Fanfic - Counting Stars 5/17 [Torchwood: Jack/Ianto]

[soera]

A/N: I think I want to add a little disclaimer here. [Torchwood's not mine, etc, but that wasn't actually what I was going to say.]
This fic was born of me reading one too many fics which utilised a particular cliche [it will remain unnamed for now]. Most times, the cliche came out of absolutely nowhere, and I didn't feel like I really bought the way things happened. I usually thought - 'but there wasn't any backstory!'
So... I wrote it.
This fic is born of a cliche and to clichedom it will eventually return. I hope it's a detailed enough take that you find yourself thinking, 'hey, that could have happened.' The Big Cliche will only make itself apparent near the end of the fic [though I had fun tossing in a couple others throughout] - and if you don't like it, feel free to mentally rewrite the ending. But bear with me in the meantime!

Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

The next morning, the bruises were clearly evident, though he thankfully hadn’t worsened his not-quite-healed Weevil-inflicted wounds. The visible evidence could be concealed by his suit, and the pain wasn’t too bad. He’d be able to fake things without trouble. No one had to know; he didn’t want anyone to worry about him.

He straightened the black suit and tie he was wearing, checked that nothing was amiss and that he had everything he needed (address book, ring, keys, packed lunch, wallet, ID), then left the house. There was something he needed to do before he could go back to work.

As he left his house, he dialled the Torchwood office, knowing that no one would be around to pick up at that time. Once the machine clicked on, he started speaking, delivering his carefully-scripted speech in a relaxed, casual tone. “Hey, Tosh, it’s Ianto,” he said. “I won’t be coming into work today morning - family matters and all that, I’ll be driving out of Cardiff. I’ll see if I can come round in the afternoon, but don’t hold your breath. Suppose you’ll have to survive on Starbucks today - and don’t let Owen near the coffee maker, will you? I really don’t feel like having to fix it again.”

He didn’t doubt that they’d wonder exactly what was going on with him, but the staged note he’d dropped in Jack’s office would likely allay any worries (suspicions). 8 at sis’s - till 6/7? it read. Drive to L? Look up times - or cranky kids! WILL D BE THERE? It was cryptic enough to pass as shorthand notes to himself, and the mention of his sister would undoubtedly reassure them, alongside his ‘family matters’ comment in his message. He’d likely have to tolerate some teasing when he got back, but it’d be worth it for them not to realise what he would be doing that day. Above all else, he didn’t want any fuss.

His first stop was Providence Park, where he spent an hour with Jamie. Any commentary on their current lives was carefully avoided; instead, he chose to regale her unresponsive form with amusing anecdotes of their time in Torchwood London. He surprised himself by actually being able to laugh at a few of those memories.

“I don’t know if you knew Douglas,” he told her. “You were in different divisions, but I think most people had at least heard of him. Complete practical joker, y’know? He was the one who came up with the idea to spike Schmidt’s food. Doug was also the one who came up with the name DT - said it was appropriate he was the one who thought of the nickname for me. Of course, then he insisted on being called Douglas Adams for the rest of the week until the novelty wore off, but - well, the whole DT thing stuck. So there you go. I know you were wondering who stuck me with that ridiculous nickname - answer: Douglas Adams.”

Jamie lay there, motionless and quiet as he continued telling her a few of the jokes Douglas had pulled on the entire division. His watch finally beeped quietly at him, informing him that his self-imposed time limit was up.

“And that’s my cue to go,” he murmured. “I’m going to drive up to London today. The plan is to go to the hospital first, visit Mabel and Corey, then go to Dora’s. Called her yesterday… she seemed surprised, but said she’s looking forward to meeting me. I have absolutely no idea what to say to her, but - well, I hope she accepts what I’m giving her.” He leaned forward and unhesitatingly pressed a kiss to the ruined skin of Jamie’s forehead. “Wish me luck. I’ll come by again soon, Rift willing.”

There was absolutely no change in her condition as he left. He hadn’t been expecting there to be.

It took nearly three hours to get to London, but the trip was thankfully smooth. If any of the others checked his GPS to see where he was, he’d be able to use the excuse that his sister had wanted to bring the kids to London for the day. It was, luckily, a Saturday, so the story would hold.

He spent an hour each with Mabel (who had suffered a brain injury and was as unresponsive as Jamie) and Corey (whose vitals spiked a little whenever Ianto said something amusing - he was convinced that Corey could understand him, even if he wasn’t responding). He hadn’t known either of them, since they’d been in completely different divisions of Torchwood London. Still, after what had happened, he thought he could be forgiven for claiming some small form of kinship with them. He left them both with comforting pats to their hands, and took a deep, settling breath once he’d stepped out of the hospital. Now came the hard part.

Dora was exactly as he remembered her to be. She’d insisted on his coming to her house, and had prepared some snacks for him. Almost like Rhiannon, he thought fondly, and she certainly acted like she was his older sister as well as Lisa’s. Dora had been the first to accept him into the Hallett family, and she’d more or less taken Ianto under her wing. She’d loved her baby sister fiercely and made no secret of it, and she’d seen before anyone else how happy Lisa and Ianto had been together.

She was also very blunt.

“Have to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she said once they’d made themselves comfortable.

“Still don’t believe in small talk, I see,” Ianto replied dryly.

“Waste of time,” she said dismissively. “You holding up okay?”

“Well enough,” he said. She squinted at him suspiciously.

“Really,” he said unconvincingly.

“Don’t sit there and lie to me, kiddo,” she said sternly.

“There are good days and there are bad days,” he said solemnly.

“Which one’s more?” she asked.

He gave her a faint smile. “Used to be all bad, and then the good started creeping in and then it started taking over.”

“And now?” she asked, with that annoying perceptiveness that had been the first thing he’d noticed about her.

