Atlantis Café

by Soledad

Title: Atlantis Café

Author: Soledad

Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis/Torchwood x-over

Category: Cross-genre

Characters:

Torchwood: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper, Rhys Williams, Dr. Martha Jones, Prime Minister Harriet Jones, Others.

Atlantis: Richard Woolsey, Rodney McKay, John Sheppard, Carson Beckett, Radek Zelenka, Miko Kusanagi, Jennifer Keller, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Bates, Others

Rating: Teens.

Genre: Action-adventure/Romance

Timeframe: Shortly after the 2nd series finale for Torchwood

Throughout Season 5 for SGA. Yes, I know I've twisted the timeline a bit to make the two shows fit, so what? This is an AU

Summary: After the deaths of Toshiko and Owen, Ianto is sent to Atlantis by PM Harriet Jones, to serve British interests as Richard Woolsey's aide. Here he meets the person who changes his life forever.

Disclaimer: the usual: don't own, don't sue! Everything belongs to RTD and BBC and whoever owns the rights for the Stargate universe at the moment. All I own is the plot.

WARNING: This is not a Gwen-friendly story, as I despise the character. I was fairly moderate to her in this one; still, if you don't like her being portrayed unfavourably, please hit the Back button now. You have been warned.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Part 01 – The Call

Author's note: Yes, I do know that Harriet Jones no longer is the Prime Minister after the second series of Torchwood; in fact, if I'm not mistaken, she isn't even alive anymore. But I needed the PM to be her, specifically, for a really bad joke to work, so I decided to mess up the timeline a bit more.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Getting a personal call from the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom was not something Ianto Jones would have expected. Ever. In the rare cases the government felt forced to give up its feigned ignorance about Torchwood, the Prime Minister always called Jack. That was the way things were done. When the government needed to acknowledge the existence of Torchwood, the call went to the leader of the organization.

Back in the olden days, when Torchwood had still had several branches and almost nine hundred employees, that person had been Professor Yvonne Hartman, he director of Torchwood One. Now, with Torchwood One destroyed, and Torchwood Four lost, and less than ten staff still alive, the person to contact would have been, by all rights and purposes, Captain Jack Harkness.

And yet, this time Prime Minister Harriet Jones – or, to be more accurate, her secretary – was asking for Ianto personally. What was more, she asked him for a personal meeting. In London. Preferably yesterday. Or the day before.

In the face of a request coming from such a high place, what was a lowly Torchwood employee to do? Ianto promised to book the next flight to London, of course. To his even greater surprise, that offer got rejected.

"There's no need, Mr. Jones," the nameless secretary said. "Agent Bates from the I.O.A will pick you up at Roald Dahl Plass within two hours and take you to an airport, from where you and a few other selected people will be flown to London by a private jet. This will be just a short visit, so you won't need to pack too much."

With that, the secretary hung up, leaving Ianto thoroughly confused.

The rest of the team – those who had survived the recent visit of Jack's long-lost brother, that is – was every bit as surprised as Ianto himself. Actually, to be honest, Jack was more than a tad miffed by the fact that he hadn't been informed – or even contacted in any way – first.

"Well, if that ain't wonderful!" he scowled. "Instead of stocking up the team, even those I still have are called away."

Gwen's ears perked up in interest. "You want to hire new team members? Where would you get them from? Have you got some candidates already?"

Jack nodded. "I was thinking of Martha Jones. She's the ultimate expert on alien life, she could fill Owen's place better than anyone else. Besides, she's got previous experience, and I know I can trust her."

Gwen made an unhappy face, remembering the regal-looking black woman who had briefly worked with them in the previous year. She didn't like competition, and Dr. Martha Jones, beautiful, competent and brave, not to mention a close confidant of Jack's due to their shared adventures with the mysterious Doctor, had made her realize how woefully unqualified she still was, compared with everyone else in Torchwood. Even Ianto, whom she hadn't considered as serious competition for quite a while… only to be proved wrong.

