever himself out of bed by pushing against Jack's chest.
"I've had worse."
"How about a cup of coffee?" Ianto asked bringing his knees up so he could kick against Jack's stomach.
"You'll get me one anyway."
"How about a cup of non-decaf coffee without any suspicious bodily fluids in it?" Ianto snarled as he strained against Jack's hold.
"Done." Jack said and let go of Ianto, without warning sending the younger man tumbling out of bed and onto the cool concrete.
Ianto took the time of curse colourfully before making a bee-line for the toilet.
At 8.23, Ianto Jones was still waiting in Cardiff Central Station for the train from London to arrive. Ianto had never liked the public transport system in Britain, to be frank, it was a bit of a joke. It was unpredictable, badly organised and annoyingly sporadic.
Ianto sighed as he adjusted his stance. He leant back against the wall and glanced once more at the arrivals board, which proclaimed that the train from London had in fact arrived, twenty three minutes ago—it hadn't.
Ianto felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he pulled it out, one new message; from Martha—
Train is late. Bloody public transport. : / Should be there in five, see you soon. Martha xx.
Ianto smiled at that and went to get some coffee from the nearby stall and some chocolate. Martha liked chocolate with her coffee. But very specific chocolate with specific types of coffee depending on the situation and level of crisis. When Owen died, it was a latte with extra sugar and a Galaxy. During that business with the Pharm, it was espresso with a Time Out. And the end of a long day, when all anyone wanted to do was go home and sleep, Martha liked a cup of tea with one spoon of sugar and some semi-skimmed milk and a Kit Kat. Stressful train journeys, however, required a whole new approach—cappuccino and a Drifter, so that the caramel and chocolate would melt and soak into the wafer.
Ianto had just made it back to his leaning spot when a large influx of people from the platforms indicated that the train from London had finally arrived. He saw Martha almost immediately; she was walking purposefully through the crowd looking confident and determined. Martha as wearing a black trouser suit and a dark red top; her hair was scraped back and she looked every bit the consummate professional.
Ianto straightened and smoothed down his tie—this was Doctor Martha Jones; UNIT representative and former companion of the Doctor—the least she deserved was his utmost courtesy and a well turned out escort. Ianto had taken special care in choosing his outfit for meeting the indomitable Dr Jones: a sharp black suit, white shirt and the black and red striped tie that he hadn't worn since Tosh and Owen had died. Still, it was a special occasion and Martha deserved the effort.
Ianto was able to pinpoint the moment that Martha spotted him because her slightly flustered scowl disappeared and she beamed, looking years younger as she did so. Ianto moved forward a few steps as she quickened her pace to a trot and enveloped him in a hug.
Ianto bent slightly to return the embrace, noticing that Martha was not only alone but had a bag that looked substantially bigger than an overnight bag. Ianto pulled back but Martha kept a hold of his upper arms to stop him from moving away. She studied his face intently for a moment before frowning.
"You look tired."
"Thank you, Dr Jones," Ianto replied dryly, "and I must say that you are looking your usual radiant self this morning."
Martha broke into a grin and swiped at his head. Then the grin dropped and she was sober once more: "Seriously, though, Ianto; how are you doing?"
Ianto shrugged, which in itself was difficult due to Martha's grip on his upper arms. "We're coping. Moving on. Rebuilding."
Martha nodded and gave his arms a final squeeze before letting go. Ianto handed her the coffee and chocolate and she gave a little squeal of delight. Ianto picked up Martha's bag and they started towards the exit.
"So, you decided not to show Tom the sights of Cardiff, then?"
Martha pulled a face and spoke through a mouthful of chocolate. "He had to work. He's been looking after this kid with Cystic Fibrosis for the last two years and it looks like the kid only has a few more days. He wanted to be there for the family."
Ianto gave a world-weary sigh. "That's the problem with nice guy hero-types. They're always saving the world or being supportive of terminally ill patients. It leaves no time for meeting friends. You should try getting engaged to someone heartless and cruel—that way he won't be getting detained doing nice stuff." They reached his car and he moved to the boot to put Martha's bag in.
