m_findlow

Title: Over fishing
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 893 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for m_findlow's prompt "Any, any, so long and thanks for all the fish" at fic_promptly
Summary: Ianto was just trying to do the right thing...

He entered Jack's office with no small amount of trepidation. He'd been antsy and on edge ever since Gwen had brought Rhys into the hub. It seemed to have nothing to do with their current case, and everything to do with his position in the complicated love triangle unfolding.

Ianto settled the mug of coffee on the desk in front of Jack and he barely even registered it.

'I was joking earlier,' Ianto said. 'About the plankton, I mean.'

'Huh?' Jack said, finally looking up.

'The plankton. For the space whale.' He caught the angry frown that crossed Jack's face. 'Or not,' he said, quickly backtracking.

'I meant what I said,' Jack replied, holding that stern look in place. 'We're saving it.'

'Right,' Ianto replied. 'And we're sure we know what it eats?'

Jack flipped the screen around to face him. He half expected it to have a dossier on Rhys Williams. Instead there was a grainy image of a large bulbous creature.

'That's what it is?'

'No idea,' Jack said, 'but that's my best guess.'

Ianto felt like the obvious question was "have you shown Rhys to confirm?" but he held his tongue. Jack was thoroughly displeased with Rhys' involvement as it was. It didn't seem to matter that he was the only one who'd actually seen it.

'Not much to go on,' he said instead.

Jack slammed the laptop screen down. 'Just make it happen, Ianto. Can you do that?'

'Yes, sir,' he said, taking that for dismissal.

He'd done some of his own research, based on what Jack had shown him. Plankton was all wrong. Funny at the time, but wrong. If it was anything like an earth whale of a similar kind, small fish and squid were probably better food sources - and much easier to procure - he thought gratefully. He'd have to call in all his favours from the local fish market where he bought Myfanwy's food, but at least it was a start.

'You want how much?' came the question on the other end of the phone.

He knew it sounded ridiculous. Who in their right mind had need of that many metric tonnes?

'Just tell me you can do it,' he pleaded. After Jack's ultimatum, he didn't want to be the one to throw a spanner in the works, assuming they ever took custody of the thing in the first place.

'Well, yeah, I suppose,' the man mused. 'That's the better part of a week's catch for the whole fleet, and I'll be upsetting a lot of other wholesale customers by selling you the lot.'

'I can pay extra to compensate.' Just say yes, he silently prayed.

'Alright,' the man sighed. 'Suppose I can't really knock back an offer like that.'

'Thank you. And you can deliver?'

'Oh, now he wants delivery, too? Yeah, yeah, alright. Won't be today, it'll have to be tomorrow, that alright?'

'Perfect,' Ianto said, relieved.

Standing here now, watching the enormous trucks backing up to the loading bay, he felt slightly queasy. It wasn't just one truck, but a half dozen, as promised. Everything had been so mad since the death of the space whale that he hadn't given a thought to canceling the order, and he hadn't wanted to bring it up with Jack. He still seemed upset about the way everything had ended, and Ianto hadn't done him any favours by nearly getting himself shot in the process. Hard to believe all of that had been only yesterday.

Looking at the trucks now, he could tell that even if the whale had survived, that it was far too much food for one creature, whatever size. The picture Jack had given him really didn't give you a proper idea of how big the thing was. That or he'd known all along and simply mentally overcompensated.

What the hell was he supposed to do with all of this now? He couldn't give it to Myf. It wasn't nearly the same grade as the stuff he bought for her, and now she'd been spoiled by the good stuff for far too long to accept this muck. Plus most of it would go bad long before anyone could eat it. In hindsight he probably should have had it delivered to the warehouse where the whale had been incinerated. Its meals were about to go the same way in all likelihood.

He stood there in silence, watching as the men piled out of each truck's cabin, unloading the large pallets of seafood. Bless them for not asking what he was going to do with it all. Perhaps they thought he was starting up a cat food company, or something.

'Same time next week?' one driver asked, reminding him that he'd enquired about a weekly delivery service.

'Er, no, I think that's plenty. I'll call you if we need more.'

'Right-o.' The driver handed him a slip of paper; their tax invoice. If he hadn't felt sick from the sight of it, and now the smell of it, the number on the docket was well and truly sufficient to turn his stomach in knots.

'Thanks,' he replied weakly. 'So, long and thanks for all the fish,' he added, trying to find the irony in his situation.

As the trucks rolled out, he cast his gaze over the mountain of crates.

'Bloody space whale,' he muttered.