Ianto, on the other hand, would have welcomed to work with Dr. Jones again, despite the dull pain the knowledge that she'd shared the year all the others had missed with Jack caused. She was witty, funny and highly competent – not to mention clearly uninterested in Jack, which was a relief.

"She would be a great asset to the team, assuming you can persuade her to join Torchwood permanently," he said. "Any other people you'd consider?"

Jack nodded again. "Mickey Smith," he said. "He used to travel with the Doctor for a while, but returned to London Unfortunately, he's stuck in the same parallel universe the Cybermen have come from and is no longer available for us. I quite liked him, to be honest.."

Ianto gave him an amused look. "It isn't without a certain irony that you're trying to gather former companions of the Doctor, to stock up the very organization that was originally founded to catch him," he commented.

"That's the beauty in the idea," Jack grinned. "But really, Mickey is a Torchwood veteran. Right before the Battle of Canary Wharf, he'd managed to infiltrate the London branch, under a different name – I think he called himself Samuel, back then."

Ianto looked at him in surprise… perhaps a little hurt. "I thought you've severed all ties with Torchwood One; that you didn't hire anyone who used to work for them."

"That's different," Jack replied. "Mickey was never an enemy of the Doctor's."

Gwen looked at them stupidly, which wasn't really surprising, considering the fact that she'd never bothered to make herself familiar with the history of Torchwood. She always thought that Jack's short introduction would be enough.

"What are the two of you talking about?" she demanded.

Ianto rolled his eyes. "You should, at the very least, read the Torchwood Foundation's Charter; the Doctor was written into it as an enemy of the Crown, back in 1897," he explained. "Queen Victoria apparently decided that the Doctor was dangerous, and declared that if he ever returned, Torchwood would be waiting," he gave Jack a darkly amused look. "I'm sure she didn't quite mean it the way you did."

"Well I've rebuilt Torchwood in the Doctor's honour," Jack replied with a shrug, "and with a different stance. I never liked their aggressive policy on extraterrestrial life."

"Considering where you come from, it's not really surprising," Ianto returned dryly. "But the way Torchwood is now doesn't really match the Queen's original intention, you have to admit it."

"I do" Jack shrugged again. "However, we no longer work under the authority of the headquarters in London."

"That would be a bit hard, wouldn't it, as the Queen has ordered the closing of Torchwood One in 2006," Ianto said. "We're an independent organization now, and you're the de facto leader of what's still there of Torchwood. Archie in Glasgow doesn't really count, and we both know it."

Gwen, completely unfamiliar with the long and complicated history of Torchwood, had been listening to their argument the way one would watch a tennis match: looking from Jack to Ianto and back all the time. It almost seemed to her as if they were talking in a foreign language.

"How comes you know so much about these things?" he asked Ianto in surprise.

Ianto shot her an unfriendly look. "I used to be a junior researcher at Torchwood One, under the wings of Rupert Howart, who used to be a notable senior member. I was supposed to become an archivist and a computer expert like Tosh. I didn't do all that bad at university, so they wanted me to attend special courses after I graduated," he shrugged. "It never came to that."

"Why not?" Gwen asked. "What happened?"

"The Battle of Canary Wharf happened," Ianto replied grimly. "A small advance force of Cybermen from an alternate universe crossed the spatial breach above Torchwood Tower, killing or subverting – or 'upgrading' – seven hundred and ninety-six members of staff. That was the end of Torchwood One. Only twenty-seven of the eight hundred and twenty-three staff members survived. Miraculously – or unfortunately, depending on your point of view – I was one of them."

"In the wake of that battle, Her Majesty ordered the immediate closure of the London branch," Jack added. "The few survivors, mostly inexperienced junior members like Ianto himself, couldn't have operated the place on their own – even if they'd want to return there."

"I don't think any of us would," Ianto said quietly.

"But if you were an ongoing scientist, how did you end up as the janitor here?" Gwen asked in her usual tactless manner.