Martha grinned up at him. "Yeah, I was thinking about doing a classified ad. 'Time-travelling saviour of the world seeks cold, unaffected man for romantic alien hunts and long-term companionship. Do-gooders need not apply.'"
Ianto laughed as he closed the boot. "I also noticed that your bag is a little on the large side."
"Those observational skills, Mr Jones, they're quite an asset."
"Honed from years of stating the blindingly obvious to more qualified superiors, I'm sure, Ma'am." Ianto replied with a smirk as he opened the passenger seat door for Martha.
"Well, thing is, Ianto, I thought I might stay for a while. Hunt some Weevils, catch up with Jack, meet the new recruits. Anyway, your doctor's going to need a bit of training, so I thought I'd stick around and lend a hand," Martha added defensively as Ianto slid into the driver's seat.
Ianto held up his hands in a placating manner. "I was only asking, Martha; we'd be delighted to have you."
"Good." Martha said sullenly but Ianto could see that she was trying hard not to smile. "So what are they like?" At Ianto's puzzled glance she clarified: "The new guys."
"They're…. a lot of hard work. You'll…like them."
Ianto's uncertainty must have shown on his face because Martha looked sceptical. You're slipping, Jones; time was you could hide a Cyberman in the basement for months without anyone cottoning on. Now you can't even tell a white lie convincingly.
Ianto wasn't sure if he was dismayed or delighted by that realisation.
Ianto was in the conference room with Gwen and Jack discussing the newbies who were undergoing their physicals with Martha. Martha's reunion with Jack had included much shouting, hugging and grinning. The newbies had been polite but taken aback; the presence of someone outside their normal sphere of influence in the Hub had thrown them a bit, and Dr Winstone and Henriett had seemed particularly wary—perhaps suspecting another rival. One who obviously had an affectionate relationship with their prospective boss.
Ianto had made a copy of each of the applicant's files for Gwen and Jack and one for Martha, who was going to be helping them with their decision on choosing a doctor. Jack had decided after much debate that the running was too close, and in order for them to choose a unequivocal test was needed. Ianto had taken this to heart and had devised a testing system for the prospective employees.
Martha was going to quiz the two doctors: she would give them hypothetical scenarios based on Owen's case files and her own experiences and see how they responded to novel experiences. The two technicians would be tested by Ianto and Jack. The applicants would be given a piece of alien tech from the archives and the team would observe how well they managed to categorise it, see if they were able to guess what it was used for and see if they could get it to work.
The first person to be tested was Jenny as she had finished her physical first. Ianto smiled at her as she entered the conference room and she gave him her customary wry smirk in return. "Good afternoon, Jenny: I trust that you are well."
"Cut the crap, Jones, I just spent thirty minutes being poked and prodded by an absolute sadist. I know that something's going on, and, as it's decision time tomorrow, I'm guessing it's something big." Jenny looked past Ianto to fix Jack with a level look.
"Okay, Jenny, this is a piece of alien technology," Jack said gesturing to a small unremarkable metal box sitting in the middle of the conference table. "It was found fourteen months ago in a field in Rhoose. You have access to all the equipment and archives in the Hub. If you need anything that you don't have clearance for, ask Ianto. I want a report with your findings on my desk at the end of the day. Go."
Jenny stood still for a moment, perhaps trying to work out if Jack was taking the piss—the applicants had certainly never seen him this serious before. She glanced at Ianto, who gave her an encouraging nod, before picking up the box and going to her computer. Ianto looked out the glass door.
"She's already typing like a woman possessed," he said, smiling slightly.
"She just picked it up," Jack said somewhat sadly.
"Yep." Ianto replied without turning around.
"Without knowing what it was."
"It could be worse, Jack, I've done worse; we all have." Gwen argued.
Without turning around Ianto could picture the perfectly serious expression on Jack's face when he spoke. "We can't afford that kind of carelessness anymore, Gwen. I'm not losing either of you any time in the near future, and certainly not due to some sloppy mistake."
