Turn and Face The Strange

Summary: AU inspired by Life on Mars. In the midst of a seemingly unsolvable disappearances case, DI Ianto Jones becomes a victim himself. Thrown back in time, his priorities swiftly turn towards his secretive new colleagues, and what they are hiding from him.

Rating: M

Genre: Drama/Sci-Fi

Warnings: Swearing, violence, sex later in the story.

Disclaimer: Both Torchwood and Life on Mars are owned by the BBC. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: I'm back! And I have in tow the beginnings of a new AU inspired by the brilliant Life on Mars. Unlike my previous AU, it promises to be far more heavily based around the Torchwood world we know and love, with various twists along the way. I'm also currently working on the first sequel of Jones and Harkness for my Wodewood Universe, and plan to publish it soon. As with Jones and Harkness, I'll be updating Turn and Face The Strange every Sunday.

Special thanks to the awesome riftintime, who has been offering absolutely invaluable feedback and advice for this story.

Chapter One

Henry Parker loathed the winter. He tugged his worn grey pea coat more tightly around himself, checking his watch once again as he bustled into the overblown, overpriced electronics shop his damned spoilt brat of a grandson had insisted he receive his birthday present from. He desired some ridiculous novelty telephone, the likes of which Henry himself simply had no time for, but if all his extended family requested from him was a couple of grand a year spent on silly toys, he wasn't going to complain. Not if the other option was actually having to endure their company.

He didn't give a lot of thought to the strain on his debit card as the primped and preened sale assistant plucked it delicately between finger and thumb, while another lovingly gift-wrapped the parcel. He was an old man with too much cash, and he didn't care what his privacy cost.

"Would you like to include a note, sir?" the girl with the bright smile and twinkling green eyes asked him. He envied her aura of youth and vitality, temporarily distracted before he replied with a gruff "no". Snatching up the paper bag and his card, he left the shop as quickly as his arthritic knees would carry him, and didn't breathe again until he was out in the chill air.

"Just you wait a few years, my girl – that pretty smile won't last" he grumbled to himself, juggling with his cargo to retrieve a small brown pill bottle from his inner coat pocket. With slightly shaking hands he tapped out two tablets and prepared to swallow them dry.

Moments later, they lay scattered on the damp ground next to the abandoned shopping bag, and Henry Parker was gone.

"So, this is the latest one?"

"Yep. Take a look."

Detective Inspector Ianto Jones sighed and scratched absently behind his ear, peering at the sheet of paper in his hand and finding the words temporarily blurred, so stark was the thick black font against bright white. He was momentarily irritated by the fact that somebody had gone to the trouble to print this out on Metropolitan Police Service headed paper – including the slightly pretentious Borough of Bexley subtitle – when he'd asked for the report half an hour ago, but not as irritated as he was by the vagueness of what was upon it. He read the information aloud:

"Henry Parker, sixty-nine years old, retired race horse breeder and trainer. Born in Coventry, settled in South Norwood four years ago with a pair of schnoodles. Partner deceased, son and grandson borderline estranged. CCTV confirms disappearance from Bang & Olufsen of South Colonnade, Canary Wharf, 19:52 last night. Right... no witnesses?"

"'Fraid not. None that'll admit they saw a bloke disappear into thin air, anyway... and what the hell is a schnoodle?"

"Miniature schnauzer crossed with a miniature poodle."

"Oh."

"Rupesh, this tells us approximately sod all about the man."

"It's all we could find! He didn't exactly leave much of an impression on the world..."

Ianto growled through his teeth and slumped back heavily, aware with a slight hint of subversive pleasure that he was crumpling the blazer he had shed over an hour ago. His crisp, diagonally striped tie felt suffocating and his spine ached, but every time a new case following this same pattern occurred, he became increasingly anxious to understand the circumstances. Nearly five months since the first disappearance, they were no closer to unearthing even the most tenuous of clues.

"They're becoming more regular" he muttered, flipping open a manilla file to flick through the other victims of case #456. "Hall, Taufeeq, Spears, Green – all of them a month or more apart. Alice Devlin disappeared only a fortnight after Green, then Alex Hopkins eight days later... four more, and now Parker. All of them gone from within Canary Wharf, or so we think."

"Have we recovered the CCTV for Hall and Spears yet?" Rupesh asked, idly unwrapping a mint and tossing it into his mouth. Ianto watched as the young sergeant opposite him proceeded to shred the remaining paper square with his fingertips, and knew that he himself was guilty of suffering from the same nervous energy ever since this case began. That itching urge to do something, but not being sure exactly what. He had never felt so professionally impotent.

"No, but they're still being treated as part of this particular case thanks to the similar circumstances" Ianto replied. "Close living and working proximity to Canary Wharf, families left with absolutely no idea where they could have gone, no criminal convictions or tendencies, and disappearances fitting the time frame."