“Fifty-fifty,” he said. “Just - things that have been happening. It’s a little confusing.”

“Work?” she asked, and he nodded silently. Lisa’s family had been fed the standard ‘Special Operations’ line that most Torchwood operatives used. It allowed them to beg off any explanation of their jobs, since they could cite confidentiality agreements. With his own family, he’d pretended to be a civil servant, because a) he didn’t want them to worry and b) he didn’t think they’d believe he was in Special Ops anyway - but with the Halletts, he’d been Lisa’s colleague in Special Ops.

Dora sighed heavily, shaking her head and turning reproachful eyes on him. “Gone back to the same old crap, eh?” she said.

“It actually is slightly important, what we do,” Ianto pointed out with a smile.

“So you say,” Dora retorted, but she was grinning back. “Have you met anyone new?”

Ianto hesitated just long enough for Dora to roll her eyes and pat his hand. “Please, hon. We both know Lisa’d smack your pretty arse if you spent the rest of your life moping after her. It’s been a year. No one’s gonna blame you if you’ve moved on.”

“Some would say a year’s too short a time to fall in love again,” Ianto said. Dora’s eyes widened.

“Real love then,” she asked, intrigued, and Ianto flushed.

“It’s - complicated,” he tried. Dora glared at him.

“It’s my boss,” he blurted out.

“Oh,” Dora said. “Yeah, that’s always complicated. What’s she like?”

Ianto turned even redder. “Uh.” He cleared his throat. “He, actually.”

Dora choked.

“Oh, don’t,” Ianto said in absolute mortification, covering his face with his hands so he wouldn’t have to look at the amusement on Dora’s face. “I’ve never been with a guy before, okay?”

“Oh, honey,” Dora laughed. “Isn’t twenty-five a bit late to be having a sexual identity crisis?”

“You’d think so,” Ianto complained, regardless of the fact that it wasn’t an altogether accurate statement. He’d looked plenty, but had never acted on any desires. Not after Dafydd.

Dora finally managed to get her laughter under control and patted Ianto’s knee reassuringly. “Relax, hon. I don’t mind, and I really doubt Lisa would either.” She paused, then giggled and asked, “So, have you two… you know?”

Ianto took his hands away from his face long enough to pin her with a thoroughly ineffective glare. “That,” he enunciated clearly, “Is none of your business.”

“So… yes, then,” she said, nodding sagely. Ianto groaned and hid his face again to the tune of Dora’s renewed mirth. Eventually her laughter died down again and they spent a few minutes in comfortable silence.

“Are you happy with him?” she asked eventually. Ianto bit his lip thoughtfully.

“I don’t actually know,” he finally said. “I mean - I know how I feel about him, but not the other way around. He’s - well, a bit of a player, never tried to hide it or anything.”

“He’s not -” Dora started, but Ianto cut her off.

“No,” he said. “He’s not exactly using me or anything. I mean, he does like me, I know that much. And in some ways, I am important to him. I just don’t know how exactly. There’s this other colleague we have, and the way he looks at her sometimes, I just - I don’t know. And,” he sighed, leaning back tiredly. “He’s had to leave for a while now, and I guess I’ve had too much time to think about all this, and I’ve come up with a few things I’m going to have to talk to him about… except I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

“Which is driving you crazy,” Dora supplied. Ianto smiled at her.

“Yep,” he agreed. “Nothing for it but to wait, I guess.”

“Nothing says you gotta wait,” Dora insisted. “I know I don’t have the whole story, but it sure don’t sound like he’s been treating you right.”

“Sometimes he does, sometimes… I don’t know, it’s like I’m invisible,” Ianto mused out loud. “Which is one of those things we’ll have to talk about.”

Dora shook her head dubiously. “So long as you’re happy, hon,” she said. “But you know, anytime you want to talk…”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he assured her. “But, well, that isn’t actually why I came here today.” He slipped his hand into his pocket and absently played with the small box in it.

“One-year anniversary,” Dora said. “There’s gonna be a service at the church this evening. You want to come?”

“Yes,” Ianto said immediately. He’d likely have to push back his estimated time of departure, but it would be more than worth it.

“You can stay here till then if you like,” Dora said. “We’ll go together.”

Ianto gave her a shy smile and nodded acknowledgement.

“But that’s not why you’re here either,” Dora continued. “And I know you, kiddo. What brings you up here?”

“Well - Lisa, in a way,” Ianto said uncertainly. “I think I need to…” His voice trailed off as he struggled to find the words.

“Lay her to rest?” Dora asked, her voice oddly subdued and gentle. Ianto nodded wordlessly, fished the box he’d been fiddling with out of his pocket and gave it to Dora. She opened it and wasn’t quite able to hide the shock when she saw the elegant diamond ring in it. The surprise faded quickly, her eyes becoming suspiciously misty.

“You been carrying this around?” she asked, her voice thick.

“Every day for months and then I tried leaving it off for a while,” Ianto said. “It got a little easier leaving it behind, but most days I had to at least look at it for a while before I could get to work. I think -” he hesitated, then determinedly ploughed on. “I think it’s time I let that go.”

Dora sniffed and clutched the ring tightly. “Ianto, you’re a real sweetheart, you know that?” She gave him a watery smile, which he returned with an equally weak one of his own.

“I thought of burying it at Lisa’s grave,” he told her. “Except I don’t think Lisa would approve.”

“Total waste of a beautiful ring,” Dora agreed unsteadily. “She’d hate that.”

“So I thought I’d give it to someone else,” Ianto said. “Uh - obviously not another partner - but someone who’d understand what Lisa meant to me.”

Dora stared at him mutely, biting her lower lip in a clear attempt not to cry.

“I don’t know if you want it,” Ianto said in a very small voice. “I was hoping you would. I thought - I thought if you got married, if you had kids, you could pass it down.”