Ianto turned around just as Jack placed a piece of technology that was identical to the one they had given Jenny on the table. Jack looked up and nodded to him. "Get Robert."
Ianto nodded and left the room, leaving Gwen to argue with Jack about how she wasn't made of glass and how she didn't need protection. She still bothered to argue; Ianto had given up arguing after the first few weeks. Jack was going to be protective, and that was that. But Jack's protection wasn't going to be much good. The evidence was in the archives and the morgue; Torchwood died young, and there was nothing Jack or anyone else could do about it.
Ianto found Robert sitting on the threadbare sofa watching Jenny type whilst holding a bandage over his arm. He was looking extremely sorry for himself.
"Robert," Ianto said softly breaking into the older man's reverie. Robert looked up and gave Ianto a small smile. "Jack would like to see you."
Robert nodded and stood, still clutching his arm.
"Are you alright?" Ianto asked, and Robert looked at him blankly. "Your arm." Ianto clarified gesturing the clean white bandage.
"Dr Jones just tried to kill me with the biggest needle I've ever seen in my life. But, I'll just about muddle through, I think." He smiled a rather weak tremulous smile and Ianto rolled his eyes and groaned.
"Don't tell me you're afraid of needles."
"So what if I am?" Robert shot back defensively, "The job doesn't involve capturing needles, it's catching aliens, and I'm not afraid of those."
"What abut Tedranians? Their skin surface is seventy-five percent covered in needles." Ianto asked with a raised eyebrow as they climbed the steps to the conference room.
"Give me a heads up and I'll call in sick that day." Robert replied as he entered the conference room in front of Ianto.
Ianto smirked as he walked into the conference room Jack glared at him so he put on his serious face. Really, he knew better than to be joking around with the applicants when Jack was trying to be intimidating.
And Jack really was being intimidating. He was practically glowering at Robert, and Ianto was sure that someone had messed with the thermostat because the room was definitely colder than it had been when he left—although that could just be because Gwen and Jack were shooting each other dirty looks every few seconds.
"Robert, this is a piece of alien technology." Jack said, gesturing to a small unremarkable metal box sitting in the middle of the table. "It was found fourteen months ago in a field in Rhoose. You have access to all the equipment and archives in the Hub. If you need anything that you don't have clearance for, ask Ianto. I want a report with your findings on my desk at the end of the day. Go. Now."
Robert seemed a little put out at the rapid change in mood but adapted quickly. He turned to Ianto. "Ianto, do you have any forceps or anything I could use?"
"Why?" Ianto asked trying to look puzzled and evidently succeeding because Robert gave him a despairing look.
"I'm not picking that thing up! I actually listened to those lectures last week and for all I know there's sex pheromones in there. The last thing I want to see is Torchwood Three under the influence of sex pheromones."
Out of the corner of his eye Ianto could see Jack smirking and obviously biting his tongue. But he obliged and fetched a pair of forceps from the cabinet at the side of the room. Ianto had a feeling that when Robert said Torchwood Three he really meant Jack Harkness.
Ianto had talked to Jack about his flirting with the applicants, and at first Jack had just laughed at him—not really understanding the problem. But when Ianto had maintained that he was indeed serious, Jack had promised to lay off the flirting—at least until the new people got settled.
Robert took the forceps and approached the technology gingerly, picking it up slowly and handling it as if it was a bomb. Ianto, Jack and Gwen watched him without speaking as he left the room and cautiously started down the stairs to where Ianto's computer was; it had been assigned to Robert for the duration of the trials.
"Was that cautious enough for you, Jack?" Gwen asked tartly.
"Perfection." Jack said sitting back in his chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Absolute perfection."
"Jack," Ianto said warningly, "you promised. No sexual harassment."
"That's not what you said last night."
Gwen choked on her coffee.
Ianto ignored them both. "I'm going to check on Martha. Do either of you need anything?"
