Relation

Notes: Isn't it strange how fics turn out? My original idea for this story was of a nasty family member who'd try to convince poor Ianto that he was some sort of evil demon…yes, I've been watching too much Buffy again. If you want to see precisely what inspired that wacky plot bunny, see the episode 'Family'. Now the demon has thankfully been relocated to a much better host (although I guess we'll have to call it an alien now, right?) and Ianto's family member is a lot less evil. Thank goodness for that.

It's no secret that I love Ianto and am hoping for more of him in the second series. And besides that, I find the idea of characters from a show like Torchwood having very normal (ie dysfunctional) families really intriguing. Catching a glimpse of Tosh's mum was fascinating for me. Because I'm a huge square.

For Kathleen, my Torchwood buddy, who loves the idea of 'Annie' and giggled about it for quite some time.

For Nez and Roy, because they're awesome. Credit goes to Roy for the SUV action, and much credit goes to Nez because I held this over her head for weeks, feeding her little snippets and making her wait for the complete copy. It nearly drove her bonkers. The again, if it did, I probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference…

And for Cossie and Morph, because sometimes the best kind of friends are the ones you'll probably never meet.

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…ten…nine…eight…

Counting down the seconds in her head. So difficult to concentrate with blood swirling and pounding in her ears, and her vision swimming with hot, painful tears…

…seven…six…

If she's screaming, she can't hear it anymore. Feels like something tearing at her insides. Knives, but hot, clawing at her, ripping. It's forcing it's way out. Again.

…five…four…three…

Gripping the edge of the cold porcelain sink so hard that her knuckles turn a deathly white. One fist flies out. The mirrors smashes, sending shards of glass into her hair.

Blood trickles down her forehead, mingling with the sweat and grime and angry tears on her face. She wouldn't look at herself even if she could. Grinds her fists into the remains of the mirror, punishing herself. Out of control. Again.

She won't remember anything after this.

…two…one…

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Back when he'd had a normal job, Ianto had dreaded Monday mornings, just like most of the rest of the population. A dull office with incredibly dull people who seemed to think one of life's greatest highlights was going out for a kebab. It had been constraining, not to mention tiring. But that's the way it all works, Ianto mused as he locked up his car. You have to work your way up. Then you get to break free.

Of course, to an outsider, Ianto still had the most boring job at Torchwood. But he sure as heck didn't dread Monday mornings with quite the fervour he used to. All those poor sods with mind numbing desk jobs, and he worked in an underground base in which one of his daily duties was to feed a pterodactyl. And there was always that superior feeling he couldn't quite suppress when he overheard someone moaning about their job, the feeling that what he was doing mattered, it was important.

He was so absorbed in these slightly smug thoughts that he didn't even notice her.

"Annie?"

Ianto jumped, wondering who had spoken for a moment before realisation hit him. Only one person enjoyed humiliating him enough to call him Annie. And there she was, that lopsided grin of hers stretching from ear to ear, perched on his desk in the reception of the Hub.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, feeling considerably unnerved by her sudden appearance. "And come to think of it, how did you get in?"

"No, the correct response is: 'oh my beloved sister Alis, how lovely it is to see you again!'"

Ianto smiled. "Yes, of course it's good to see you," he said graciously, dropping his keys on the desk. "So how's uni life? Living off Pot Noodles yet?"

"Of course, because I'm completely incapable of cooking anything that doesn't come with it's own plastic spoon," she said, rolling her eyes. "And uni's brilliant…stressful at times, not to mention tiring, but brilliant."

"Hmm…are you sure?" He was feeling a little suspicious now. "You never come and visit unless you want something. You still owe me one hundred and twenty six pounds."

"One hundred and twenty six?" Alis said with alarm, her eyes widening.

"I have a tally."

"Of course you do." She jumped off the desk and hugged him tightly around the waist. "I missed you Annie."

"Don't…don't call me Annie," he muttered, feeling himself going pink even though there was no one else around to hear it.

"Annie?" He had been wrong of course. And yes, it had to be Jack, propped against the door with a bemused smile on his face. "Something you've not been telling us Ianto?" Alis looked delighted, but Ianto rolled his eyes, a pained expression on his face.

"This is my little sister, Alis," he explained. Jack raised an eyebrow. "Which you already knew, since I presume you let her in."

"Well, how could I refuse?" said Jack, grinning now as he studied the pair of them. "I can see the family resemblance. That cute little button nose of yours Ianto, and of course, that beautiful Welsh accent."

"Don't forget the snappy dress sense," Alis chimed in, giving a little twirl.

"I think I'll leave you to it," Ianto said, trying to make his escape.

"Don't worry Ianto, I still think you're way prettier than her," Jack said. "Coffee?"

"Coming right up sir." Jack treated him to a flash of his most charming smile then disappeared into the Hub. Alis followed Ianto through the beaded curtain to the spotless kitchen, stretching like a cat.

"I had a long journey, not that you asked," she said, yawning widely. "London to Cardiff. Takes a bloody long time. And I had some moron behind me in the train playing his iPod at nose bleed volume and kicking the back of my chair."

"There's no way you just stepped off a train," said Ianto with a small smile. Alis looked 'freshly painted', as their mother used to say. She was also wearing a strange assortment of clothes which either represented a new student craze, or his sister's own bizarre (although she preferred 'unique') take on fashion. "Did you get dressed in the dark again?" She gave him a shove.

