Almost Perfect Part 2

'No scorch marks,' said Gwen.

Jack shrugged. 'Not that unusual. Those are secondary explosions from the inside out.' He squinted. 'Yup. Good news. Definitely not claw marks.'

'You just don't want the paperwork,' teased Gwen.

They watched the ferry b.u.mp unsteadily into port.

'I don't want any of this,' he told her. 'Aliens are the new Health and Safety Nightmare. There are people in high places who are desperate to blame a Rift-related cause for this. It's more likely the boat just hit something a World War Two mine's a World War Two mine you didn't see coming, whether or not it's drifted through the Rift. I don't like being scapegoated every time something goes wrong.'

'Aliens ate my homework?' Gwen laughed.

Jack laughed. 'What a brave new world. Now go and find some eyewitnesses to talk to.'

'What about Iantoya?' asked Gwen. 'Sure we don't need him?'

'Oh, he's best off at the Hub. Until he feels... you know... himself.'

'Jack Harkness, you are terrible. The poor lamb's got nothing to look forward to apart from filing, making the coffee and s.e.xual hara.s.sment.'

'I know,' said Jack. 'I just want to surround him with familiar things.'

DORICE IS HER USUAL RED.

Ianto had a quiet first morning as a woman. There was very little Rift activity, and only a few elderly tourists popped into the Tourist Information Centre that he manned above Torchwood. And then there was Dorice from the Shopping Centre, who dropped in with leaflets once a month. Dorice was, mostly in her own opinion, a right laugh. There was something about her that was a bit too red. He was never quite sure if it was her hair, her dress, her make-up or her nails, but the woman glowed.

He was surprised that he still couldn't work it out. He'd kind of hoped that, now he was a proper woman, he'd have some kind of X-Ray Fashion Vision that would allow him to solve the mystery of Dorice's redness. But no. There she was, leaving a huge lipstick mark on a cup of his excellent coffee, talking away, all hair and noise and redness. And still just as puzzlingly red. She was just a vaguely unattractive, slightly untidy, mildly overweight woman in her late forties.

But Dorice had talked, on and on, loudly and excitedly about developments and redevelopments in the Bay. Most of her talk was about the ferry crash, 'which is a shame, as I hope it catches on. I was dead excited at a trip to Minehead. Fancy that me and Harry taking a mucky break to Butlin's. You know they've got their very own version of the Millennium Dome? Isn't that nice, especially as I never got to make it to the proper one. Did you dear?'

Oddly enough, Ianto had. One of his very first jobs at Torchwood had been at the Dome. To this day, whenever he saw a picture of it, he'd remember what was sealed underneath it, and shudder.

And now suddenly Dorice was at the door, and smiling. 'You do look lovely, dear. How long is my little bit of crumpet on holiday?'

'I'm sorry?'

'The nice lad they normally have running this place. Flirts like crazy, never serious though. You know the type. He's a very neat young boy. His hair is very carefully arranged.' She put the last two words in italics.

'Oh.' Ianto felt vaguely insulted. 'Not long, I hope. I'm just a temp.'

Dorice gave him a pitying look. 'Oh, I'm sorry to hear it, dear. Still, with that pair, I'm sure you'll go far.'

And then the door shut with a tinkle, and Ianto checked his watch. He realised for the first time how wrong it looked a bulky man's watch around his tiny wrist. He was going to have to do something about it. Probably involving shopping. And Gwen. Hmm. She'd been a bit odd today slightly like a cat defending her territory. Hmm. She'd not been like this around Tosh.

The thing was, Owen and Tosh would have been really handy right now. He'd admired Tosh she was the only person in Torchwood who loved the place as much as he did. Something Ianto could only respect. She was quiet, polite, and thoughtful. Owen was just well, he could be as nasty and bullying as he could be brilliant and charming. Even in those last months, when he'd hung around, all wrong and broken. Between them, they would know what to do.

He realised, with a certain dread, that he needed to pee again. That was a horror show he still hadn't got used to. And these shoes were starting to hurt. Really hurt. He'd barely noticed them when he'd slipped them on this morning, but now it was like wearing a small pair of stilts made out of rusty chisels. Unsteadily, he hobbled off to the loo.

When he got back, Jack was there, leaning over his desk with a big grin that didn't quite meet his eyes.

He reached in the pockets of his greatcoat, and brought out two bottles of beer. 'I think we should drink to your first day.'