Jack shook his head as he thumped Gwen on the back in a way that was no doubt annoying and unnecessary. Ianto thought Gwen might have shaken her head too but it was hard to tell with Jack hammering on her back.
Ianto found Martha in the medical bay with Doctors Winstone and Thompson, asking them questions and writing in a small notepad. Ianto stood at the top of the stairs and leant against the wall watching them.
This was a bit silly, he had to admit to himself. He was a grown man who couldn't set foot in a medical bay. It was just a room—just a room where one of his best friends had died. He could handle that.
Or could he? After his dad had died in his sleep in bed, Ianto had never set foot in his parents bedroom again; when his mother got sick, he moved her to a downstairs bedroom in order to take care of her. After Lisa's death, he hadn't been back into that room in the lower levels. He'd stood outside the door a few times looking in. Jack had found him once at three o clock in the morning shivering in a pair of boxers staring into that room but he hadn't said anything, just stared with him.
And now after Tosh dying in there, after washing her blood off the tiles (as well as he could) he couldn't make himself go into the medical bay. It really was silly.
Winstone's loud penetrating voice pulled him from his introspection.
"—get a blood gas and go from there."
Martha frowned and shook her head. "What if it cannot survive in our atmosphere?"
Winstone gave a noncommittal shrug, "Then we know something new about that species."
Martha nodded but Ianto could tell she wasn't happy with the answer. "Okay, Henriett, what conclusion would you come to if you found an alien that was growing despite mutilation?"
"What kind of mutilation?" Henriett asked, looking vaguely horrified. Ianto saw Winstone roll his eyes at her discomfort. Smug bastard.
"Someone was cutting it up to sell as meat." Martha replied as tonelessly as possible, not looking up from Owen's notes.
Henriett swallowed thickly before visibly pulling herself together and think about it. "I'd say that if it's still growing the protein chains must be replenishing themselves despite the mutilation. That would give a theoretical unending supply of meat. If we understood how that worked we could feed the world."
Ianto nodded along with Martha, allowed himself a small, slightly bitter, smile and resisted the urge to say, "We could release a single." She was good, really good, almost brilliant in fact. Owen would have liked her. But he probably wouldn't have admitted it until it was too late. He could be a stubborn like that.
"Good." Martha said. "Samuel, you have a Weevil come in. Female. Violent and dangerous; she has already wounded one of your colleagues and has a visible life-threatening wound. What is your course of action?"
"Morphine." Winstone's answer was simple and direct.
"I'd give her a fatal overdose of morphine; from what I've read in Dr Harper's notes it's a relatively peaceful way for them to go. They don't have a high resistance to opiates."
Martha nodded. "Okay, and Henriett, same scenario."
"It's a female and she's violent?" Henriett asked, Martha nodded. "I'd sedate her first, then I'd get an ultrasound to see if she was pregnant."
"A pregnant Weevil?" Winstone scoffed.
"Well, they hardly just spring out of the ground, Samuel."
Ianto fought against the urge to laugh as he pictured a Weevil sexual education class.
"That's fine. You two are done. You can go home. Jack will let you know his decision tomorrow morning; be here at 9am." And with that Martha dismissed them.
Ianto left Martha to it and went to the coffee machine to make her the greatest invention of the beverage world (in Martha's opinion anyway), a combination of chocolate and coffee—the almighty mocha.
From where he was standing, Ianto was enough in the shadows that Winstone obviously couldn't see him but close enough that he could hear the older doctor's low-pitched words.
"Who the hell does she think she is anyway? She's as bad as that stuck up sheep-shagger." Ianto smiled grimly at that rather concise description of his person. "I don't need a woman telling me what to do, and I certainly don't need that self-righteous little bitch telling me how to do my job."
Henriett's reply was somewhat cut off by the sound of blood rushing through his ears but Ianto was pretty sure she said. "After tomorrow I won't have to deal with you, your horrible sexism or your ridiculous brand of humour again; do me a favour, don't talk to me anymore."
Ianto took quick, firm strides and reached the cog door just in time to cut the two doctors off. "Dr Winstone, a word if you please," he said evenly, managing to suppress the tremor of rage that was threatening to spill over into his voice.
