BTBD Challenge 7 - Bug out

[m_findlow]

Title: Bug out
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 2,058 words
Content notes: Written for Challenge 7 - Bug at beattheblackdog. Spoilers for the Big Finish audioplay "The Conspiracy" written by David Llewellyn, and follows on from my earlier fic "On the run".
Summary: Ianto finds himself neck deep in trouble

The beeping from his watch broke him from slumber. Time to get up and face another day. He rolled over and stretched out across the length of the bed, his arm finding only the cold emptiness that surrounded the immediate warm patch where his own body lay tucked under the covers. No Jack. It didn't seem like he was ever going to get used to that fact.

He rolled back over and caught sight of the small clock on his bedside table. Ten past six. That was weird. His watch alarm was set for six am precisely. How could it have been ten past the hour? He squinted at the display on his watch. 6:02. Definitely not ten past. Maybe the battery in his clock was on the blink, but wouldn't that make it slower, not faster? Perhaps it had been wrong for ages, he thought. He hardly used his flat anymore. He'd practically moved in with Jack. Then when Jack had taken off again, hunting down The Committee, he'd spent most nights at the hub, monitoring the rift.

They were supposed to take it in turns, night duty. They all took for granted when Jack was there that the rift didn't operate overnight. Of course it did, it was just that he only ever called them in if he needed more hands on deck. Ianto knew first hand that a lot of the time, it wasn't anything he and Jack couldn't handle together, allowing the rest of the team peaceful dreams while they worked. Now that Jack was gone, they began to realise just how much harder it was trying to coordinate so few people into a roster of nights on and days off. It worked for a few weeks, but as the weeks without Jack stretched into months, Ianto had offered to take the lion's share of night duty. He didn't have anywhere else to be, and the others were better out in the field during the day, where he could sneak an hour or two of sleep.

Protocol 917 had put him officially in charge in Jack's absence, but they all knew that playing their strengths would see them through until Jack came back. Ianto didn't want to have to enforce the protocol unless he wasn't given any other option. And Jack was coming back.

Last night had been one of the few nights he'd had off. He could have slept the night at the hub, but without Jack there it just didn't feel right, so he'd returned to his flat for a mental break from Torchwood, leaving Owen in charge. He'd spent enough nights accidentally dozing off on the sofa in Jack's office during night duty, that one night in a proper bed would be heavenly.

He sat up and picked up the small clock, pulling the cover off the back and inspecting the battery. That was when he saw it. The tiny little device attached right next to the battery. It didn't take a technological genius to know what it was. A bug. A listening device. There was only one explanation for it, and it made his blood run cold.

The Committee.  

He carefully snapped the cover back on the clock and placed it back on the table, making a show of having adjusted the time setting without further ado. If there was a bug in the clock, there were likely more elsewhere, and the possibility of hidden cameras. He couldn't afford to tip them off if they were watching.

His face slotted into the passive mask that he'd perfected years ago as he proceeded from the bedroom to the bathroom, quickly undressing and stepping into the shower, facing the wall while he tried to get his mind working on what to do next.

How long had they been there? Days, weeks, months? There was no way of knowing without further investigation. He remembered the warning Jack had given him the morning he burst into the flat three months ago, covered in blood and on the run. The Committee were powerful and dangerous, that Jack had to go to ground until he could find out how to stop them, and that Ianto shouldn't try to get involved.

He'd reiterated the same warning with the message he'd left back at the hub for the rest of the team, that they should under no circumstances try to find him. He'd come back when it was all over. Of course the team hadn't heeded his warning, knowing that Jack so often got himself into very deep trouble when he tried to go things alone, but their investigations turned up almost nothing. Jack had dropped off the surface of the planet, completely incommunicado. Combined with the demands of managing Torchwood and the rift, their own enquiries quickly dried up, and they were forced to go back to their normal routine, hardly having time to spare Jack a thought, wherever he was.

Everyone that is, except Ianto. Night duty turned out to have its advantages, and most nights were spent trying to find out as much about The Committee as possible. It hadn't helped that as soon as Jack had made his escape from Cardiff, every authority was banging on Torchwood's door wanting an explanation for why two murders had their organisation's fingerprints all over them. A little gift from The Committee to keep them busy whilst they covered their own tracks.

George Wilson had a disturbing history once Ianto had managed to piece it all together. Once a respected newsreader, he'd fallen from grace to voice his firmly held opinions about The Committee, until he'd found himself rising once again to prominence preaching to the masses his various conspiracy theories. His views were controversial to say the least. And Ianto had discovered that Jack had a sizeable file on him on top of all of his own research. Ianto had also read George's self published book about The Committee from cover to cover,  trying to read in between the lines to pick out the truth from the lies. It made for disturbing reading.