Jack flinched. His own initial reluctance to give Ianto a job, just because the young man had been a Torchwood One employee, was something he did not like to remember. How he had made Ianto beg and refused his request several times. That it had taken a pterodactyl – and involuntary full-body contact – to actually hire Ianto. That in the end he had only hired the young man to have easier access to him eventually.

Ianto gave Gwen one of those blank looks that sometimes made Jack wonder whether the young man really didn't care about the casual insults from the side of his team-mates or was secretly planning his revenge.

"I don't expect you to understand," he replied, "but I did it for Lisa. This was the only way to keep her alive, the only hope to find a method to reverse her partial conversion. I took the job because this was the only one Jack would offer me."

That seemed to surprise Gwen. "But if you used to be a researcher, didn't that mean that you already had the necessary qualifications?"

"Jack doesn't have a high opinion about Torchwood One," Ianto replied simply. "That's why he severed ties with the headquarters ten years ago, when he became head of the Cardiff branch."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You're awfully well-informed about past events," he said. "How have you figured out that?"

"I was well-trained as a researcher by Dr. Howart," Ianto answered. "Torchwood London never recruited staff off the streets."

The addition like you did with Gwen hung unspoken between them for a long moment.

"Do you think the Prime Minister wants to speak you because they're planning to re-open Torchwood One?" Gwen, who – as usual – didn't realize the tension between the two men, asked curiously.

Ianto closed his eyes, fighting the nausea that still threatened to overwhelm him whenever the events of the Battle of Canary Wharf were discussed in any length. He shook his head.

"I seriously doubt it," he said. "Firstly, the spatial breach above London has been sealed, so there's no actual reason to return there. Secondly, as I already said, I don't believe anyone would wish to work there again. I know I wouldn't want to return, and I can't imagine that any of the other survivors would."

"Neither can I," Jack agreed, getting over his mild irritation with Ianto's attitude, because really, what was the boy's problem? "There's another possibility, though: perhaps the Queen attempts to shout down Torchwood entirely, since we've lost half of our staff, too."

"She can't do that… can she?" Gwen asked in shock. "We do important work here, don't we?"

"Sure we do," Ianto replied. "Torchwood Three was specifically founded as a smaller branch of the original Institute to monitor and exploit the Rift. It's all in the history files."

Again, the unspoken suggestion you should do your homework hung between them, but Gwen, as usual, managed not to get it. She really wasn't good at subtlety.

"Nonetheless, the Queen can shut us down," Jack said grimly. "In fact, she's the only one who can. Torchwood has only ever answered to the Crown, since its foundation. If Her Majesty decides that the work we do isn't worth the considerable funds pumped into Torchwood each year, she can shut us down permanently," he looked at Ianto. "So be careful what you tell the Prime Minister. This meeting might be the first step in that direction."

Ianto's face stiffened to an unreadable mask. "I shall endeavour to do my best to protect Torchwood's interests, sir."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Now he's calling me sir again. I still do have a name, you know."

"And I have some packing to do," Ianto replied. "May I have the next two hours off, sir?"

"You're determined to make things difficult for me today, aren't you?" Jack asked, his irritation visible now. "All right, but be here on time. I don't want to discuss your absence with that I.O.A agent – whatever I.O.A might be."

"We should have Tosh search the…" Gwen bit off the end of the sentence. For a moment, she'd almost forgotten that Toshiko was dead.

Jack's face froze in grim lines for a moment. Then he shook his head, as if trying to shake off the grief.

"Go," he said to Ianto. "You don't have much time."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Getting home and packing his suitcase didn't take long. Ianto had lived in a cramped little flat near the Torchwood building ever since he was hired into the Cardiff branch by Jack, several years ago. At first he couldn't afford anything better, as paying Lisa's dividend from the hubs electric bill always used up his last penny. He'd been fortunate that he was the one to deal with the bills to begin with, or else he'd have been found out a lot earlier.

After Lisa had gone, he could have moved into a bigger, nicer apartment, but he saw no reason to do so. He practically lived in the Hub – the only person spending more time there was Jack – and when he finally could drag himself home, all he wanted was a shower and a bed. He had those in his old flat already… and the way to work was blissfully short. He could even walk in within twenty minutes if he had to.