Winstone looked at him patronisingly, "Jones, if this is anything to do with coffee or filing it can wait until tomorrow. I have plans."
"Not anymore you don't. Captain Harkness would like to see you in his office."
Winstone grinned at Henriett. "Looks like you can get back to Cardiff General, sweetheart; the Captain has made his decision." And without waiting for Ianto Winstone made for Jack's office.
Henriett looked at Ianto imploringly, but he kept his face blank and his voice toneless lest the anger he was hastily compartmentalising took over. "Go home, Dr Thompson; we will see you at 9am to receive Captain Harkness' decision." Henriett gave a brisk nod and left through the cog door, leaving Ianto to follow Winstone into Jack's office.
When Ianto entered the office, he was faced with an angry Winstone standing in front of him, a confused Jack sitting behind the desk and an amused Martha sitting on the desk. Gwen must have slipped off home when it was quiet, and as far as Ianto knew the two technicians were in the conference room using the various assortment of scanners that Ianto had laid out there.
"What the hell is going on here, Jones?" Winstone growled.
"What did you say to me, boy?"
"I said shut the hell up! And you'd do well to follow the orders of higher ranking officers, Dr Winstone." Ianto snapped. He looked up and saw all the other three giving him shocked looks, but Jack also looked concerned.
Ianto closed his eyes and took a breath. And another. And he thought calm, peaceful thoughts like that first cup of perfect coffee on a cold winter morning and the pattern on that blue tie of his that Jack particularly liked.
Ianto opened his eyes, looked straight at Jack and took another breath.
"I want him gone, Jack."
Jack visibly started, as did Winstone where he stood next to Ianto.
"I want him gone." Ianto repeated calmly.
"You jumped up little bastard, what the hell gives you the right--"
"Enough!" Jack shouted, and Winstone shut his mouth with a snap. Jack stood and walked around the desk so that he was face to face with the doctor. Martha moved off the desk and took a couple of steps back to give Jack some room.
"No one speaks to my team like that. Do you understand?"
Jack turned to Ianto; his voice was quiet but his tone and expression demanded a truthful explanation. "Explain yourself, Ianto."
"Dr Winstone has been nothing but verbally abusive, disrespectful and insubordinate since he started here." Ianto said, not breaking eye contact with Jack, "It is my belief that he is incapable of following orders or showing his co-workers even a modicum of respect."
Jack gave a slow thoughtful nod and turned to Winstone. "Dr Winstone, would you like to comment on these claims?"
"Jones is overreacting; obviously he can't take a joke--"
"A joke?" Ianto cut in with a disparaging laugh, "In regards to Ms Cooper he has said, and I quote; 'the only thing wider than the gap in her teeth is the gap between her ears.' In regards to Dr Thompson 'It's not right for a woman like that to be working in medicine; she's breeding stock.'" Ianto's lip curled slightly as he spoke, and he noticed the twin looks of outrage and disgust on Martha and Jack's faces.
"During a conversation with Miss McGregor; 'The only thing the Scots ever got right were deep fried Mars-bars and heroin; that way they can cull the working classes before they can procreate.' Speaking about Mr Carmichael; 'It's lucky that kid's good with computers, maybe he can get himself some cyber-sex, because he certainly isn't going to get it any other way.' Do I need to continue, sir?"
"No, thank you, Ianto; that's enough." Jack looked vaguely shell-shocked and, for once, a little lost for words.
Winstone, however, was not thus challenged and he rounded on Ianto: "What the hell have you been doing, skulking around in the shadows, spying on me?" He hissed, stepping closer to the archivist. "Well, fuck the lot of you. Why the fuck would I want to work with an anal-retentive, sexually frustrated little wanker like you anyway?"
Ianto sidestepped just as Winstone swung a rather sloppy fist at him. Jack reached forward and grabbed the doctor's arm, swinging him around and planting him face first onto the desk. Jack twisted Winstone's arm up behind his back and leaning close he whispered menacingly in his ear.