“Family heirloom,” Dora croaked out, blinking furiously and dashing the tears from her eyes. “Oh, Ianto, that’s a gorgeous thought.” She got up from her seat and re-settled herself next to him, wrapping her arms around him in a surprisingly maternal gesture. “Are you sure about this?”

Ianto nodded silently into her shoulder. He still had the memories, and it was easier and easier every day to think of Lisa without pain. He’d loved her so much, and he’d never pretend otherwise. Loving Jack didn’t take away from what he’d felt for her, but it was past time he faced up to the fact that she was gone for good. Unbidden, the memory of seeing her in the Hub, the false vision of her exhorting him to open the Rift, rose to mind. Instead of ignoring it as he normally would, he let the memory come, accepted it, and then let it drift back to wherever it’d come from. Dora’s arms were warm and sheltering, and he let the heartache slowly ebb away.

The rest of the day was spent reminiscing about Lisa and catching up (carefully avoiding any mention of work). Dora insisted that Ianto keep in better contact with her and he gladly agreed. He’d very nearly forgotten how easy it was to relax with her. He enjoyed her company even more than his own sister’s, a fact which made him feel almost guilty.

The memorial service began at six that evening. Ianto hadn’t been inside a church for a very long time - Torchwood had a way of making you lose your faith - but it was surprisingly comfortable. He talked to Lisa’s family (Dora showed them the ring and explained what Ianto wanted, and Mr Hallett surprised them all by crying openly) and by the time he left that night, he felt completely secure in the knowledge that they didn’t hate him for surviving where their Lisa had died. It had been a worry of his, the past year, and he’d been terrified of the possibility that a family he’d grown to love (even more than his own) might now hate him.

Of course, they didn’t know the whole story. It was possible they might change their minds about him if they’d known of the month of pain Lisa had endured before dying that final time. Whatever their reaction might have been to the truth, it wasn’t something he’d ever know.

He got home at two o’clock. There was a message on his answering machine at home - “Just so you know, Gwen found a note you dropped yesterday and Owen has spent all day devising babysitting jokes to inflict on you tomorrow. We missed you today - see you tomorrow!” Tosh said in a tinny voice - which he listened to and then deleted, smiling faintly. He set his alarm, resigned to the fact that he’d only get a few hours of sleep, undressed, and almost immediately fell asleep.

It was hard pulling himself out of bed the next morning, but he finally managed it. The still-vivid bruises were safely hidden under a charcoal suit, and a few strong cups of coffee woke him up sufficiently - he’d be able to act normal. It was a terribly clichéd thing to think, but he felt a lot lighter than usual, as if sorting out his feelings for Jack and Lisa both had rid him of some invisible burden he hadn’t known he’d been yoked to. Oh, there was all manner of unresolved things he had to deal with still, but -

Before he left for work, he found the little scraps of paper that he’d popped into a tin and left in the back of his wardrobe. He smoothed out the creases and read the words over a few times before replacing them and leaving with a smile on his face.

8) Scarily intelligent.
How did you know I like my tea honey-sweetened? Biscuits were good. Look in the fridge.
15) Always knows how to make me feel better.
3) So incredibly brave.
21) Has an amazing ass! V. impt!

The others were evidently surprised at the good mood Ianto was in that day. Owen theorised that one of the aliens Ianto had ‘visited’ two days ago had taken a liking to him and he’d finally gotten laid, Gwen chastised him for being an insensitive dolt, and Tosh was conspicuously silent, although she took to watching Ianto with disconcerting intensity. Ianto thoroughly ignored their antics, choosing instead to go about his duties as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

As he tossed Myfanwy a little piece of chocolate as a treat, he thought to himself that really, nothing was out of the ordinary. He’d finally regained some semblance of footing, that was all.

The team’s confusion provided him with entertainment for the day, anyway. Misty had also cheered up some, sensing that her adoptive human had finally broken out of his despair. She’d actually given him some space that day, as if sensing her constant artificial touches of cheerfulness wouldn’t be necessary anymore to keep him going.

Myfanwy butted his leg curiously, and Ianto bent to pet his beak. It actually felt like things were coming back together.

Of course, now that I’ve thought that… this would be the perfect time for Jack to come back, Ianto reflected wryly.

But Jack didn’t come back that day. No, it was just about a month later that Jack returned, beaming as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Ianto had expected Jack’s return to flip his world back upside down. He was pleasantly surprised to find that no such thing happened. After the initial amazement and blinding joy, he’d realised that the need wasn’t there anymore. Maybe he really was starting to put his life back together. One thing he did need to know though, was if Jack was planning on leaving again any time soon.

“I came back for you,” Jack said, looking him straight in the eye. Then, a significant heartbeat later, he glanced over at the rest of the team and added, “For all of you.”

Anyone else might have taken it as a brush-off. Ianto added the moment to the new List he’d started keeping roughly a month ago. Whether the List was accurate or not would be something he’d have to ask Jack, when he got the chance. He remained quiet as the team grilled Jack, their anger barely suppressed. Observant blue eyes took in the minute flinches when someone came too close, the way Jack was constantly scanning for threats, checking the exits, unconsciously trying to ensure he had a clear line to them. Wherever Jack had been, it hadn’t been easy.

Came the whirlwind that was John Hart, and Ianto spontaneously decided that he utterly adored Gwen, if only in comparison to Hart. Everything about the other man screamed wrong! to Ianto, but what was he supposed to say? “I know you think he’s cute and he was an old partner-in-every-way to you, Jack, but I have a feeling he’s up to no good,” perhaps - oh, that would really go over well.

Ruthlessly, he squashed the jealousy that threatened to flare when Jack pulled Gwen aside to talk to her privately. Well. He’d gone for the important one, right off the bat. He certainly had his priorities straight. Ianto had thought he’d sorted out that whole problem of jealousy already - evidently not well enough, though.