Right now, he took the car, of course, as it would have been unwise to make the mysterious Agent Bates wait. He quickly showered, selected his most conservative suit with a grey shirt, packed another set to change, should it be necessary, some underwear, pyjamas, toiletries and a book he'd wanted to read for quite some time. He aired the flat, then locked it and got back to Roald Dahl Plass just in time to pick up his laptop, just in case.

Exactly two hours after the call from the Prime Minister's office, a nondescript dark car turned into the parking lot of the tourist office, and a handsome black man in his late thirties get out of it. He was wearing a dark grey suit with a blue shirt, but there was something in his stance that gave the impression that he'd be more comfortable wearing a uniform. A lot more.

He must have gotten detailed instructions, because he marched directly into the tourist office, without knocking first. He took in the three people in the office – both Jack and Gwen had wanted to see the man who would take Ianto away to his unusual appointment – and seemed to recognize Ianto at once.

"Mr. Jones?" he asked with an unmistakable American accent. Ianto nodded, and the man extended a hand. "Special Agent Michael Eugene Bates, sir. I was sent to pick you up and take you to the airport. The others are already waiting."

He had a wide, white smile, every bit as big as Jack's or even bigger. It contrasted nicely with his dark skin and made him look younger than he probably was, at least according to his short-cropped, greying hair. There was something haunted in his eyes, though, that made one think that he'd probably greyed prematurely – perhaps due to some traumatic events he had lived through.

Ianto had other problems at the moment than the man's possible past, though. "What others?" he asked, feeling suddenly nervous.

Agent Bates grinned at him. "You didn't think we'd commission a private jet just to get your lone self to the Prime Minister, did you? We'll have quite the illustrious company, you'll see. Now, are you ready to go? You're the only one still missing."

His mannerism, his economic, powerful movements practically screamed military, and Jack, who'd been listening to the conversation quietly, started to become nervous, too. Especially when at hid second, more thorough look he discovered three tiny pieces of dark purple badge neatly pinned to the breast of his jacket: those were the miniaturized badges of the Purple Heart military award. The man obviously wasn't just American military – even if possibly retired by now – he was a war hero, too, and proud of it, if he kept wearing the badges on his civvies… and was allowed to do so. Three Purple Hearts meant having been wounded three times in enemy territory, in the defence of the United States. What was this guy doing with the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom? And, more importantly, what was he doing with Ianto?

Shutting out Gwen's inane babbling with practiced ease – he liked the girl, but sometimes she could be every bit as nerve-wrecking as the Doctor's precious Rose, without the excuse of being barely eighteen. Seriously, a woman of her age, and a married one at that, should be able to show at least partially mature behaviour – Jack strode to the newcomer and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Agent Bates. I'm Captain Jack Harkness, Mr. Jones' boss."

The man gave Jack's greatcoat a fleeting glance while they shook hands. "You seem to be a bit behind the current dress code, Captain," he replied with a faint smile. "About half a century, give or take a decade or too."

"I'm a bit old-fashioned," Jack admitted, "and no longer in active duty anyway. Just like you, I suppose. You were… what? Navy? Air Force?"

Bates shook his head. "Nothing so fancy, sir. Marine corps, actually – your simple, honest, down-to-dirt grunt who sprang out of choppers and shot whom his COs pointed out as the enemy."

"But no longer, right?" Jack asked.

"No," Bates admitted. "A couple of years ago the Marine Corps gave me an honourable discharge due to my injuries, as I wasn't fully fit for armed duty any longer. Afterwards, the I.O.A. contacted me. They were starting up a new field division dealing specifically with operational threats on Earth, and it seemed like a good fit."

"I see," Jack said, although, as much as he hated to admit, the explanation didn't explain a thing for him. "I'm afraid I never heard about an organization named I.O.A. before, though."

"You're not supposed to," Bates replied with a grim smile. "It's confidential information."

