Fic: Reshuffle. Torchwood Gen, Ianto, Owen
Aug. 1st, 2007 04:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethTorchwood
Fic: Reshuffle
Gen, Owen & Ianto
Rating: 12 for swearing?
Spoilers: Torchwood first season
Summary: Somebody had to take over
Unbetaed, feel free to crit in comments.
Owen poked a few more keys and swore again.
Ianto touched his headset and said, “Still nothing Tosh… Have you tried the tertiary relays?”
Owen tuned him out and left them to it. Nothing he could do without computers, nothing he could do about computers, ergo nothing to do. For the first time in how many days? So he just took the moment, dropped his head in his hands and breathed in the dark for a while.
There was a hum of renewed technology and some familiar bleeps.
“That’s it, Tosh, it’s rebooting now.” Ianto leaned past him to hit some keys at his station, then moved along to the next computer to work the same magic.
And lo and behold, Owen’s work once more appeared.
He sighed, and pulled his chair up. Email overflowing, half finished reports on the rift casualties which may or may not have saved, desktop the usual swirling mess… He picked a file pretty much at random and waited for it to load.
Then a big red box got in the way. Owen swore and yelled, “Ianto!” And then he read what it actually said.
Location: Captain Jack Harkness?
Ianto looked over his shoulder, then swore too.
“It’s been a week and he hasn’t signed in. The system must know.”
The cursor blinked at them. Owen blinked right back at it.
Ianto looked into Jack’s office and checked the computer there. “They’re all asking it now.”
“Try his password, see if that gets rid of it.” Owen when to type, but Ianto stopped him.
“No, wait! He changed it. I mean, he must have, after what we used it for.”
“Fuck. Right. Plus if it asks for a retina scan…”
“If the computer decides there’s a hostile incursion, someone faking our codes…”
“We won’t get out of here. Right. So…”
Location: Captain Jack Harkness?
MISSING.
He hit enter and held his breath.
All the screens went blank, and the base lighting flickered to emergency mode.
“Tosh, get up here!” Ianto yelled into the headset. “Tosh? Comms are out!”
Owen hit keys furiously, ran into Jack’s office and tried it there, until to his great relief he got a login box. Owen Harper, password names for parts he wasn’t likely to forget, and a long string of numbers he could never remember. He kept that on his contacts list under TWP. Finally, thankfully, the computer let him in, and a couple of commands later the lights came up too.
Just outside, Ianto got in to Owen’s workstation, without recourse to mobile phone.
“Is it working?”
“Recognises me at least… Yes, everything working normally now.”
“Well mine isn’t. What is all this?” He waved at his screen, full of more open files and colorful displays than he’d ever seen at once. He didn’t even recognize the headings.
Ianto came in, and when he saw it all his face fell. Just for a moment, he looked like it actually hurt. Then the usual open mouthed blank was back.
“That’s the command system. Jack’s startup screens. All the data the head of Torchwood needs.”
“On my login?” Owen turned and stared at it a moment. “Fuck.” He swore very quietly, but very, very sincerely. He found a mouse and started poking around in it. “So… what, all this is…” He trailed off and tried reading some headers.
“Probabilistic analyses of incoming data, evaluating variations in normal background phenomena, with comparisons to daily forecasts and year on year precedents. Also regular monitoring reports, keyword searches, any new records on old but unclosed files…”
“Charts, graphs, and the kitchen sink.” Owen interrupted. “Right. So. Little bit of everything, then.”
“Jack’s job to watch everything. He liked the data stream as raw as possible, so I send it on unprocessed before I write the actual reports. I can close half these for you if you’d rather wait.” Ianto leaned in and started flicking through files, closing some and relegating others to the background.
“Hold on, you send it?”
“My job, Owen. Amongst other things, intelligence analysis.”
“Intelligence?” Owen scoffed. “Archives. That’s, like, filing.”
“Yes, Owen.” Ianto said with ladled on patience. “That’s why it requires a masters in Information Science and three years experience.”
Owen stared at him.
Ianto finished with the screen and looked back. “What, did you think people just happen to phone me with exactly the data you need?”
Owen shrugged. He looked back at the screen, still densely packed with graphs, most of which were pulsing in odd and ominous ways.
Ianto looked at him looking, then sighed. “It’s colour coded.”
That helped. If he knew what the colours were. He leaned in closer to find the key.
“Red is bad.” Ianto provided helpfully.
Owen half heartedly glared at him. “Teaboy. Go get us some coffee, will you?”
Ianto moved away without complaint.
“Did that take a degree too?” Owen yelled after him.
“Three years at university!” Ianto called back.
Owen snorted, then started flicking through all the new data. He was a bloody doctor, he knew charts, he could figure this out.
Then the phone rang. Not the regular phone; the special one. The one with the line to their actual, ultimate boss. Owen stopped and stared at it a long moment.
