James Goss: Almost Perfect

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, passing 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 god, 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 reassuring 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 classic 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

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

‘Oh yes, definitely one for us,’ Jack was assuring 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 arse. 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 arse 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 sexy 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 assure 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.’