"Because your outfit is so hip and happening," she said with a smirk. "You look like you just stepped out of some snobby prep school."

"Well you see, people have this place where they go, and it's called work," Ianto began.

"Is that why Jack's wearing braces?" she said, her eyebrow raised. "Or as you call him, sir."

"Watch it you," said Ianto good naturedly, spooning ground coffee into a large cafetiere. "How's mum?"

"Fine, I think," she said vaguely. "I haven't been to see her recently. Haven't really had the time."

"Alis." Ianto gave her a disapproving look.

"Well I haven't!" she protested, scowling. She sighed. "I'll give her a ring if you think it's that important."

"Of course it's important," he said, still disapproving. "Now look, you can't hang around here all day."

"Nowhere else to go," she said with a shrug. "Pretend it's 'take your sister to work' day."

"Or not," he said quickly, throwing his keys in her direction. "Give me ten minutes. I'll meet you in the car. You can go back to my apartment for the day, as long as you promise not to make a mess."

"Scout's honour," she said, snapping a salute. "Just tell me where you keep the chocolate."

"Not a chance," he muttered. "And phone mum!"

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When Ianto returned home much later that day, Alis was reading a glossy magazine with her feet propped on the coffee table. He bent over and pulled one of her earphones out. The sound of crashing cymbals blared from the tiny speaker.

"Oi!" she complained.

"Feet off the table," he instructed, loosening his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt.

"And how was your day?" Alis asked, sweetly enough to be sarcastic, turning off the mp3 player.

"Puzzling," he said, getting out a mug for himself. "Coffee?"

"No thanks," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Y'know, you have four kinds of regular coffee, two types of decaf, an espresso machine, three sizes of coffee cups in various colours, and only four teabags."

"Tea is soothing," he said, putting the kettle on. "I prefer to be tense."

"So why puzzling?" she asked, propping her head on the back of the sofa so she could look at him. Ianto's apartment was neat but cosy, with an open plan kitchen and living room and a couple of doors leading off to his bedroom and a study. Alis had been pleased to find a picture of her and Ianto on the kitchen windowsill. A silly holiday snap, with them pulling faces at the camera and Ianto wearing a huge novelty sombrero (although, as she remembered, not by choice).

"Alis, the kind of work that I do…it's not for public knowledge."

"You make it sound like something out of the X-Files," she said sarcastically. "Come on Scully, I'm not a member of the public. I'm family."

"Speaking of which, did you phone mum?"

"Quit changing the subject Ianto," Alis whined. She sighed. "Look, it's not like I have anyone to tell. I know it's something to do with the government…"

"Wrong," said Ianto, smiling to himself. She was certainly persistent.

"Oh fine," she huffed, switching on the TV. "Don't tell me then. I don't care."

Ianto paused, knowing that Jack wouldn't be pleased if his little sister knew what kind of work they did at Torchwood. But Alis had always liked to flaunt her exciting life and supposedly 'super-cool' friends. Nowadays, Ianto knew for certain that in the interesting life stakes, he was the clear winner. So what would be the harm…? "In a word, murder," he said, realising at once from her wide-eyed reaction that he'd made a mistake in telling her. "And don't you dare tell Jack that I told you."

"Murder? What kind?" she asked eagerly.

"The kind where someone gets killed."

"Ianto…come on. You've already told me part of it."

The sensible portion of Ianto's brain screamed at him to stop talking now, before she found out too much. Sadly, Ianto decided that for once, he would go with his instinct, not his common sense. And contrary to popular belief, these were two very different things. "A man got ripped apart by something with very long, sharp claws and a lot of teeth."

…a sickening, wet tear, the sound of flesh being slowly drawn apart. A terrible screaming, and all she can do is rip, and bite, until the flailing and the crying stops, and she's got to go home and wash the blood from under her fingernails…

"…Owen and Tosh are at work on a DNA sample, so it shouldn't be long…Alis?" Ianto noticed with some concern that his sister had suddenly turned very pale. She looked at him blearily, her eyes focused on some point beyond him. Then she seemed to slowly rouse herself from whatever stupor she was in and gave him a weak smile.

"Sorry…what did you say?"

"Doesn't matter what I said," he said, rushing over to feel her forehead. "Are you sick? Is that why you decided to visit?"

"Don't be so paranoid," she said tiredly, pushing his hand away. "I'm fine. Just…tired out from the journey still."

"Then for God's sake lie down. You look terrible."

"Oh thanks," she said irritably, sinking back into the sofa.

"Can I get you anything?" he asked gently.

"As long as it's not coffee," she said, her eyelids drooping. "Use up one of those teabags maybe."

"OK," he said, ruffling her hair affectionately. It was so odd to see her take ill so suddenly though. Maybe his stories from work had been a bit too much for her to handle.

"Stop worrying about me," she murmured, not bothering to open her eyes. "I'll be fine after a bit of rest. But tomorrow, I want to see exactly what my big brother does for a living."

Ianto stayed quiet about that. He wasn't sure quite how much family members were supposed to know about Torchwood. Alis probably thought he worked for some obscure branch of the police force.

"Ianto?" Alis's eyes flickered open again. "You said something with claws. Does that mean an animal?"

He hesitated. "Almost certainly some kind of animal," he said eventually. After all, that wasn't really a lie, was it?

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