Ianto took them, and snapped them expertly open on the edge of the desk, pa.s.sing one to Jack. They clinked bottles. Jack wiped it against his sleeve before drinking. 'I got them from Owen's medical fridge. He never got round to drinking them, and never got round to throwing them away. But I'd give it a wipe first one of the livers is leaking.'

Ianto shuddered, and suddenly realised he no longer had sleeves. What was he supposed to do? He made a mental note to buy some tissues. One of those neat little packets. In the meantime, he made do with a leaflet about the new ferry service.

Jack leaned forward over the desk, as relaxed as a cat. 'Miss Ianto Jones! As your manager, I'm here to ask how your first day in your new body is going.'

'Fine, thank you,' said Ianto, not quite meeting his eyes.

'Settling in? No unexpected... wrinkles?'

Ianto shrugged. 'It's... strange. Actually, being a woman is a lot like being a man. Just unsettling. I'm like... You know when your mobile breaks and they give you a replacement that looks OK but isn't quite right? I'm that wrong phone.'

Jack placed a hand on Ianto's, and Ianto suddenly realised how small his hands were now. Jack's touch felt suddenly strange, and he drew back a little.

'Ianto Jones, I wouldn't know. Whenever my mobile breaks, you always get me a replacement that's exactly the same. That's what I love about you.'

'Yes, because you can't stand change. And don't use that word.' Ianto looked away. Jack had put the tiniest pause around the word 'love'. Beneath all that casual Jackness, he was trying to talk about feelings. Ianto had long suspected that Jack didn't really have feelings just a succession of sugar rushes.

'OK. I just want you to know that this doesn't change things. I know you're still in there. We'll get you out.'

'Good.'

'And if you want to... after work...' A raised eyebrow and the Harkness grin.

'Oh G.o.d, no!' Ianto stepped back, aghast. 'No. Oh no! Not yet.'

'I'll take that as a maybe,' said Jack, unabashed. 'Look, we'll get you your body back. I've fired off a few emails to UNIT. Martha's on the case. And Gwen's been going through the archives. You're not unique Torchwood's dealt with this kind of thing before. There's a protocol, some forms, even a pamphlet. The main thing is to try and find out if this is your body that's been altered somehow... or if there's been a body swap.'

'I had been wondering,' said Ianto. 'What if my body's still out there with this poor woman's mind in it?'

'Yeah Gwen's set up a sweep on any CCTV in case your body turns up. Don't worry it's all in hand. Just get on with living.'

'That's easy for you to say.'

Jack pulled a face. 'Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn't.'

Ianto swigged down the rest of the beer and belched. Jack laughed. 'Oh, if I'd ever doubted it was you...'

'But you don't, do you?' Ianto wanted to know. Partly because Jack's trust was important to him, and partly because he didn't want to wake up in a cell.

Again, the rea.s.suring touch, the smile, but the strange look in Jack's eyes. 'No. I miss the old you but I'll have to get used to the new one.'

There was a silence between them. An awkward one. Ianto put his bottle neatly in the recycling.

Jack clapped his hands and put on some fresh cheer. 'What say we go out tonight? There's a town out there just waiting to be painted red.'

Ianto shook his head and swung off the desk. 'Not tonight. I know you'll laugh, but I've got a sudden urge to go home, run a bath and light a lot of candles.' Truly, I just don't want to be around you.

Jack held his glance. He knows I'm lying, thought Ianto. But he nodded, just slightly.

At just the right moment, Gwen came in. 'Jack! Andy's been on the phone. Says there's a body in a restaurant that's right up your street.'

'A body, eh?' Impressed, Jack swung his legs off the desk and bounded into action. 'Your police friend's really getting to know my tastes. Sometimes, I don't know whether to jump him or wipe his memory.'

'Both,' whispered Gwen to Ianto.

Jack clapped his hands together. 'Let's head out. Ianto you up for a body?'

Ianto considered. 'OK. But first I've got to pee again.'

PAMELA'S SUDDENLY SHORTER

Torchwood operative instructions for When You Discover You're Not Who You Thought You Were.

(Last revised 1958)

There are five cla.s.sic stages to body dislocation and misplacement.

STAGE I: Disbelief, fear and horror Relax, this is the worst bit. Especially if your consciousness has been transplanted into a non-terrestrial organism, potentially with a superfluity of limbs. The good news is, if you're reading this, you're over the worst of it if your mind couldn't cope with the alien signal inputs, then it'd all be over by now. Instead, don't worry.

You're going to be fine.