Talk first, decide later, he reminded himself, but was nonetheless relieved when it was decided that he’d be paired with Jack. The relief lasted until they got into the car and realised that they had nothing to say to each other. They sat in awkward silence all the way to the building they had to check out, but after the first few minutes, Ianto tuned out, obsessively going through his list of why he liked Gwen. It always helped to remind himself of the fact that he didn’t, in fact, hate her.

He couldn’t quite suppress the discomfort he felt around Jack, though. He needed so badly to talk to his Captain, just explain a few things, get a few explanations in turn so that he could finally make up his mind. He’d already planned for all eventualities, and all he needed was Jack’s blessing to go ahead with what he suspected would be the final outcome. And John bloody Hart had to get in the middle of all this. Work was hardly the place to discuss anything of a personal nature, and so Ianto shelved the desire to simply ignore Hart and talk to Jack. Later. It would have to be later.

Jack, naturally, sent that plan flying out the window.

“Oh yeah. Loving that office feel,” he commented as they got to the top floor. “I always get excited in these places.”

Shut up, Jack, Ianto begged silently.

“To me they’re exotic,” Jack explained, and despite himself, Ianto filed away the off-hand, apparent joke as one more morsel of information. “Office romances… photocopying your butt.” Oh yes, naturally. “Well, maybe not your butt, but while we’re here, why don’t we photo -”

“The Rift,” Ianto interrupted pointedly. “Was active at these coordinates, approximately two hundred feet off the ground. That means this floor, or the roof.”

A long silence, as he continued rifling through the papers on the desk, absently taking in the work information that had been left out. You never knew when something might come in useful.

“How are you, Ianto?” Jack asked, and something in the way he said the words made Ianto shiver.

“All the better for having you back, sir,” he said, attempting to distance himself. Not now, not now -

“Can we maybe drop the ‘sir’ now? I mean, while I was away, I was thinking, maybe we could… you know, when this is all done… dinner, a movie…”

Ianto tried very hard to keep moving naturally and not freeze where he was standing. He couldn’t quite help the stutter though. “Are y-you asking me out on a date?” he asked, thoroughly failing to keep the incredulity out of his voice. That was something they’d never done before.

“Interested?” Jack asked, apparently nonchalant, but now that Ianto was actually listening, he could hear the tremors in Jack’s voice, the uncertainty and desperation that seemed such a match for his own. It had been obvious all this while, he realised; he simply hadn’t wanted to hear it because it would have been too hard to deal with at that moment. How much more had he missed at other times -

“Well - a-as long as it’s not in an office,” he managed to get out. “Some fetishes should be kept to yourself.” Mind awhirl with what he’d just discovered, he turned back to his search.

“Looks like we’ll have to go through every drawer, bin and plant-pot,” Jack said light-heartedly, and god, how had he missed that nervousness all this time? Blind, blind, blind.

“Right,” Ianto said, straightening. “I’ll do this floor - don’t want you getting over-excited.” He didn’t have to look to know that Jack was trying to puzzle out if there had been any sarcasm behind that line, and he had to hide a smile of his own that wanted to break free. “You take the roof; you’re good on roofs.”

Jack accepted his directives without question. Ianto allowed himself a brief smile, which quickly faded as he remembered exactly why he and Jack were there.

“Jack,” he said before his Captain could leave. “Why are we helping him?”

And there was that resolution he remembered, genuine this time and not a front. “He’s a reminder of my past,” Jack said firmly. “I want him gone.”

Not a good reminder, then. So much for partners-in-every-way.

“By the way,” Jack asked, the insecurity back in his voice. “Was that a yes?”

“Yes,” Ianto replied almost before Jack could finish his question. “Yes.” He could practically feel the grin on Jack’s face, and then his Captain had gone through the doors and he could focus on - on the sound of Jack singing as he left, “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You,” of all songs, the bloody great prat -

He was in a considerably better mood as he returned to his search.

It didn’t last long.

Captain Jack Harkness fell two hundred feet in three-point-five seconds. It was just enough time to wonder if his Ianto was safe, and vow to destroy John Hart if he wasn’t.

Ianto was safe. As was the rest of the team, though poor Owen was suffering from yet another bullet wound. But they were alive, and so he gave John Hart the chance to leave. Last chance, though he didn’t tell John that.

“Hope he never comes back,” Jack murmured, too quietly for anyone else to hear.

“Okay,” Owen growled, obviously exhausted. “I need to go patch this fucking thing up.”

“We need to avoid ourselves today,” Jack pointed out. “Can you hide the blood and all long enough to get to a hotel?”

“Jacket’ll hide most of it,” he said, and suited word to action by wrapping it around his wound. The fieldwork he’d already performed had more or less stopped the blood flow, so he wasn’t in any immediate danger. Besides, Jack thought morbidly, if Owen hadn’t keeled over already from all the running around, he wasn’t likely to do so any time soon.

“Should we go somewhere else?” Gwen asked, wincing as she stretched. The toxin’s effects were still lingering in her system, making her ache all over.

“We don’t necessarily need to go far,” Jack said thoughtfully. “So long as we avoid areas we knew we were in.” He looked over at Ianto. “What d’you think?”

Ianto blinked in mild surprise at being asked. “I’d rather be somewhere close,” he admitted. “Just in case.”

“So we go back to Cardiff Bay,” Jack mused out loud, then grinned at the looks on their faces. “Okay, get back to the SUV. I’ll book us into a hotel and we can hide out for the day, get some rest.”

“Sure you don’t want me to handle the bookings, sir?” Ianto asked, watching as the other three obediently trundled over to the car. The day had definitely taken its toll on them.