Ianto came back in, found him there. “I’ll answer it, shall I?” he asked, almost gently. Then he went and picked it up. “Torchwood. Yes. Yes, that’s right. Automatic notification? Of course. I can answer any…” A slight gulp. “Your Majesty. No, I’m not… I’ll get him now.” Ianto turned and held the phone out to him.
Owen looked at it as if it were a snake. Then, reluctantly, he reached forward. “Hello? Yeah… Yes, I’m his… interim replacement… I hope he’s back soon, too, ma’am.” Right from the bottom of his heart – or at least the pit of his stomach, currently churning – he hoped he’d be back right now.
Ianto, the bastard, bit his lip and sloped out the office.
His return some time later with coffee did not make up for it. Owen was still on the phone. Every time he put it down there was someone else waiting. This time he decided they could wait some more. He grabbed the coffee and gulped half of it.
The phone kept ringing.
“Should I…?”
“Just… leave them to it, a minute. I’ve talked to UNIT, I’ve talked to No. 10, I’ve talked to the bloody Queen already. Whoever it is, they’re not that important.” Owen drank more coffee. Ianto must have made it Jack strength, it was making him twitchy nervous, even if it did taste right. “Why do they need to know anyway? Since when do we answer to anyone? Torchwood is here. Still. They can just get over it.”
“But Jack isn’t.”
“I know.” Owen bit off some choicer words. He took a deep breath, finished his drink. Wished it were something a bit stronger. But the phone kept ringing. “First priority, right? Find Jack. Then… all that lot.” Owen waved at the screen behind him.
“You know ‘all that lot’ could help find him,” Ianto pointed out.
“So use it. Go on, make yourself useful. Turn it into… English.” Owen gestured vaguely, then pulled his… Jack’s chair up to Jack’s desk and grabbed the phone again.
“I’ll make a list, shall I? Nice little bullet points?”
Owen glared, Ianto… didn’t noticeably smirk, but you just knew he was on the inside, and then they turned back to their work again.
Fic: Reshuffle
Gen, Owen & Ianto
Rating: 12 for swearing?
Spoilers: Torchwood first season
Summary: Somebody had to take over
Unbetaed, feel free to crit in comments.
Owen poked a few more keys and swore again.
Ianto touched his headset and said, “Still nothing Tosh… Have you tried the tertiary relays?”
Owen tuned him out and left them to it. Nothing he could do without computers, nothing he could do about computers, ergo nothing to do. For the first time in how many days? So he just took the moment, dropped his head in his hands and breathed in the dark for a while.
There was a hum of renewed technology and some familiar bleeps.
“That’s it, Tosh, it’s rebooting now.” Ianto leaned past him to hit some keys at his station, then moved along to the next computer to work the same magic.
And lo and behold, Owen’s work once more appeared.
He sighed, and pulled his chair up. Email overflowing, half finished reports on the rift casualties which may or may not have saved, desktop the usual swirling mess… He picked a file pretty much at random and waited for it to load.
Then a big red box got in the way. Owen swore and yelled, “Ianto!” And then he read what it actually said.
Location: Captain Jack Harkness?
Ianto looked over his shoulder, then swore too.
“It’s been a week and he hasn’t signed in. The system must know.”
The cursor blinked at them. Owen blinked right back at it.
Ianto looked into Jack’s office and checked the computer there. “They’re all asking it now.”
“Try his password, see if that gets rid of it.” Owen when to type, but Ianto stopped him.
“No, wait! He changed it. I mean, he must have, after what we used it for.”
“Fuck. Right. Plus if it asks for a retina scan…”
“If the computer decides there’s a hostile incursion, someone faking our codes…”
“We won’t get out of here. Right. So…”
Location: Captain Jack Harkness?
MISSING.
He hit enter and held his breath.
All the screens went blank, and the base lighting flickered to emergency mode.
“Tosh, get up here!” Ianto yelled into the headset. “Tosh? Comms are out!”
Owen hit keys furiously, ran into Jack’s office and tried it there, until to his great relief he got a login box. Owen Harper, password names for parts he wasn’t likely to forget, and a long string of numbers he could never remember. He kept that on his contacts list under TWP. Finally, thankfully, the computer let him in, and a couple of commands later the lights came up too.
Just outside, Ianto got in to Owen’s workstation, without recourse to mobile phone.
“Is it working?”
“Recognises me at least… Yes, everything working normally now.”
“Well mine isn’t. What is all this?” He waved at his screen, full of more open files and colorful displays than he’d ever seen at once. He didn’t even recognize the headings.
Ianto came in, and when he saw it all his face fell. Just for a moment, he looked like it actually hurt. Then the usual open mouthed blank was back.
“That’s the command system. Jack’s startup screens. All the data the head of Torchwood needs.”
“On my login?” Owen turned and stared at it a moment. “Fuck.” He swore very quietly, but very, very sincerely. He found a mouse and started poking around in it. “So… what, all this is…” He trailed off and tried reading some headers.
