Title: A Matter of Trust
Author: Outside Edge
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters merely borrow them from time to time.
Summary: Set after Cyberwoman. A series of random POVs from the members of the Torchwood team.

***

IANTOS POV

It's all a matter of trust I suppose.
Living the way we do.
Doing the work that we do.
We have to trust one another.

And I broke that trust.

It was a stupid thing to do. With the benefit of hindsight and in the cold light of day, stripped of emotions, I see that now. But like they say "Love conquers all."

Will I ever be trusted again, I ask myself.

I approach Jacks office in trepidation. We haven't spoken since — since Lisa, not above what needed to be said on an operational basis.

Now everyone has gone home and we are alone in the Hub. His office is dark, the single desk lamp illuminating his workspace. He is ploughing his way through the pile of files and requisition I left for him earlier, a bizarre peace offering.

I place the cup of coffee on his desk and note that the pleasantries and the double-entendres have gone. I guess I'll have to earn them.

He picks up the cup and sniff the liquid inside and takes a tentative sip, all the while avoiding eye contact.

"Worried I've poisoned it Sir?" I ask.
He looks up and meets my eyes. I am aware of how old he is suddenly looking.
"Wouldn't put it past you." He says, evenly.
"And ruin a perfectly good coffee?" I reply.
"Guess not." he replies, with a tight grin. "Ianto go home. It's late."
He turns back to his work with a sigh. I am dismissed.
"Goodnight Sir."

I retreat to the door, as I turn to shut it I see him cradle his head in his hands in despair.

Perhaps we're not that different after all.

***

JACKS POV

I know that I should be more understanding.
But I can't.
Not after what has happened.

That thing, I'm not gonna dignify it with a name. That creature nearly killed me — twice! He insists on calling it Lisa, but she was dead at the Battle of Canary Wharf, he was just keeping a ghost alive.

I'm trying my best to be civil, but boy it's hard. Sometimes when he gives me that look, I just wanna throw him up against the wall and .. No matter, killing him won't change anything and let's be honest this place would fall apart without him, who else is prepared to shovel Weevil shit?

He's like naughty puppy at the moment, keeps bringing me stuff to gain my approval, to get back in my good books. Although today's offering of a pile of reports, for Chrissakes, wasn't quite what I had in mind. It's gonna take me forever to read them all.

I've never seen the place look so clean, although if he tidies my desk once more this week, I'm gonna have to tie him up … No, no get that thought outta your head Jack, this is not the time nor the place, although since when has that stopped you before?

He brings me coffee.
I can't help myself and eye it suspiciously.
He assures me it's not poisoned.
God I hate living this way.

***

GWENS POV

Poor Ianto.
Oh God, there I go again!
What would Jack say?

I'm getting too involved, too emotional, too human.
But then again, if I'm not human then what am I? — like her, Lisa, a machine with no feelings.

I know Jack has feelings, I'm damn well certain of it, except he's too damned hardnosed to admit it.

There he is again, sulking in his room like some surly teenager and Ianto, poor love, is trying to fade away into the background, to stay under the radar. He looks like a whipped dog and I know who's doing the whipping.

Not that Jack's done anything physical — at least not that I've noticed!

It's the silences, the reproachful looks.

I know Jack's been hurt — not only physically, I mean he nearly died when he was electrocuted or whatever that creature did to him, but I think it hurt him more to find out that Ianto had been hiding something from him.

That's the pot calling the kettle black!
What do we really know about Captain Jack Harkness I ask you?

***

OWENS POV

So the teaboy's gonna kill our illustrious leader.
I'd like to see him try.
That cyberbitch tried it and look where it got her -pterodactyl kebab!

Nah, Ianto hasn't got the balls to carry that little number off. I mean look at him now, creeping around, trying to make us feel sorry for him. Poor Ianto, hid his monster in the basement and got found out, never mind that he almost got the lot of us killed in the process.

Mind you, brought me and Gwen together, literally, although I could have chosen a better venue than the mortuary locker — number 3 storeroom for example. God, she's a right kisser, I wonder what she's like a bed? What's that boyfriends name, Ross, Rice, something like that, some poncy Welsh name. Does something in transport — Eddie Stobart eat your heart out!

Oh God, here comes the teaboy again. Face like a wet weekend, typical Welsh the. Have I finished with my cup?, 'No I bloody well haven't, I happen to like cold coffee, now sod off. ' He's beginning to give me the creeps.

Oh bloody hell, here comes Jack. Better look busy, his fuse has got shorter this week, like he blames us all for this. Keep your head down Owen.

Was going to do an autopsy on the bodies.
But can't be arsed.
Cause of death — Death by Torchwood.

***

TOSH'S POV

I don't know what to say.
I don't know what to do.
So I say nothing and do nothing.

Jacks prowling around like a caged tiger. Ianto's trying to fade into the brickwork. Owen and Gwen — well I'm not sure what's going on there and I really don't want to know.

The quietness is getting to me — although it's nice to be able to concentrate for a change, I do miss the chatter.

Jack's locked himself away in his office again. It's probably for the best, he's so short with everyone at the moment, like he blames himself for everything.

Ianto comes to my desk, have I finished with my cup? 'Yes thank you ' I say. I touch his arm briefly to convey the feelings I cannot express in words. He looks away, unable to meet my eyes, I can see him fighting to keep control of his emotions. I won't do that again.

Ianto's tidying up again. I'm beginning to worry about his health, both his physical and mental health. I haven't seen him eat in days, not properly and he's always here last at night and first in the morning, perhaps I should have a word with Jack.

What was that crash?
Oh, only Jacks wastepaper bin being kicked down the stairs.
Perhaps now wouldn't be a good time.

***