From the Torchwood Archives

GWEN IS WEARING CORPSE.

The skeleton sat looking out over Cardiff Bay, its hand resting on a gla.s.s of champagne which was still fizzing slightly.

'Oh yes, definitely one for us,' Jack was a.s.suring the restaurant's owner. Gwen was dividing her attention between the corpse and Ianto.

She was just about used to Ianto being a woman. Well, more or less. The weird thing was it was exactly, completely Ianto. Self-deprecating, quietly ironic, bashful. Only in the body of a woman who looked like she'd stepped from the set of Hotel Babylon.

Ianto was standing, staring at the body, completely entranced. His head was on one side, his mouth slack with unbecoming surprise. 'Um,' Ianto said, using lips that had clearly never said anything uncertain before in their lives. 'This is quite a new thing.' He bent over the table to examine something.

Gwen caught the manager checking out Ianto's magnificent a.r.s.e. Ah well, she thought. And she'd got used to being the pretty one. Poor Ianto she wondered if he realised the effect he was having on men. Knowing him, probably not. But Gwen was going to have to have a little word about posture. He still moved like a Valleys Boy in a new suit, stiff, slightly afraid, and ever so slightly ungainly. Plus he kept sticking his a.r.s.e in the air like a duck bobbing for food. It was like presenting a target to the entire restaurant staff. Still, Gwen guessed it distracted everyone, just slightly, from the enormous lump of skeleton sat at the table.

She wondered how Jack was feeling about Ianto. Was he being all sympathetic and reasonable, or just leaping on the poor lamb? She glanced briefly at Jack. He was watching Ianto and grinning. This was just one long s.e.xy party for Jack, she decided.

Gwen went over to the counter where they kept the CCTV and started spooling through it. She'd called Rhys on the way to the restaurant, and tried explaining it all to him, but she'd got no further than 'Ianto's now a woman. Ianto. The quiet man who makes the coffee. No. Not in that sense. He's not a trans-anything. He just came into work this morning as a woman. Yes. No! Of course I haven't checked! No, Rhys, it's a completely different body. I absolutely a.s.sure you he's not tucked it up. Well, I guess so. Look- No, look, the point is that he's gorgeous and I- Shut up. Listen- Well, yes I know about your Canadian cousin. It's not like that at all.'

The CCTV bore out the manager's story in time-lapse. Crowded lunchtime in a Cardiff restaurant. Lots of business. Only a few empty tables. People came and went. 3pm: the restaurant started tidying up after lunch. 3.17pm: between one frame and the next, the skeleton appeared. 3.18pm: one of the waiters noticed, and the screaming begins.

Gwen pocketed the disc and went over to the table.

Jack was looking at the skeleton, and standing closer to Ianto than he'd ever stood before. He smiled at Gwen briefly, and then looked back at the corpse. 'It's a young skeleton,' he said.

'How can you tell?' asked Ianto. Gwen suddenly realised that he really, really missed having pockets. His hands were patting the top of his skirt nervously. It wasn't an attractive look.

'Calcium deposits?' put in Gwen.

Jack shook his head and pointed to the body. 'It's the clothes they're very new, they're trendy without being expensive. We can bother with the scanners in a bit, but I'm going to bet this was a young man.'

'Out on a date,' Gwen put in. 'The table's set for two, and he's wearing his finest pulling gear. White shirt for clubbing, stripy shirt for a date. Those are the rules.'

'Oh those rules,' sighed Jack. 'What did the CCTV tell us?'

'Middle of the afternoon. Blink and he's there. But the look of the table suggests he's been there hours.'

Ianto checked a clipboard, happily. 'Table's got a good view.'

Jack nodded. 'See if he's got a wallet or a phone would you, Gwen?'

Gwen bent over and started rifling through the pockets, Ianto had spotted something. 'There's lipstick on this coffee cup!' observed Ianto.

'Excellent work, Ms Jones,' said Jack.

Gwen sighed, and tried to feel inside the jacket without touching the ribcage or retching. She managed to undo one of the b.u.t.tons and was just edging her hand in when the body moved slightly and oh G.o.d she touched it, then jerked back as the body moved. It fell forward and just hit the table and carried on going, and she yelled and shut her eyes.

When she opened them again, she was covered in dust. There was no sign of the skeleton, just a pile of clothes. She gagged.

'I just touched it and...'

Ianto shook his gorgeous head disapprovingly, and bent over the body. 'Well, here's the mobile,' he said.