The Supremacy of the Suit
Training Prospectus
"Alright boys and girls, happy news today!" Jack Harkness opened the staff meeting with his usual excessive aplomb. "Our sister agency contacted me yesterday and they are quite happy to host a two week training session for our newest field agents starting Monday. Now, Ianto, I know you were already sent for training with them for administration and archival duties but as a gesture of courtesy you are going for a field update. As for you Gwen, this training is long overdue."
"What? You can't be serious!" Gwen protested. "I'm perfectly well trained. I ran the team while you were away, Jack. I know what I'm doing." Coughs filled the air.
"The signpost last week." Tosh put in.
"It moved! I swear!" A red flush crept up Gwen's neck. It had moved, but it was a council worker shifting it into position.
"The asphyxiated teen." Owen grumbled.
"No one mentioned that mixing Retcon with ginseng tea would be disastrous!" A pasty white hue took over Gwen's features as she remembered the horror of that moment. Luckily the teen had only ingested a sip and Owen was able to save him.
"The Tarafaxian morpher." Ianto deadpanned.
"Honestly, Ianto! Was it really that bad running around as a hare?" Gwen found little reason for Ianto's ire. He was cute as a bouncy, albeit purple, hare. Worse events had occurred that directly involved Ianto, most at Jack's hands. Or Owen's pranks.
"I think the issue was the fact that upon reversion he was green with orange polka dots and bare arse naked as you messed with the controls even more." Owen offered.
"And on that lovely note," Jack interrupted before Gwen could offer up another excuse, "the training is mandatory. Not up for discussion. End of."
Gwen huffed as she flopped back into her seat.
"The loss of dignity I could deal with. No change there." Ianto muttered. "It was the loss of the suit."
Jack chuckled. "The green and orange was a good look, red would have been better." Ianto glared at his lover. "Now, your flight leaves Saturday. Pack lightly, they have a uniform policy."
"Flight?" Gwen asked. "Where exactly is this 'sister agency' located?"
"Manhattan." A blank look coerced a more precise answer from Jack. "New York City, New York. USA."
Gwen began spluttering at the expanded location name. "What am I supposed to tell Rhys? I have a fiancé, Jack. I can't just leave without telling him something. And why the States? There is nothing they can possibly teach me. Yanks know less about aliens than I do!" Gwen faltered as she saw the fiery rage lighting Jack's eyes.
Ianto smiled that 'my god how simple are you' smile and answered in Jack's stead. "Training, mandatory, two weeks. Should cover."
Jack beamed at the brilliant reply. "Now, other business. Tosh, what are the current projections for Rift activity calling for?"
Jack and Owen stood next to the SUV after offloading Gwen's suitcases. Ianto handled his own single case and attaché.
"Gwen, when you arrive at JFK, follow Ianto's lead. He has all the information on who and what." Jack grinned.
Gwen glowered and remained silent as she entered the terminal, following Ianto's lead. The awkward bags teetered about as they were tugged behind her.
"Think we should have told her what the uniform policy is?" Owen asked, amused at the ridiculous scene.
"I asked Ianto to take plenty of pictures." Jack laughed as he crawled back into the driver's seat. Speaking into the comms, Jack asked his still Cardiff bound team. "So, no alerts, no one to babysit. Up for a pub quiz?"
Ianto snapped several pictures as Gwen was pulled away from the Customs line at John F. Kennedy International Airport. He stood a few people back in the adjacent line, his passport, IDL and carry permit at the ready. He tried not to laugh as he heard Gwen's screams.
"I'm a British citizen! I'm Torchwood! You can't treat me like this! Let me go, you oafish moron!" The excitement of the screeching woman had pulled all the departing passengers from their respective queues.
Stepping smoothly into a vacated line, Ianto smiled beatifically. "Hello! Quite the bit of excitement."
The Customs agent smiled back at the young man. "How long are you staying with us?"
"Two weeks. Sixteen days on the out."
The agent looked and typed, inspecting the identifications. "And is this trip business or pleasure?"
Ianto let loose one of his secret smiles. "Business primarily. But I intend to sneak some pleasure."
"Any declarations?"
Ianto silently opened his attaché, revealing his favored side arms with the appropriate forms to allow passage along with his PDA. A security officer checked and cleared the items.
The agent smiled, stamping the passport in approval. "Everything appears to be in order. Welcome to the United States, Mr. Jones."
"Thank you." Ianto walked over to the Peet's Coffee kiosk. I'll release the terrorist alert tag after my pick-me-up.
Gwen was oddly passive on the journey to, and check-in at, the hotel facility. Ianto was thankful for the assuredly minute reprieve.
The following morning
Ianto smiled as Gwen groused about the treatment these "Yankee hooligans" had lobbed at her. "The nerve of them to think ME a terrorist! I'm an ex-PC! There's no-way I could possibly be a terrorist." Her Welsh accent thickened as she raged on. "Oohh! This place is a nightmare as well! The room had no bath. After a flight, I want a bath!"
Ianto silently shifted her into the backseat of the non-descript black sedan before joining her. He carefully pulled out his PDA, discreetly transferring the photos of Gwen's morning slip-ups to the Torchwood servers.
"The paper on the mat this morning! It tried to kill me! And that breakfast! How could they possibly call that a buffet!" Gwen lost steam as the car pulled into traffic.
"That's nice, Gwen." Ianto replied, purposely projecting the idea that he was ignoring her.
Scowling at her co-worker, Gwen turned her attentions to the driver. "So, handsome, where are the sights in this locality?"
Ianto swallowed convulsively as Gwen tried to obtain information from the auto-pilot. He wished it were possible for photographic evidence, but resigned himself to an amusing diary entry. Even Gwen isn't thick enough to miss a camera flash in close quarters. Happily, the drive from hotel to HQ was shortly complete. The side door opened automatically, allowing Ianto to escape before a chuckle exploded embarrassingly. Taking a deep breath, Ianto smiled at the agents there to greet them.
"My god, do you all dress like that?" Gwen's foot immediately lodged in her mouth. To further add to her utter failure at tact and observation, she added. "And your man behind the wheel, is he new? Didn't seem to be able to answer any of my questions."
Ianto started shaking, a laugh finally escaping nearly launched him to the ground.
Disturbed by her colleague's sudden lack of self-control, Gwen focused on the two men approaching her. One was older, 50, 60 maybe, Caucasian, roughly Ianto's height. The other was slightly taller, younger, mid-thirties at best, and black. Both wore the black over white plain suit and sunglasses the driver wore.
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