Characters: Ianto, Tosh, Jack, Gwen, Owen.
Summary: Ianto was only down in the archives for a short while, but the rest of the team have still managed to get themselves in a muddle.
Word Count: 500
Written For: Prompt 193: Happen at anythingdrabble.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
When you worked for Torchwood, you lived every day with the inescapable knowledge that just about anything could happen. Only recently, Ianto and his body had spent the best part of a day separated, something very few people could claim to have experienced, but for a Torchwood agent, it was par for the course. It wasn’t even the strangest thing that had happened to him. When it came to Torchwood, ‘strange’ was often more commonplace than ‘ordinary’.
At least it leant variety to the job. It wasn’t all chasing rogue Weevils, preventing alien invasions, and collecting sundry items dropped off by the Rift. There was always something new to discover, experience, or be, if you happened to fall foul of an unstable piece of alien tech. By now, every member of the team had been someone, or something, else on several occasions.
“Do I even need to bother asking what happened?” Ianto enquired, frowning at his teammates.
“You could try,” Jack offered, “but I don’t think you’d like the answer.”
“That’s a safe bet. How many times do I have to tell you lot not to fight over unidentified alien devices?” Ianto looked at Tosh, what there was of her. “How did you get mixed up in this?” He’d always considered his friend the most adult member of the team.
“I was trying to stop them,” Tosh admitted. “They kept snatching it from each other, and no matter what I said they wouldn’t put it down, so I tried to take it off them and…” She trailed off miserably. “Someone must have caught one of the buttons and activated it.”
“Do you think you can reverse this?”
“I’m sure I can, but I think I’ll need another pair of hands.”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have enough already?”
“They’re in the wrong places.”
Studying the amorphous blob that was his colleagues, four recognisable heads arrayed at the top, eight evenly spaced arms around the midsection, and eight legs underneath, Ianto shook his head. “There’d better not be a Rift alert while you’re like this. You’ll never fit in the SUV.”
“We didn’t know this would happen,” Gwen wailed.
“Which is why we don’t play with unidentified technology; we let Tosh study it and figure out what it does.”
“I thought it was a mobile phone from the twenty-seventh century,” Jack explained, probably hoping to shift the blame to the others. “I just wanted to see if it had any cool games on it, but then Gwen and Owen kept grabbing at it, wanting to try it themselves.”
“I work with a bunch of five-year-olds!” Ianto glared at Jack. “You’re the worst, always thinking you recognise things, and you’re almost always wrong, but you never learn!”
“I’m sorry, Ianto.”
“For all the good that does us. Oh well, what’s done is done. I suppose Tosh and I had better get on with fixing things. If you’d all shuffle this way…”
Ianto had a feeling it would be a long day.