“You always do that,” Jack said gently. Ianto turned to look at him quizzically. “You always look after us,” he elaborated, reaching up to cup Ianto’s cheek in one hand, slowly running a thumb over the stubbled skin. “Let me spoil you for once.”

Ianto closed his eyes and leaned into the tender touch. So unlike him, he thought instinctively, but almost immediately retracted the statement. This was like Jack, the soft, quiet part of him that came out only when he thought Ianto was asleep, or not paying attention, the part that hid most of the time because it wasn’t safe to let it out too often, wasn’t safe to show himself to most people.

“All right,” he murmured, refusing to open his eyes. The feeling of Jack’s thumb moving over his cheekbone was almost hypnotic. “Don’t feel like you owe us anything, though.”

“Got a lot to make up for,” Jack said with a crooked grin, watching as Ianto slowly relaxed under his touch.

“If that’s true, so do we,” Ianto insisted. “I know I do, at any rate. There’re so many things I wanted to say to you. So many things I have to apologise for. I - I’m so sorry, Jack, for everything that I’ve done.”

That gentle hand stilled in its movements. Ianto opened his eyes and found Jack staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.

“Jack?” Ianto murmured in bemusement.

“Oh, Yan,” Jack whispered, something like incredulity and happiness mingling on his face. “You… beautiful, wonderful creature.” He spoke haltingly, as if trying to remember scripted lines. Ianto felt a faint echo of uneasiness traverse down his spine. “So full of surprises.”

The uneasiness metamorphosed into a feeling of déjà vu, and Ianto stared at Jack, wide-eyed with surprise. Jack leaned in and pressed a kiss to Ianto’s cheek.

“Later, sweetheart,” he promised. “I’ll explain things to you. For now…” He glanced sideways at the SUV. “You’d best decide how to fend off the others when you get to the car - bet they’ll be, uh, curious. I’ll make the bookings now.”

“Share a room?” Ianto asked impulsively.

Jack fished his phone out of his pocket and studied it forlornly. It had snapped practically in half, its innards hanging out pathetically. Ianto silently offered his own phone to Jack, stepping into Jack’s personal space in the same movement. Jack took the phone, then wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist, leaning against him with a contented sigh.

“You’re sure?” he asked Ianto’s neck.

“Yep,” Ianto assured him.

“King? Two beds?”

“Two beds.”

Jack’s lips twitched against Ianto’s skin. “Thought so,” he commented, smiling.

“You’re not upset?” Ianto asked cautiously.

“Nope,” Jack told him. “So long as you’re with me.”

Ianto thought about that for a moment. “Long as you’ll have me, Jack,” he said with utmost sincerity. Jack’s arms tightened around him briefly; then he let go and nudged Ianto towards the SUV.

Jack’s prediction about how the others would react proved well-founded. Ianto dealt with their questions (“Oh for Chrissakes, tea-boy, you’re already letting him into your pants?” “How could you just let him - after he left us like that?” “Ianto, are you sure about this?”) through the simple expedient of ignoring them. He lay back in the front seat, closed his eyes and focused on the memory of Jack’s hand on his cheek, big and warm and comforting. It kept him sufficiently distracted until Jack himself returned, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

“Okay. Owen, you’re sure none of you need outside medical attention?” he asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

“Yeah,” Owen said. “I got lucky - bullet didn’t hit anything vital and I haven’t lost that much blood. Just want to clean it out some, is all… and I could use some painkillers. The rest can wait a day.”

“Tosh? Gwen?” Jack asked.

“I’m fine,” Tosh piped up.

“Sore, but otherwise fine,” Gwen said.

“Okay, good,” Jack said as he reversed and then pulled smoothly onto the road. “So I’ve gotten us all rooms at a hotel near the Bay - lucky break, actually, I wasn’t expecting enough rooms to be available there, but there was a last-minute group cancellation. Room service, spa treatments, whatever you want; charge it all to your room. Pamper yourselves.”

“Abusing the Torchwood accounts, are we?” Owen asked dryly.

“What else are they there for?” Jack asked flippantly, eyes focused on the road.

“You really shouldn’t,” Ianto said, also looking straight ahead.

“Especially since Ianto’s the one who’ll have to sort out the finances,” Gwen put in.

“And he already does so much work,” Tosh added unhappily.

“I mean it,” Ianto insisted. “You really shouldn’t.”

“Stop it,” Jack said, reaching out to squeeze Ianto’s shoulder reassuringly. “And you lot - I’ll handle all the finances myself, okay? Relax. No work out of this for any of you.”

The promise seemed to reassure them, and Owen fell into a light doze as they drove on. It didn’t take long to get to the hotel, which elicited a few dropped jaws when the team realised what their destination was.

“St David’s,” Tosh breathed incredulously. “Really?”

“Yep,” Jack said cheerfully, ushering them into the hotel lobby. “For the spa, see. Got us all spa packages, even if you don’t end up using them. Wait here; I’ll go check us in.”

Ianto looked around the lobby thoughtfully. The others chattered quietly about their plans (collapse and sleep the day away, get as many spa treatments as possible, go to the pool, have dinner at the restaurant) and looking quite thoroughly happy at how they’d be spending their unexpected day off. Knowing what he did, though, Ianto was feeling a little guilty about the amount Jack was paying. And exactly what strings had Jack pulled to get the hotel to allow them to check in at this time?

“Here we go, kids,” Jack announced, rejoining them and passing out a card-key to each of them. “Might want to buy a fresh set of clothes from the shops to last you the day. I’m guessing I don’t have to remind you it’s not a good idea to venture out of the hotel.” He fixed Owen with a stern look. “That said, tell me if there’s anything wrong with you and we’ll get you to a hospital.”

“Fine, fine,” Owen said, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. I have a date with a bed.” They started towards the lifts, Tosh glancing back uncertainly at where Jack and Ianto were still standing together.