“Probabilistic analyses of incoming data, evaluating variations in normal background phenomena, with comparisons to daily forecasts and year on year precedents. Also regular monitoring reports, keyword searches, any new records on old but unclosed files…”
“Charts, graphs, and the kitchen sink.” Owen interrupted. “Right. So. Little bit of everything, then.”
“Jack’s job to watch everything. He liked the data stream as raw as possible, so I send it on unprocessed before I write the actual reports. I can close half these for you if you’d rather wait.” Ianto leaned in and started flicking through files, closing some and relegating others to the background.
“Hold on, you send it?”
“My job, Owen. Amongst other things, intelligence analysis.”
“Intelligence?” Owen scoffed. “Archives. That’s, like, filing.”
“Yes, Owen.” Ianto said with ladled on patience. “That’s why it requires a masters in Information Science and three years experience.”
Owen stared at him.
Ianto finished with the screen and looked back. “What, did you think people just happen to phone me with exactly the data you need?”
Owen shrugged. He looked back at the screen, still densely packed with graphs, most of which were pulsing in odd and ominous ways.
Ianto looked at him looking, then sighed. “It’s colour coded.”
That helped. If he knew what the colours were. He leaned in closer to find the key.
“Red is bad.” Ianto provided helpfully.
Owen half heartedly glared at him. “Teaboy. Go get us some coffee, will you?”
Ianto moved away without complaint.
“Did that take a degree too?” Owen yelled after him.
“Three years at university!” Ianto called back.
Owen snorted, then started flicking through all the new data. He was a bloody doctor, he knew charts, he could figure this out.
Then the phone rang. Not the regular phone; the special one. The one with the line to their actual, ultimate boss. Owen stopped and stared at it a long moment.
Ianto came back in, found him there. “I’ll answer it, shall I?” he asked, almost gently. Then he went and picked it up. “Torchwood. Yes. Yes, that’s right. Automatic notification? Of course. I can answer any…” A slight gulp. “Your Majesty. No, I’m not… I’ll get him now.” Ianto turned and held the phone out to him.
Owen looked at it as if it were a snake. Then, reluctantly, he reached forward. “Hello? Yeah… Yes, I’m his… interim replacement… I hope he’s back soon, too, ma’am.” Right from the bottom of his heart – or at least the pit of his stomach, currently churning – he hoped he’d be back right now.
Ianto, the bastard, bit his lip and sloped out the office.
His return some time later with coffee did not make up for it. Owen was still on the phone. Every time he put it down there was someone else waiting. This time he decided they could wait some more. He grabbed the coffee and gulped half of it.
The phone kept ringing.
“Should I…?”
“Just… leave them to it, a minute. I’ve talked to UNIT, I’ve talked to No. 10, I’ve talked to the bloody Queen already. Whoever it is, they’re not that important.” Owen drank more coffee. Ianto must have made it Jack strength, it was making him twitchy nervous, even if it did taste right. “Why do they need to know anyway? Since when do we answer to anyone? Torchwood is here. Still. They can just get over it.”
“But Jack isn’t.”
“I know.” Owen bit off some choicer words. He took a deep breath, finished his drink. Wished it were something a bit stronger. But the phone kept ringing. “First priority, right? Find Jack. Then… all that lot.” Owen waved at the screen behind him.
“You know ‘all that lot’ could help find him,” Ianto pointed out.
“So use it. Go on, make yourself useful. Turn it into… English.” Owen gestured vaguely, then pulled his… Jack’s chair up to Jack’s desk and grabbed the phone again.
“I’ll make a list, shall I? Nice little bullet points?”
Owen glared, Ianto… didn’t noticeably smirk, but you just knew he was on the inside, and then they turned back to their work again.
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 06:44 pm (UTC)I like. I think that bloody Miles crossover that had me spend time in dogfishmonkey's head removed some (not all, but some) of my burning hatred for him.
Wonder when the call is gonna come in that will send them all haring off to the other side of the world... Not that it would take very much to sell Torchwood with no Jack present. :D
no subject
Date: 2007-08-01 06:51 pm (UTC)I liked that xover too :)
The Himalayas call is about six months away, if my math is remotely right. 18 months between xmas invasion and election day, but the last two episodes of Torchwood couldn't have been later than January unless Owen was moping about Diane for months and months. Which actually he could have been, I guess, but there'd have been a whole big gap between 1-10 and the last eps that way.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 03:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 12:04 pm (UTC)and Ianto is all three
just for starters
Owen really, really needs to stop pissing him off.
:-D
and also, thanks :)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 07:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-02 12:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-10 10:14 am (UTC)Ianto came in, and when he saw it all his face fell. Just for a moment, he looked like it actually hurt. Then the usual open mouthed blank was back.
“That’s the command system. Jack’s startup screens. All the data the head of Torchwood needs.”
“On my login?” Owen turned and stared at it a moment. “Fuck.”
That bit really stuck out to me. The weight of Jack not being there.
Thank you for sharing!
no subject
Date: 2007-08-10 12:02 pm (UTC)