"Number one, no one insults my team like that. Number two, no one touches my team. Number three: there is no way that he's sexually frustrated, Sammy-boy." Jack stood and yanked Winstone up with him. "Ianto, get the Retcon."
"Jack, you can't just Retcon him." Martha protested as Ianto got the box from a secure drawer in Jack's desk.
"I don't see how we have choice in the matter, Martha, I really don't." Jack's steady gaze never left Winstone's face and his words were spit out like venom. "This excuse for a human being is the type who would hold a grudge, and he probably still has some buddies from his UNIT days. I'm not risking anyone on this team to his petty vengeance."
Ianto came to stand beside Jack with a glass of water and two level six Retcon pills; he handed Jack his Webley. Jack cocked the gun and held it levelled at Winstone's face. "Take the pills."
"You going to shoot me if I don't?" Winstone's voice was disbelieving and a bit mocking.
Winstone broke eye contact with Jack first, looking down to the pills that were sitting in Ianto's outstretched palm.
"How much will I remember?"
"You'll remember up until two weeks ago. You'll remember us and Torchwood but not where the Hub is and not anything you did here." Ianto answered calmly. "You'll just think that you didn't get through the interviews."
"What if you get it wrong? What if I forget everything?" Winstone was looking a bit scared now, and Ianto started to feel a bit sorry for him. But just a bit.
"I won't get it wrong."
Winstone held his gaze for a few seconds before nodding and taking the pills. He swallowed them both at once, downing the entire glass of water and obligingly opening his mouth to let Ianto make sure he'd swallowed them.
"What are you going to say happened?" Martha asked as Jack and Ianto settled the nearly unconscious Winstone onto the couch.
Jack shrugged, but Ianto smirked a little; "Drunken fortnight in Aberystwyth?"
The next morning Ianto sat in a row on one side of the table with Jack on his left and Martha on his right, Gwen on Jack's other side. Across the table from them sat Jenny McGregor, who looked both nervous and defensive.
Five minutes ago Dr Henriett Thompson had left the room as the new Torchwood Medical Officer.
Ianto had Jenny's report on the alien technology on the table in front of him. She had, wrongly, concluded that the piece of tech was a weapon that manipulated a person's brainwaves in order to send them into a comatose state.
It was, in fact, the Altrusian equivalent of an iPod.
"Jenny," Jack said, breaking the contemplative silence. "You're brilliant and funny and a wicked shot, but I am afraid that at this time we cannot offer you a position at Torchwood Three."
Jenny looked crushed even though she attempted to hide it. Ianto spoke softly to her with an encouraging smile on his face, "However, we would like the offer you training with Torchwood Cardiff one weekend of every month until such time as we are convinced that you are ready to join the team."
Jenny looked surprised, then happy, then grateful; finally her face took on its usual wry smirk, "Let's face it, Jones, you just didn't want to compete with my legendary paperwork skills." She stood and held out a hand to Jack.
"Thank you, Captain, I certainly appreciate it."
Jack shook her hand with a charming grin. "Give my regards to Archie."
"No chance, anything you have for Archie you give it to him yourself."
Jenny shook hands with each of them before leaving the room and motioning to Robert that he should go in.
Ianto watched with amusement as Robert nervously made his way into the room and sat in the chair that Jenny had just vacated. Ianto glanced down at Robert's report; he had guessed that the piece of tech was some sort of musical instrument, which wasn't exact, but it was pretty damn close considering he only had one day to work on it.
Jack didn't bother with preamble, he simply stood up, walked around the table, grabbed Robert's head in his two hands and kissed him soundly on the lips. Gwen and Martha cheered whilst Ianto looked on exasperated. Jack drew back and beamed. "Welcome to the team."
Then he hit the floor from the impact of Robert's fist meeting his face.
Ianto walked around the table to stand beside Robert; he took a look over the technician's shoulder at Jack's prone body and put a friendly hand on Robert's shoulder.
"Welcome to Torchwood."
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