Ianto flipped the card-key he was holding around, spinning it between his fingers. He gave Jack a severe look, but Jack simply smiled in response.

“Very lucky we got rooms here,” Ianto said blandly. “And that they let us check in now.”

“Helpful people here,” Jack replied innocently. “Ready to go up?”

“You’re not charging these to Torchwood, are you?” Ianto asked.

Jack laughed outright at that. “Stop that, you,” he said teasingly, taking Ianto’s arm in his and steering him towards the lifts. “How do you always manage to read my mind, anyway?”

“I know everything,” Ianto told him flatly. “These are going on your personal account?”

“One of my accounts,” Jack admitted cheerfully. “But look - I’ve had plenty of time to build up a nest egg.” They entered the lift and he waited until the door had closed before continuing in a low voice. “Besides, back with the Time Agency, I specialised in twentieth through twenty-second century Earth. I know the major companies to invest in, when the stock crashes are going to occur, all that stuff.”

“Tactical advantage,” Ianto said, raising an eyebrow and wondering exactly what this mysterious Time Agency had been about.

“Yeah, well, it’s gonna have to last me quite a while,” Jack replied with a sigh. “But the point is, I’ve got enough to spend on you - all of you - so let me do this just once, okay?”

“Once,” Ianto conceded, and Jack gave him a brilliant smile. “Are you too tired to talk now?” he asked. The lift doors opened and Jack pulled him out into the corridor.

“I could talk,” Jack said. “Though I think we’ll both be in a better frame of mind after a couple hours of sleep?” He looked at Ianto inquisitively.

“Fair enough,” Ianto agreed.

They found their room without any difficulty. Ianto entered it first and stopped dead in his tracks; Jack closed the door, turned, and smacked straight into his back.

“What?” he asked, voice muffled by dint of the fact that his mouth was smashed against Ianto’s neck.

“It’s… nice,” Ianto said lamely. Jack wrapped his arms around Ianto’s waist, peering over his shoulders.

“Hm. Is, at that,” he commented, taking in the room. As he’d been promised, there were cocktails waiting for them, along with an arrangement of chocolates and strawberries. The room itself was done up in neutral, calming shades of brown and cream, and radiated an understated elegance.

“Cosier than I thought it would be,” Ianto mused. Jack kissed the side of his neck before letting go.

“Bed?” he asked.

Ianto rolled his shoulders experimentally. “I’m for a shower first,” he said. Hot water might help him relax. “You?”

“I’m for collapsing now,” Jack quipped. Ianto impulsively kissed him on the lips, a short, sweet, chaste touch.

“Good night, then,” he said.

“You too,” Jack said. He watched as Ianto found a robe and vanished into the bathroom, then licked his lips experimentally. It was probably his imagination, but he rather fancied he could still taste Ianto on them.

Ianto emerged from his shower to find that Jack had already burrowed into one of the beds. One of the cocktails had been finished, and a few pieces of chocolates were missing from the arrangement. Jack’s clothes were tossed haphazardly over the back of a chair. Better than on the floor, Ianto thought as he picked up the greatcoat and shook it straight. There wasn’t anywhere to hang it up properly; he’d have to fold it loosely and leave it on the chair or dresser, perhaps -

His fingers stilled in their dexterous movements as he frowned at the rumpled state of the coat. It hadn’t quite torn, but the tough material had definitely been beaten up recently. Almost like it had been abraded on something rough, he thought, running his hand over the thick, familiar cloth.

Ianto glanced over at the lump of blankets on the bed. Jack seemed to be completely out of it. Carefully, Ianto folded the greatcoat, then all the other clothes, and left them atop the dresser. His own clothes made a second bundle next to Jack’s, the two piles tilting into each other. He brought his cocktail over to the window, sipping it slowly as he took in the view. The alcohol warmed him, and he was slightly more relaxed by the time he’d finished it. Popping a strawberry in his mouth, he wandered over to Jack’s bed, looking down at the motionless lump thoughtfully. He perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, and when Jack didn’t move at the slight shifting of the mattress, reached up and pulled the covers down carefully.

Jack hadn’t been faking after all; he was sound asleep, not so much as shifting as Ianto drew the quilt down. He was lying on his stomach, revealing sickly green-yellow bruises all down his back. Ianto ghosted a hand over them, brows pulling into an unhappy frown. Why hadn’t any of them noticed this? The bruising was extensive enough that Jack had to have been in pain earlier, but he hadn’t done anything to telegraph that pain. It was easy enough to put together the pieces now: Jack had died (Hart had had something to do with it), the death had injured his back (probably more), he’d come back to life but he hadn’t healed completely.

If I’m tired, or I’ve just come back from another death, it takes longer.

Ianto gently pulled the covers back up around Jack, tucking him in as if he were a child. Jack sighed faintly, pain-lines still creasing what Ianto could see of his face. His mind whirling with questions, Ianto retreated to the other side of the room, switching off the lights before shucking his bathrobe and crawling into bed.

Two hours later, he bolted upright in bed, heart hammering violently. His breath came in short gasps, and it took a few minutes for him to calm down. When he was finally able to think through the blinding fear, he realised that he had absolutely no reason to be panicking. More than that… it wasn’t his fear he was feeling.

His gaze snapped to the dark lump he could barely make out across the room. He slid off the bed hurriedly, switching on the bed-side lamp and wincing as the light struck his eyes. Keeping his back to the lamp let his eyes adjust slowly while allowing him to still see Jack, who apparently hadn’t budged from the position he’d fallen asleep in. Reflexively, he tested his mental shields, which were still strong and should have been able to keep any external emotion from influencing him.

“Jack,” Ianto called out quietly. No movement. “Jack, wake up.” Still no movement. He shook Jack’s shoulder lightly. The reaction was immediate. Jack fairly catapulted off the bed in an attempt to get away, but got tangled in the sheets and crashed hard. Ianto winced at the loud thud as Jack hit the floor.