"You'd be surprised how much of that kind of stuff is known to us," Jack said, a little arrogantly.

Bates shrugged. "Good luck with trying to figure out more, sir," he replied. "Look, I know who you are; what Torchwood is. I've been debriefed thoroughly before being sent here. And since you are who you are, I'll tell you this much: I.O.A. means International Oversight Agency. It's an organization composing of ranking politicians from the USA, Great Britain, France and China, whose only purpose is to, well, oversee certain top secret projects that are based in the USA. We, mere agents, are just the foot soldiers."

"What kind of projects?" Jack asked quietly.

Bates shrugged again, this time apologetically. "I'm sorry, Captain; I'm not authorized to tell you about it."

"But you know what it is, don't you?" It was not a question. Despite being a 'mere agent', Bates obviously was very well-informed.

Bates nodded. "I used to work for the project for several years… until my discharge."

"And that's where you got your Purple Hearts," Jack said. Again, it was not a question.

"Well, the last one, yeah," Bates replied. "The other two are from my tours in Afghanistan and Iraq."

"And the Prime Minister wants to hire Ianto for that same project?" Jack asked in worry. He hated it when Ianto got in dangerous situations – even if he was there to protect him.

Bates shook his head. "I'm not authorized to speak about that, either. I'm truly sorry, sir."

Jack nodded, not happy with the answer but understanding it. "I'm gonna to the airport with you," he said.

"As you wish, Captain," Bates replied with a shrug. "But that's about as far as I can allow you to come."

"I know," Jack sighed. "It's better than nothing, though."

"I'm coming, too," Gwen declared.

Jack rolled his eyes, registering from the corner of his eyes how Ianto's face was crumpling in barely-hidden disappointment. They'd had virtually no chance to be alone for days, and now this…

"Gwen, it's not necessary…" he began, but she interrupted him, doggedly following her own ideas as always.

"I know. But I want to."

Bates' dark, observant eyes flicked from Ianto's miserable face to Gwen's mulish one… and he seemed to get at least the gist of the not-so-subtle power struggle within their little triangle. He also seemed to have a clear idea whom to side with – and that wasn't Gwen.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I can't allow that," he said. "I'll let the captain come with us, since he's the head of your organization and thus has a right to know where I'm taking one of his men, but that's about as far as I'm willing to go."

"I'm his second-in-command!" Gwen protested, surprising everyone – including Jack – with that declaration. While she'd indeed acted as if she'd been Jack's deputy for months, she'd never been officially assigned as such.

"And I don't care," Bates returned in a less than friendly manner, seeing how Ianto's face was losing all colour within seconds. "You seem to me like someone with a serious lack of proper discipline, and I won't let you anywhere near potentially sensitive information. Good day, Miss."

While Gwen was still gaping in outrage, unable to give any coherent answer, Bates grabbed Ianto's suitcase and stuffed it into the car.

"Please move quickly, Mr. Jones," he said in a crisp military manner. "The plane does have a schedule, you know. Captain, if you want to come with us, take a seat. We have to go."

Jack didn't let him repeat the invitation. I.O.A agent or not, the man had something in him that eerily reminded him of a drill sergeant.

"Gwen, keep an eye on things here," he said over his shoulder while climbing into the car, taking the back seat.

Ianto chose the passenger's seat, as if he wanted to put some distance between the two of them. Jack didn't really mind it, because from that angle he had an excellent view of Ianto's profile: the cute nose, the killer cheekbones, the soft lips, the sideburns, that slight dimple on the chin… oh, yes, it was a very nice view indeed!

Ignoring the still gaping Gwen, Bates took the driver's seat, murmuring something unintelligible about stupid British cars and stupid British traffic rules; then he slammed onto the gas and sped away. From the corner of his eyes, Jack could see Gwen, red-faced with anger, glaring after them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

He wasn't particularly surprised to see that the airport at which they finally arrived was a private one. Somehow it was to be expected that private jets on sensitive missions would start from such place. It was only a small one, with a battered two-story building that served every possible function that might be necessary.

