Ianto has been working for them for eight weeks when Suzie Costello finds Lisa.

Suzie likes to wander about the recesses of the Hub when Owen gets to be too annoying, or the atmosphere in the main Hub is too tense, or when the Glove's pressure on her mind starts to hurt. So she roams about and explores Torchwood Cardiff's underground lairs.

There are catacombs reaching out through half the city. Some of the tunnels branching off of the main passageways are blocked by debris or bolted shut by multiple alien tech locks, or simply far too dark and wet and uncomfortable to go down. She always discovers new things.

There are barracks down there, where she knows some Torchwood members used to sleep, before a virus killed half the team and they decided in-base housing was a bad idea. There are some passages that are just rows and rows of empty cells with stained walls and rusted metal doors. There are storage rooms that hold rations and vacuum-sealed space food and ready-made military food. There are different storage chambers that hold strange alien devices that Suzie won't touch, and she won't tell anyone about them.

Discovery is something she will always treasure. A mystery, an unknown, she loves them. She loves to pick and prod and uncover things she doesn't understand, pulling them apart until they're mysterious no more. And then she leaves the solved ones for others while she goes in search of a new unknown.

She explores for the sheer delight of wandering, and for the empty peace the gloom brings as she rambles about in the dank tunnels below the city. Sometimes she laughs in her head that it's probably fitting for a dark-minded woman like her to be searching about in here. If she were any younger, they'd call her a stubborn young woman with problems. As it is, she does have plenty of problems. She knows that already. Torchwood doesn't hire people who are stable. The dark tunnels around her know it well. Her mind gleefully supplies her with the thought that she'll grow into something new if she stays down here too long. She has to remind herself that she already has.

She's only just getting the urge to roam for the day. Owen is throwing a tennis ball at the brick wall and catching it and it's making little pock noises each time it bounces back. Tosh flinches every time until she finally puts headphones on and blocks everyone out. Jack's in his office on the phone to some UNIT higher-up, yelling down the line every so often. Ianto, as usual, is nowhere to be seen. And Suzie is being driven out of her mind with boredom; the Glove isn't cooperating today. She goes down to wander the depths.

The tunnel that she chooses forks left or right about ten metres in. She takes left where she'd usually take a right. Something new for today. She passes arches and doorways and openings that look like they've been punched into the stone. Some of the rooms are empty. One has cells that obviously had been used for prisoners but are now full of random equipment: ropes, army blankets and tarps, wood crates with the Torchwood stamp.

A whirring noise catches her attention. Generally her escapades have been mostly silent, save for mice running about. Dripping isn't unusual either, considering how Cardiff is generally wet and how the Hub is stationed next to, and in some areas, under, the Bay. But she knows the sounds of water and mice well, and this is neither. She follows the sound as it gets louder, too curious to stop even as her Torchwood instincts scream at her to go back. She learned not too long ago that ignoring those instincts proved interesting, and she loves interesting. She pushes open the door that looms in front of her, the whirring muffled behind it.

A woman is asleep on a metal gurney, tubes and wires trailing from various machines to her body. She is covered in panels of metal, a helmet arcs across her head, and it all looks very, very familiar.

Footsteps from behind make her turn, and she spins round in time to see Ianto freeze, hands clenching around a leather-bound book. She doesn't move. It seems silly, but she wants to see what he does. There's so much mystery about him. It might be interesting.

"Oh," Ianto says, softly. He doesn't seem surprised, or frightened. She nods.

"Oh," she agrees.

"It's not what it looks like."

"Of course it isn't."

Ianto hurries past her and puts his book down on a chair. She peers past him at it. Stamped on the faded green leather are the words The Secret Garden, bordered by leaved vines. Her attention is pulled back when Ianto murmurs something into the sleeping woman's ear, stroking her cheek with the back of a hand. The woman does not wake. Suzie coughs lightly.

Ianto turns to face her, gesturing at the twisted shape behind him. "It's not—" He starts. "She's my—"

Suzie holds up a hand. "I don't want to know. This is your secret. I'm not going to hold on to it for you."

"You won't tell?"

"Everyone in Torchwood has secrets." She points to the metal-bound figure. "That's yours. Whoever she is. I don't know and I don't want to know."

She knows far too much about hiding things from Jack, hiding things from Tosh, hiding in general. She's not going to help this broken woman or her caretaker. But she's glad now that she's accidentally dug deeper into Ianto's being and he's not so mysterious anymore. There's nothing more to explore there and Suzie really doesn't care any longer.

Ianto blinks at her, desperation and weariness and fear warring behind his eyes. She jerks her head toward the door and he follows her out and bolts the door closed before leaning against the wall. He shifts nervously and stares at his shoes. His suit makes a strange scratching sound on the stone, his sigh loud and echoing in the hall. Suzie stares at the dejected figure, a study in the knife-edge between hope and despair.

"I knew Jack would regret hiring you."

A shoulder lifts and falls and he won't look at her. "Me, too."