“Jack?” he asked, keeping his distance in case Jack hadn’t come around properly yet. Dazed blue eyes peered up at him.

“Yan?” Jack asked, wincing as he tried to pull himself up.

“Yep.” Ianto came around the side of the bed and helped Jack up, pushing him back down on the bed and straightening the blankets for him.

“What happened?” Jack asked softly as Ianto worked.

“You were having a nightmare,” Ianto told him.

Jack mulled that over for a moment. “Oh,” he eventually said. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes,” Ianto said. “But it doesn’t matter.” He reached around Jack and re-arranged the pillows, then nudged Jack into lying down. He went over to the lamp and turned it off, then slid into bed next to Jack.

“Yan,” Jack said slowly. “This is my bed.”

“Yes, Jack, it is,” Ianto replied, shifting to get comfortable.

“You’re in it,” Jack pointed out inanely.

“Why yes Jack, I am,” Ianto said patiently. “Budge over, would you?”

Jack obediently slid to the side and turned, letting Ianto spoon up against his back.

“Yan?” Jack said after a few minutes.

“Yes?”

“You’re naked.”

Ianto huffed a breath of laughter into Jack’s hair. “So are you. Is that a problem?”

“Nope, no problem,” Jack said quickly, snuggling back into Ianto’s hold. “G’night.”

“Good night,” Ianto replied. He waited until Jack’s breathing had evened out somewhat; only then did he allow himself to drift off into sleep as well.

Jack had two more nightmares that night (day?). After the last one, he refused to go back to sleep, and chose to have a long shower instead. Ianto had wanted to stay up and wait for him, but exhaustion won out. When Jack came back out, it was to find that Ianto had crashed completely, sleeping with lips slightly parted and his limbs sprawled in a distinctly ungraceful manner across the bed. He grinned and clambered back into bed. He had no intentions of going to sleep, but there was no way he was passing up on an opportunity to hold a naked Ianto.

Some hours later, Ianto finally woke up to find Jack curled comfortably against his side, apparently lost in thought.

“Penny for them,” he murmured, voice rusty with sleep.

“That I’m a lucky guy,” Jack said without budging. “Where’s my penny?”

Ianto laughed and nudged Jack lightly, extricating himself from his hold. “Give it to you later,” he promised, and shuffled off to the bathroom to use the toilet, wash his face, and grab a very quick shower. He wasn’t really feeling the effects of the previous day, which was always a good thing and which reminded him -

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he emerged from the bathroom. Then he stopped dead and suspiciously eyed the tray of drinks, breakfast items and fresh fruits that had mysteriously appeared in their room. Evidently, Jack had ordered room service, and whatever strings he’d been pulling were still in effect, if they’d responded that quickly.

“Pretty good,” Jack told the ceiling.

Ianto sat down next to him, reaching out for a slice of apple. “Your back?” he asked, watching as Jack closed his eyes and sighed.

“Mind-reader,” he muttered.

“Not really,” Ianto said. “I saw it yesterday.”

Jack rolled over onto his stomach, the movement bringing him flush up against Ianto’s legs. His back was completely unmarred, and Ianto ran a hand along the smooth skin thankfully.

“Took a lot longer to heal, didn’t it?” he asked.

“Suppose so,” Jack sighed.

Ianto recognised the signs and wondered if it was worth pushing. “Remember the first time we met?” he asked, smiling slightly.

Jack peered up at him blearily. “What, the Weevil?”

“Yep,” Ianto confirmed. “Thought you were a goner there when I saw it go for your neck.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the Man Who Can’t Die,” Jack said dryly. “Watch as blood is reabsorbed, bone is mended and death is cheated, all in an instant!”

Ianto bopped Jack lightly on the head. “Regular comedian, you are,” he grumbled, his Welsh accent thickening.

“What, you don’t think I could do the circus shtick?” Jack asked, laughing. “I think I’d manage pretty well though.”

Ianto gave him his best flat, unimpressed look.

“Time for that talk then?” Jack asked, pulling himself up into a sitting position. It occurred to Ianto that this ought to have felt much less comfortable than it was - neither of them had bothered with clothes yet and so they were lounging around stark naked, about to have a potentially serious relationship/life talk. And yet he felt completely at ease, which was probably the strangest thing about the entire situation.

“I think so, yes,” Ianto nodded.

“Where to begin,” Jack mused, leaning against the headboard.

“I’d say the beginning, but I’m not sure I know where that is,” Ianto replied. “How about we do the clichéd thing and take turns asking questions? And we’re both free not to answer, but if we do, it has to be honest.”

“Deal,” Jack agreed. “You first?”

Ianto smiled, recognising the peace offering for what it was. “What’s the Time Agency?” he asked.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Not the question I expected. Okay. Round about the middle of the forty-fifth century, time travel becomes more commonplace amongst humankind. Mind you, by then we’ve already been travelling around time using technology from other species, but that’s when it suddenly becomes really popular, and with that you get people misusing it in all ways. So you had crooks who went back in time to steal precious items that were scarce or too well-guarded in their own time. And they invariably end up screwing with the timelines and you’d get these ruptures in the space-time continuum.”

“Not really good for the universe,” Ianto mused, biting into a warm, buttery croissant with relish.

“Nope,” Jack agreed. “So the Time Agency was created to police the use of time travelling devices. Had to make sure no one crossed their timelines and all. I was recruited to join the Agency right out of school, and I worked for them for quite a while. And now, according to John, it’s been disbanded - well, ‘now’ is a relative term, I guess.”

“Why did -” Ianto began, then stopped abruptly. “No, sorry, not my turn. Have a question for me?”