A single jet was parting behind the building on the small runway. It seemed to be an old-fashioned plane, but Jack's experienced eyes found signs that revealed that the looks were deliberately misleading and the jet a modern and probably experimental design. A small one, for twelve passengers, tops. It wore American markings: the signs of the US Air Force.

The pilot, a straw-blond Air Force officer with the rank insignia of a captain and very pale, almost water-blue eyes in his tanned, ruggedly handsome face, greeted Bates with the familiarity of an old friend, making Jack wonder whether they had served together earlier and where that might have happened.

"It's good to see you back in the action, Gene," he said. "It's always something of a relief to see a familiar face. So very few of us from the first days are still around."

"Way too few," Bates agreed, shaking hands with him. "Life seems to be treating you well, sir."

"It does, mostly," the pilot allowed; then he grinned, showing white, even teeth. "You don't have to call me sir anymore, you know."

Bates laughed, that haunted look leaving his eyes for a moment.

"I know that, Captain, but old habits are hard to break," he said; then he looked at Ianto. "Mr. Jones, this is your chauffeur, Captain Charlie Miller. He can fly just about everything; from the Space Shuttle down to Second World War relics. You'll be in good hands."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Jones," the pilot shook hands with Ianto, then he glanced at Bates. "Gene, would you mind getting the rest of the passengers? They've been waiting for hours by now, and are getting a little… frisky."

"Sure, why not?" Bates took Ianto's suitcase from the car and handed it to him. "You can store your gear in the meantime, Mr. Jones."

"You're not coming with us?" Ianto asked.

Bates shook his head. "Not this time; not before things become serious anyway." With that mysterious comment, he walked away in the direction of the waiting room, which, logically was located on the ground floor of the all-purpose-building behind them.

"He's in charge of picking up people here in Cardiff," the pilot – Captain Miller – explained, while showing Ianto where to store his luggage. "When things here are finished, we're all gonna flow back to the States together… with Minnie here," he added, patting the outer hull of the jet lovingly.

Jack looked at him in amusement. "You call your plane Minnie?"

"She's not mine, unfortunately; I wish she were, but I couldn't afford her anyway," Miller answered. "But yeah, I do call her Minnie – after my grandmother, who was also a tough little lady. Seemingly plain but made of steel."

"But considerably older than this design, I suppose," Jack said, amused.

Miller nodded. "Of course. She's a brand new one, used for diplomatic purposes only."

"And for military ones, I assume," Jack commented, but Miller shook his head.

"Nah, she's been specifically designed to transport diplomatic personnel and other VIPs," he said. "She's not armed at all. In case of highly endangered passengers, she gets a military escort, of course, but otherwise…" he shrugged. "She's small, she's sleek and fast and she's a delight to fly. I'm not complaining."

"How comes she's transporting visitors for the Prime Minister, though?" Jack asked. "As far as I can tell, both you and the jet belong to the Air Force... and not to the Royal one."

"It's been a loan," Miller explained. "I've flown a few IOA representatives over from the States and will have to get them back, eventually. In the meantime, they agreed to loan me and Minnie to your Prime Minister, and I really don't mind. I got to see London and Glasgow and Cardiff – all places I've never been before. Hell, I've never been on a trip to Stonehenge, and that is something I'd wanted since the age of ten."

"I would have thought you wanted to become a pilot at the age of ten," Jack teased. "Or a fire-fighter. Most American boys do."

Ianto didn't hear the pilot's answer. His mood was darkening again. He'd enjoyed greatly Agent Bates having put Gwen to her place – something Jack should have done a long time ago but could never quite manage, for some reason – but watching Jack flirt shamelessly with the pilot (who, in all likelihood, didn't even realize that he was having a pass made at him) killed his little feeling of satisfaction.