"Hmm. What's Hartman's stance these days?"

Ianto felt himself visibly bristle at the very name of their Detective Chief Inspector, glancing at Rupesh with his most scathing stare.

"Terrorists" he hissed with a dramatic flourish.

"Oh, what a surprise" Rupesh said, slumping in his chair with a sour expression on his face. "When is it not terrorists in her tiny mind?"

"Once an egotistical scaremonger..." Ianto commented, almost smirking when Rupesh furtively scanned the surrounding area for any trace of the woman in question.

"Anyway" he continued, "the CCTV we do have is still being examined for foul play. Those cameras only take one still every six seconds, and just before each time of disappearance, there's a shapeless glow on the image. It's gone as soon as the victim is."

"A lot can happen in six seconds" Rupesh mused, loudly crunching the remains of his sweet. "Any ideas about who could control CCTV remotely?"

Ianto shook his head, closing the file once more and pinching the bridge of his slender nose. Rupesh leaned further across Ianto's desk and yawned, running a hand through his thick black hair and pouting thoughtfully at the closed file.

"What about... I don't know, human traffickers? Maybe the flash is headlights or something? And they have some way of pausing the cameras, keeping them that way and... or... "

Rupesh was clutching at straws and Ianto could see that he knew it. His colleague had his shoulders hunched as if embarrassed by the very words which were escaping his lips, but Ianto had to give him silent kudos for trying.

"I'm beginning to think this is just way over our heads" he replied, his troubled sky-blue eyes sliding to the nearest window. It was pitch black outside but the lights of London twinkled below his office, almost taunting him. Though he had to unwillingly admit that the place had never felt like home in the way that the overcast expanse of Wales used to, it tempted him now as an escape from a case which was swiftly taking over his life. "We're going to be public enemy number one until we can work something out, but we keep ending up back at square one."

"The end is where we start from" Rupesh said quietly, repeating a sentence that had become something of a motto for Ianto and his team. Ianto could only nod tiredly, roughly scrubbing at his face with both hands. He caught sight of himself in the reflection of his blank and darkened computer screen, and noted with a grimace that the cheap fluorescent bulbs above only accentuated the greyish smudges beneath his eyes and the recent sharpening of his already pronounced cheekbones. He knew he wasn't looking after himself as well as he should; perhaps that in itself was hindering him in making any kind of dent in this damned case.

"Have you actually slept this week, Ianto?" Rupesh asked him, his deep brown gaze laced with concern for his immediate superior. Ianto huffed out a weak laugh, touched by the sentiment whilst knowing that his insomnia would continue until they stumbled upon some kind of lead.

"You sound like Lisa" he sighed, shoving several pens back into his stationary tower.

"Yeah, well, she's worried about you too" Rupesh pointed out, folding his arms defiantly. "Having you both working on the same case... it must be impossible not to take this shit home."

Ianto nodded, unable to deny it. Lisa Hallett was his girlfriend of five years, and a uniformed Inspector working for the same station. It wouldn't be the first time one or both of them had taken the bad times into their own private space, but the impossibility of this particular case was getting to everybody in a new way. Lisa's rank allowed (and required) her to delegate work to the constables and sergeants beneath her, but being as wilfully tenacious as she was, she still maintained a firm grip on many of the trickier cases. Not much was trickier than completely unexplainable disappearances with no pattern in age, sex, ethnicity, or profession; only location. There was nobody to chase, no clues to follow – nothing.

With Lisa out in the field and Ianto at the station digging deep into his criminal investigation training, they didn't cross each other too often at work. But when they both arrived home, they may as well have still been there, because it was all there seemed to be, lately. The job was taking them away from themselves and not leaving many crumbs to savour at the end of the day. They now had so much in common, there was nothing left to talk about.

Deciding with a burst of resistance that he wasn't going to let case #456 or anything else put a distance between himself and his partner, Ianto swiftly pushed himself out of his seat and stretched, moaning when something clicked satisfyingly in his back.

"Off home? It's early for you!" a startled-looking Rupesh said, tentatively getting up and reaching for his own coat. Ianto took a look at his watch – almost eight in the evening – and shrugged on his slightly rumpled jacket.

"I'm feeling the need to remind myself that I have a life outside of this building" he replied, amused to see Rupesh grin with relief.

"Dirty stop-out" he commented, throwing the DI a wink. Ianto chuckled, perhaps for the first time all day, and immediately felt lighter for it.

Sergeant Patanjali made swift his departure with a cheerful wave, leaving Ianto to switch off the lights and stride down towards the exit of the station as he slipped his mobile phone into his trouser pocket. His thoughts turned to Lisa – beautiful Lisa – knowing she would be home by now. He needed to lose himself in her, remember what he fought for every day, and forget about case #456 just for one single night.

Tonight is just about us, he told himself. I won't let it drift.