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m_findlowTitle: All there in black and white
Character: Ianto
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 300 words
Content notes: None
Author notes: Written for Challenge 792 - Protect at ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
torchwood100
torchwood100Summary: Ianto can't make heads or tails of the archives records. A triple drabble.
Ianto put his thumb to his mouth, chewing at the fingernail as he considered the files in front of him. He always kept his nails clipped and neat, but he had a bad habit of still chewing them when he was anxious about something.
None of it made any sense. The others must have come to the same conclusion as him by now, surely. Then again, no one ever came down and really took a good look at the documents they kept in their archives.
Ianto spread out the files on the desk again, putting them in chronological order. He scrutinised each in detail. The handwriting was a perfect match, from the jaunty upward angle of the cross on the T's to the curving flourish at the end of every Y. Jack's penmanship, but on files from 1899 to 1923, 1949, 1967, 1981, 1994 and all the way up to the present day. Although they now used computers, and before that typewriters, the signature and additional notes were all the same.
It just couldn't be. Jack was what, maybe late thirties? He couldn't have been alive in 1899. Time travel was possible, but they way the files read, these weren't just fleeting visits. It sounded very much like Jack was a regular fixture, and that these reports were nothing more than the day to day assignments that crossed his desk. Like he'd lived through the entire century.
Ianto leaned back in his chair and chewed his nail some more. He'd uncovered something, and it felt dangerous. Jack had never mentioned it, and Jack was one that liked to boast about every outlandish story in his repertoire.
Ianto slid the files back into a single pile and locked them back in their respective drawers. Whatever the reason, he'd protect Jack's secret.
Ianto put his thumb to his mouth, chewing at the fingernail as he considered the files in front of him. He always kept his nails clipped and neat, but he had a bad habit of still chewing them when he was anxious about something.
None of it made any sense. The others must have come to the same conclusion as him by now, surely. Then again, no one ever came down and really took a good look at the documents they kept in their archives.
Ianto spread out the files on the desk again, putting them in chronological order. He scrutinised each in detail. The handwriting was a perfect match, from the jaunty upward angle of the cross on the T's to the curving flourish at the end of every Y. Jack's penmanship, but on files from 1899 to 1923, 1949, 1967, 1981, 1994 and all the way up to the present day. Although they now used computers, and before that typewriters, the signature and additional notes were all the same.
It just couldn't be. Jack was what, maybe late thirties? He couldn't have been alive in 1899. Time travel was possible, but they way the files read, these weren't just fleeting visits. It sounded very much like Jack was a regular fixture, and that these reports were nothing more than the day to day assignments that crossed his desk. Like he'd lived through the entire century.
Ianto leaned back in his chair and chewed his nail some more. He'd uncovered something, and it felt dangerous. Jack had never mentioned it, and Jack was one that liked to boast about every outlandish story in his repertoire.
Ianto slid the files back into a single pile and locked them back in their respective drawers. Whatever the reason, he'd protect Jack's secret.
no subject
Date: 2023-12-24 11:17 am (UTC)