Fandom: Torchwood

Characters: Ianto, Jack

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 1,507 words

Content notes: none

Author notes: Written for Challenge 281 - Match

Summary: Ianto gets some unexpected help with a tough project.


Ianto dropped the dossier onto the pile with a resounding thwack of paper on paper. Only forty six to go, he thought with equal parts relief after resignation. This was the last time he opened his mouth and offered to do something their computers couldn't, especially when it was someone else's investigation.

Usually, people who got caught up in rift related things stood out like the proverbial. They were either the kind who went looking for trouble, and therefore had well documented files with the police and other intelligence authorities, or they were the kind who, having experienced something weird, couldn't help but alter the behaviour in ways that were obvious and predictable, if you knew what you were looking for.

Owen's latest case however, had them completely stumped. They hadn't had a decent lead for days and now the only thing they had was three seconds of CCTV of someone who was likely their perp and a handful of uselessly unhelpful eye witnesses. Even more frustrating was that their target, and whatever it was that they were in possession of, had disappeared without a trace - literally. They couldn't get CCTV from any of the surrounding shops or street cameras because the man - and they were all ninety-nine percent convinced it was a man - hadn't walked away from the scene. He was just there one moment and gone the next.

There could be any of a thousand explanations for it. Perhaps he was visible only part of the time and in fact hadn't gone anywhere, just minding his own business as he appeared and disappeared down the street off to pick up milk. Perhaps he had some kind of teleport device, but in which case, Ianto could help but wonder why you wouldn't take advantage of that sort of thing. Your average Joe discovering he could go from place to place at the drop of a hat might be tempted to try robbing a bank or a jewelers, making a clean getaway. And speaking of getaways, if you could, why not take yourself off to somewhere nice? A holiday in Spain, a meal at a nice restaurant and disappearing before you had to pay, or slipping yourself into an unoccupied five start hotel room for the night. That's what he might do. No one came to Cardiff for a holiday.

None of those explanations particularly worried Jack. What had him annoyed was the possibility that this was someone slipping in and out of time. On a scale of bad rift stuff, that was right up there. They could be inadvertently altering timelines without even being aware of it, or worse, altering them on purpose. That was why they needed to try and identify him, find him, and figure out what was the real story.

Ianto picked up the next file and opened it, studying the photo. He squinted at the computer screen, trying to compare the shape of the nose, the chin, mouth and ears. Back and forth his eyes darted between the file and the screen, trying to ascertain if it was a possible match. He growled under his breath. What was the point of having CCTV cameras all over the city if the images were too grainy to ever be able to identify someone from them? He could use heuristics to get it down to a probable match, but this sort of thing would never stand up in a court - not that it would ever have to in their case, but that wasn't the point. All that CSI stuff on TV was bollocks about how they could refine the images and zoom in on them perfectly. Even Torchwood's computers weren't that good. Oh yes, we zoomed in and found that the piece of lint on his collar was an exact match for lint we found at the crime scene. What a load of rot.

He heard the footsteps behind him as he continued to compare the two pictures.

'Finished trying to destroy your eyesight?' Jack asked. 'I've heard of donating your eyes to science but those guys are usually dead first.'

Ianto rubbed at them with his thumb and forefinger. They were tired and scratchy and probably needed half a bottle of eyedrops. 'This is the last time I open up my big mouth and volunteer to check the results by hand, or eye, as it were.'

Jack chuckled. 'I did warn you.'

Ianto huffed. 'Well, no one else was volunteering.'

Jack gave the tall piles of manila folders the up and down look. 'I can see that. Where is everyone else, by the way?'

'Gone home, I'd assume.' He didn't need to consult his watch to know it was late and well past normal going home time, if there were such a thing.

Jack folded his arms. 'So, how come you're still here?'

'Refer previous answer.'

Jack began picking up the files from the pile that read "possible matches" according to the bright blue post it note left on top. He squinted at them as he checked them against the blurry still shot, just as Ianto had been doing. 'This one isn't even close.'

'Really?' Ianto grabbed the file from Jack's outstretched hand and checked it again. 'I thought it did, but now that you mention it.' Truthfully, on a second viewing, they were nothing alike. How had he ended up so far off the mark? Had must have put it in the wrong pile by accident.

Jack checked through next few on the pile and decided they weren't much better, much to Ianto's disappointment. As he progressed a bit further down the pile, he agreed that they got closer to the actual image, but that it was a tough call. 'Exactly how long have you been at this?' Jack asked.

'A while,' he said, keeping his response vague. Basically until he'd gotten so cross-eyed that he couldn't tell a match from a clear not a match, apparently.

'I get the impression that your ability to tell one from the next is waning. Didn't I tell you you'd destroy your eyesight? Maybe I should check the reject pile as well,' Jack said, picking up the first one.

The last thing he needed was Jack telling him the reject pile were a better match than the definitely/maybe pile. 'That one is definitely not a match,' Ianto said, sounding as confident as he could. He didn't want Jack thinking he couldn't do this job. He still hadn't really made it out into the field all that much, but getting involved with the investigations by way of more than just making the coffee that sustained the investigators and picking up the mess they left tin their wake, was definitely an improvement on his standing within the team.

Jack gave him a raised eyebrow. 'Really? I'm starting to think that if I slipped my mugshot in there you might decide it was a good fit.'

Ianto bristled at the insinuation. 'I doubt it.'

'Why? Too handsome?' Jack grinned as he said it.

Ianto avoided biting at the overly obvious bait dangled there in front of him. 'Too short,' he said.

'Too short? Me?' Jack leaned his hip against the edge of the desk. 'You can't tell one face from the next but you can judge his height?'

Ianto rolled his eyes, pointing at something in the background of the CCTV. 'He walked past that parking sign a few frames earlier. That is a council standard height of six feet ten inches. He's only about four inches shorter, so that makes him six six. You're only six two.'

'It's not the size that matters but what you do with it,' Jack replied, unable to resist the clichéd comeback line. 'So, we go through them and cut out anybody under six four, just to be on the safe side.'

'Which is all well and good if everyone had their height officially recorded. Unless they've got a police record, good luck telling if they're six four or a dwarf.'

Jack's expression was one that was determined not to be put off by a mere statistical gap. 'Well, what's say I double check all of these anyway.'

'You don't have to do that, sir. I can come back and re-check them all tomorrow before handing you a short list.'

'Nonsense. I'm here, you're here, and nobody else is here. Two pairs of eyes gave got to be better than one, am I right? Especially when one lot aren't tired and are also dazzlingly blue.'

'Derek Zoolander has nothing on you,' Ianto replied deadpan.

'I'll do the visual check,' Jack said. 'You can do your magic paperwork thing of checking their files and seeing if we have any way of determining their height. How many freakishly tall guys in Cardiff can there be?'

Ianto sighed and pushed the pile of files towards Jack. He k new better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. At least someone on the team was offering to help. 'Sounds like a perfect match to me.'