Title: Lacking clarity

Author: m_findlow

Rating: PG

Length: 1,480 words

Content notes: None

Author notes: Written for Challenge 383 - Clear

Summary: Jack thought his instructions to the team had been clear, but evidently he was wrong.


Jack chewed his lip as he lounged back in his chair, wondering where he'd gone wrong. Had he not been clear enough in his instructions. He was pretty sure he'd made it abundantly so that nothing should ever leave the hub without his say so, and yet his whole team had been snuggling things out at night, meddling with them in uncontrolled conditions, alone and without backup.

Admittedly, most of what had been returned was innocuous stuff. A data translation device and pheromone spray were hardly likely to end the world. Then again, he'd thought the glove was pretty innocuous, too. At least in the sense that he hadn't thought it could hurt anyone. If anything, it promised to be something that could potentially save people. They'd all tried it but none of them managed that same empathic connection that Suzie had with it, making it able to channel the souls of the deceased. That was why Jack hadn't given it too much thought. It hadn't drawn him in with its promise of linking up two consciousnesses – putting the living in a position to be able to call on the dead. All he'd been worried about was how much it was costing them to keep the research going. Nevermind the traipsing out to crime scenes to test it on the victims of a local serial killer. The threat of a madman out on the streets, cutting people down from behind hadn't scared him. Knowing now that the madman had been amongst them the whole time scared him far more.

He didn't know how to underscore the issue any more than he already had, but perhaps Suzie's death had done that more effectively than any words could have. It was the wake up call they'd needed for realising that Torchwood was an inherently dangerous place. What looked like an innocuous piece of alien technology could kill you. The problem was, he'd seen it all before. Where he should have been thinking about those last minutes of Suzie's life, all he could see in his mind's eye was another person with a gun held to their own head. Alex Hopkins had been a victim of alien technology and all of them had paid the ultimate price because of it. Jack had regretted not being there enough at the time. He would have recognised Object One and told Alex to lock it away in the deepest depths of the hub, never to be touched or even looked upon. He'd seen what devastating influence it could inflict on the world. It had tried to destroy Torchwood to ensure its own survival.

It was impossible not to draw parallels between Alex and Suzie. He'd admired them both for their intellect and ability. They were people made for Torchwood. Not everybody was, but they lived and breathed its many quirks and heart racing action. It was a job that could consume you. Jack should know – he'd been here longer than any of them – and whilst he had his own reasons for never straying too far from Cardiff, he too felt the duty and need to keep driving Torchwood's agenda forward. He just hadn't realised that under his leadership that he might be subjecting his team to the same dangers that had been cloaking Torchwood operatives' lives for over a century. He'd imagined it would be different this time. That he knew more than the others had and that in itself would protect them. That's he'd see trouble coming long before it had a chance to hurt anyone. Now he knew that he'd been just as blind as the rest of them. Emily, Tilda, Alex, Yvonne, and so many others. People who'd taken on the mantle of leadership for the betterment of all, and each of them had suffered death and disaster. Now it was Jack's turn to feel the pain of that failure.

Quiet footsteps broke the haze of his despondency. He knew the sound of those shoes anywhere, expecting that they'd come to bring coffee and perhaps some paperwork to take his mind off things. Instead a crystal tumbler of amber liquid slid into view. Jack could almost smell the charred oak that marked it as a bottle of very expensive scotch.

'Thought you could do with one of these,' Ianto said. 'I know I do,' he added, Jack noticing only now that a second timber was clutched in his hand as he settled into the chair opposite Jack. The others had gone home after Jack's dressing down, his amnesty on returning stolen technology back to the hub as short-lived as his empathy for them. The only other souls remaining was the young police constable, now sleeping on their battered sofa after Owen had given her a sedative to take the edge off the worst of what she'd experienced. Jack had thought he'd been alone. He should have known better than to expect Ianto would leave him all the paperwork associated with the death of an employee.

Jack wrapped his hand around the tumbler and took a sip. It was as warming and smoky as it promised, and he swallowed again, draining half of it before he knew it. Ianto was right. He had needed it.

'I've filed away all of the purloined items,' Ianto reported. The way he said it caught Jack off guard, as if he'd done nothing more than stow away the groceries. He didn't feel the same sense of relief as Jack did, knowing they were now out of harm's reach. For Ianto, it was just business as usual. That's what made Jack pause and consider the obvious.

Jack tipped his glass back, taking another swallow of the burning liquid before losing his question. 'When I asked everyone to rerun the things they'd taken from the hub, I couldn't help but notice you didn't surrender anything.'

'I didn't have anything to surrender,' he replied, plainly and without preamble.

There was such an honesty in his expression that Jack immediately distrusted it. Perhaps it was gut instinct, or perhaps it was the alcohol affecting his clarity. 'I won't be angry. I just need to know. We're all human. We all give in to temptation. All I want is to protect you all. The twenty-first century just isn't ready for all of this yet.'

'I promise you, sir. I haven't ever taken anything out of the hub. Not without your express permission, and mostly that just means taking the SUV to the car wash.'

Jack chuckled at that. Of course. He was being paranoid now. Ianto was a rule follower. He didn't get drawn into investigations the same way the rest of them did. He was always here at the hub, first thing in the morning and last one to leave most nights. When would he have time to take anything home and toy with it? 'You've never been tempted? Nothing that's caught your eye?' He was past wanting to know for the sake of being reassured. He just wanted to know what kind of alien technology would interest Ianto. Owen and Tosh Jack could read like a book. Their choices were so obvious once they'd been sitting there on his desk. Tosh who loved crunching data and Owen who was happiest when he had someone crunched up against his lips. Did he enjoy the boys and the girls, Jack wondered? That pheromone spray wasn't discerning. A pity he'd probably never find out.

'I have everything I need to do what I have to do right here,' Ianto replied, cutting off Jack's mental conjuring of images of Owen in the three way with some hunky local rugby player and his girlfriend. For three whole seconds Jack's mind had been turned from despair at having lost his second in command through a totally preventable situation – if only Jack had been awake to it.

He set his glass, now empty, back on the leather blotter in front of him. 'That's good to know. Thanks for the drink. Now go home and get some sleep. It's been a tough day and I've still got our police constable to deal with.'

'You're going to offer her Suzie's job.' It was a statement rather than a question. Was Jack so transparent?

'I was considering it. Not Suzie's job. Just a job.' It was too soon to be thinking about replacing someone who's left a Suzie shaped hole in his team. He was thinking clearly. This wasn't just a knee-jerk reaction, replacing a well loved pet with a brand new puppy. He'd seen potential in her. That Torchwood thirst for understanding. And now also an appreciation for what it cost if you strayed.

'I'm sure you know what you're doing,' Ianto replied, tipping back the remnants of his scotch and clearing away the two glasses. 'Good night, sir.'

'Night, Ianto,' he replied, feeling unsettled for reasons he couldn't explain.