As much as he knew that this wasn't personal, that it was simply something that Jack did, it wasn't easy for him to watch. He considered their relationship a serious commitment – at least from his end of the connection – and he knew that, in his own way, Jack was faithful. He just flirted with everything on two legs; Ianto was relatively certain that it was all there was. But the knowledge that one day Jack simply would have to move on and leave him behind wasn't easy to bear. And such flirtatious moments brought back that knowledge with brutal force.

And then there was Gwen. Gwen-bloody-Cooper, supposedly happily married to a nice, decent bloke who put up with all her shit with the patience of a saint. Ianto liked Rhys; liked him a lot. It was also for Rhys' sake that Gwen's possessive attitude towards Jack bothered him so much.

She seemed to have some kind of delusion about being Jack's soul-mate; the only person who'd truly understand Jack. She apparently believed that Jack had romantic feelings for her and only refrained from acting on those feelings because she was married. As if what Jack and Ianto had would be nothing but recreational activity for the object of her obsession.

The truly sad thing was that – in a manner of speaking – she was almost right. For Jack, every relationship with anyone on this planet, from any particular time, was a fleeting one. It couldn't be anything else. People around him, even his lovers, grew old and died. Like Estelle had. Like Ianto would. Like he would not.

It was that simple. It was what gave their happiest, most intense moments a bittersweet tingle. There was no way around it, and sometimes it broke Ianto's heart, but he'd come to accept it. Mostly.

On the other hand, within these limitations, Jack was faithful to his part-time lovers. He didn't cheat on them, and if Gwen chose not to see that, it was her problem. Or so Ianto hoped. He did trust Jack, they'd gone through too much not to do so. But he also knew how determined Gwen could be to get what she wanted. And she did want Jack very much. That had been obvious since the first day she'd set foot into Torchwood.

Sometimes Ianto wasn't sure whether he should feel sorry for Rhys… or for himself.

Someone touched his arm, and a delighted female voice shook him out of his brooding mood. "Ianto Jones! Now that's a surprise! I didn't know you were invited to this little excursion, too."

Slender but deceivingly strong arms wrapped themselves around him, the warm body of a woman pressed against his in all the right places – he was committed to Jack now, granted, but that didn't mean he'd turned to wood for any other stimuli – and a familiar scent filled his nostrils, sweet and spicy and uniquely…

"Martha!" he replied happily, hugging back the dark-skinned beauty with all his might. He didn't need to hold back; Dr. Jones only looked fragile. "It's good to see you again. What are you doing here?"

Martha kissed him on the cheek and laughed. "Same thing as you, I assume. Prime Minister Jones has asked me for a personal meeting, and who am I to say no?"

Jack looked from Martha to Ianto and back in suspicion. "Is this some great conspiracy of Joneses to take over the world?" he asked, obviously still royally pissed that he'd not been informed in advance.

Ianto gave him a bland smile. "If it is, I haven't been sent the bulletin yet, sir," he replied.

Martha laughed and kissed Jack on the face, too. "It's good to see you again, Jack. I wish it were under different circumstances, but…" They both shrugged. Survivors of the end of the world rarely had the chance to choose their working environment.

"Do you know what this is all about?" Jack asked. "Is U.N.I.T involved somehow? What do they possibly want from Ianto?"

"I'm not sure," Martha admitted. "I do have an idea, but… Look, I'll tell you when it's been confirmed. Or Ianto will. Assuming we're allowed to do so."

Jack nodded. He knew how these things worked. As the de facto leader of Torchwood, he was privy to more top secret intel than any other man on the planet, but not even he was automatically allowed to know everything. And as much as he hated not to know what he was sending Ianto into, there was precious little he could do about it.

"Take care," he said, escorting Martha to the plane. Then he turned Ianto and kissed him unhurriedly, not caring about the audience. "You too. I want you back in the Hub as soon as possible."

Ianto licked his lips, as if enjoying the aftertaste of their very public, very passionate kiss.

"I shall endeavour to pick up my duties at the earliest possible time, sir," he replied, and boarded the plane.

Jack watched the takeoff of the jet with an unexplainable flat feeling in his gut. He didn't know why, but this whole affair filled him with unease.

~TBC~