He also found the much smaller file on Sam Hallett, the young man who'd attempted suicide jumping off the top of the Skypoint apartment building. At least, that was how it had been reported. Torchwood however had the suicide video Sam had left, knowing it was false because Jack had told him so personally.

He also found tapes hidden in a drawer. A secret interview Jack had conducted with Wilson, that the others didn't know about. Ianto hadn't shared it with the rest of the team. In fact, he hadn't shared any of what he'd been doing with the rest of the team. He knew it was dangerous. He knew what had happened to Sam when he'd gotten involved. He'd accidentally crossed Jack's path and paid the ultimate price. But this was different. Ianto was Torchwood, and based on what he'd read so far, Jack was in way over his head if he thought he could take them down on his own.

Within hours of comandeering Ianto's car and laptop all those months ago, he'd disabled and removed the four tracking devices on the car. Devices he'd installed personally, so as to be able to track Ianto should the worst ever happen. Now he was eliminating that technology, along with the obvious things like number plates, so that Ianto was unable to do the same to him. His precious Audi was as MIA as its new owner.  

Now it seemed someone was tracking Ianto's own movements. And it wasn't Jack.

Reluctantly stepping out of the shower, he dressed and went through his usual routine, hoping not to raise suspicions. It was possible that he wasn't the only one being tracked. Perhaps when Jack had started digging too deeply, he'd inadvertently lead them back to Torchwood. All of them could have their homes bugged, phones tapped, and God only knew what else. As he sat eating his toast he had to make a decision whether to alert the others. Torchwood itself was probably safe. And for now, the others were busy focusing on everyday Torchwood affairs. Perhaps it was better they didn't know. Then they wouldn't be at risk of giving themselves away to the surveillance.

And for the moment, none of them were a threat to The Committee. Only he'd persevered in trying to drudge up more information on just how deep their connections ran, who might be likely insurgents placed in deep cover within the highest levels of government agencies, and where the hell Jack was. And he'd finally been making some headway. Of all the times to discover that he wasn't as safe as he thought.

Without his car, it was a forty minute walk to the hub. He did it regularly when the weather was fair, and took a cab when clouds conspired, or other urgent business called for it. He opted to walk, uncertain that stepping into a cab this morning might not be the last thing he ever did. The whole way he felt like eyes were watching him from every window and every car. He did his best to remain calm and appear as if this was just another day's commute to work. He felt exposed in a way that he never had before. It was with a sigh of relief when he finally entered the tourist office entrance and was able to lock the door behind him, safely ensconced in the hub once more, and glad that he had three nights of rift duty ahead of him. He needed time to plan, and to hope that the rift didn't have other ideas in mind.  

He kept his silence around the rest of the team, knowing that they were safer that way. If he seemed tense and on edge, the others didn't notice. Then on the third night of rift duty, he finally had a breakthrough. He'd been tracking likely associates for The Committee and had stumbled upon a location they might be temporarily operating from. Hours of CCTV footage had given him nothing so far, but then he saw it. Just a split second of coattails and a familiar boot, ducking around the corner, and he knew for certain it was Jack. If Jack was there, he was on to something. He traced the footage back to the night before, and caught a few more frames of Jack's outline stalking the area. He'd found him.

Buoyed by this stroke of good fortune, he began formulating ideas and contingencies. When he stumbled home the next morning on Owen's medical orders to get some proper sleep, he knew he was in trouble. He dropped his keys on the bedside table and looked at the time on the clock. He frowned. The time was exact to the minute.  His stomach dropped heavily, then lurched. They'd been in his flat, checking the bug. He'd purposely left the clock running ten minutes fast, but now it was fixed. They knew he was on to them, or had at least raised enough suspicions to know that he would be piecing things together very quickly, and needed to be removed from the equation. However much he knew or was thought to know was irrelevant, he was now a liability.

He had to bring forward his emergency plan. He tried not to panic and to keep a clear head. The flash drive was already in his pocket, along with his Torchwood secure PDA and a prepaid phone. In his other pocket was a tiny oblong device, that looked much like a cigarette lighter. Without further hesitation, he activated it, sending a powerful electromagnetic pulse outwards, killing every active electrical device within a five mile radius. Every bug and camera, both the ones hidden in his flat and beyond, as well as those covering the streets outside, would be knocked out, allowing him to slip away to the rental car he'd arranged to be parked three streets away. Like Jack, now that they knew he was on to them, his only option was to run. But he knew where Jack was, so that's where he'd be running to.

He was making his getaway. The military term for it was bugging out, which seemed apropos given the situation,  as his feet flew down the emergency stairwell.

Comments

[bk_forever]

Eeep! Very tense and exciting. Be safe, Ianto, hope you find Jack!