Jack smiled wanly, sliding over to snag a bread-roll. The movement conveniently brought up nearer to Ianto, who obligingly wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders and let the older man lean against his side.

“Okay, this one’s been bugging me for a while,” Jack admitted around a mouthful of bread, before freezing at the look Ianto gave him. He finished the roll in two bites, swallowed, and continued. “Why did you guys go to the Himalayas?”

Ianto nearly choked on his fruit juice. “Ah. Right. Gwen answered the phone and agreed to do it when Prime Minister Saxon asked.”

Jack went completely rigid in Ianto’s hold for a brief second. Ianto frowned uncertainly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Jack replied. “So it was… his fault?”

“Well, the request was for us to go to the Himalayas and check out something there,” Ianto said, deciding to let the matter drop. “We weren’t given much information though, and I knew there was something strange about the whole affair, but I couldn’t quite think right. I don’t think any of us could. It took actually getting to the Himalayas for my head to clear and to realise that Sa - that he was trying to get rid of us for some reason. So we turned right round and came back and found that we’d just missed you.”

“Ships in the night,” Jack said.

“Entirely so,” Ianto replied with a nod. “Why did you leave the Time Agency?”

Jack frowned. “Because they took two years of my life from me. They’re the ones that perfected the amnesia pill, you know. What we use in Torchwood is just based off what I remember, and it’s definitely imperfect. What they had worked a lot better than our pills… there’s no chance of breaking through the pill’s effects in my case.”

“Might have been bad,” Ianto suggested mildly.

“Might have, yeah,” Jack agreed. “But I think I’d rather have had the memories anyway.” His voice trailed off, and then he visibly shook himself out of his thoughts. “Anyway, I woke up with two years gone, and left right after that. Became a conman and fraudster until I met the Doctor.” He gave Ianto a ghost of a grin. “I wasn’t a very nice person back then.”

Ianto made a sound of understanding, looking expectantly at Jack.

“What - oh! Right. Ah - tell me about your family,” Jack said. Ianto stared at him blankly.

“My family?” he repeated. Jack nodded and the expression on Ianto’s face morphed into disbelief. “Right. Well, Dafydd’s the first child, then Rhiannon, then me. Tad died when I was fifteen. You know he took over my grandfather’s tailor shop?” He waited for the nod, then went on. “Well, with the debts and all we weren’t in very good financial shape at the time. Soon as I got my GCSEs I started working odd jobs. Dafydd… well, we weren’t close to begin with, but around then we drifted apart completely. And Mam remarried a couple of years after Tad’s death, round about when I was seventeen. I don’t really get along with my stepfather, and Mam and I… ah, had words about her reasons for remarrying -”

“Reasons?” Jack interrupted.

Ianto hesitated. “The root of it,” he said slowly. “Is that I don’t think she married William because she was in love with him.” He paused, but Jack didn’t say anything. “I think - I still do - that he was convenient. He had money, she liked him well enough and… well, I don’t think she knew how not to be married.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, well,” Ianto said with a shrug. “Naturally she didn’t take too kindly to me thinking that way. And I could be wrong, of course. But once I had a bit of money saved up, I moved to London. I worked there for a bit, and eventually caught the attention of a senior researcher at Torchwood. He invited me to apply for a job; I got it, and promptly dropped off the radar as far as my family’s concerned.”

“You didn’t mention the other one - Rhiannon,” Jack prompted.

“She’s all right,” Ianto said. “We get along okay, I suppose. I mean, she talks and I listen, so it works out. I don’t know though - I’m okay with spending a few hours, maybe a day with her and her family, but… well, kids terrify me, to be perfectly frank. And so much of Rhiannon’s life now revolves around her kids, so there’s not much I’ve got in common with her. And her husband - god.”

Jack grinned. “Don’t like him?”

“He means well, I suppose,” Ianto sighed. “But he’s a bit - much, sometimes.”

Jack laughed into Ianto’s chest. “I’m pretty sure you’ve thought that about me at times.”

“Never,” Ianto replied blandly. “Done?”

“Yep,” Jack said, taking a deep breath. “Shoot.”

“Where did you go?” Ianto asked. He didn’t need to elaborate.

“The end of the universe,” Jack said softly. “Literally, I mean.” He looked up at Ianto, who nodded as if it were a perfectly normal statement to make. “Everything had died - all the stars had burned out - we were on the one planet that had a surviving atmosphere, with the last remnants of life. Humanity, as it turned out. We’re stubborn.”

Ianto ran his hand across Jack’s shoulder and down his arm. “Must have been hard,” he murmured.

“Oh, that was fine,” Jack said. “Died a few times. Electrocuted - I hate that - and there was the stat radiation - but other than that, pretty easy.”

“Other than that,” Ianto repeated flatly. Jack kissed the nearest available patch of skin, which happened to be Ianto’s collarbone.

“Had to be done,” he said. “Anyway, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what happened after that.”

Ianto could feel the uneasiness and outright fear building up in him, bypassing his shields as if they were nothing and sending adrenaline coursing through his own body. Consciously, he slowed his breathing, attempting to regulate his own reactions to a terror he didn’t feel.

“Give me the summary,” Ianto said. “No details for now.” He could feel some of the tension drain from Jack’s body, and he tightened his grip momentarily in reassurance.

“Summary… the Doctor, as it turned out, wasn’t the last of the Time Lords, his species,” Jack explained, the words spilling out in a hurry as if he were afraid to stop, afraid that if he did, he wouldn’t be able to start again. “There was one more, called himself the Master. He’d locked away his memories, but they were triggered and… well, he was crazy. Stole the TARDIS, regenerated - it’s a Time Lord thing, they can replace their bodies if they’re dying. He went back in time. We were able to get back to this time but we didn’t know where he was. Then we found out about his new body.”

“Saxon,” Ianto breathed in shock. Jack pulled back to stare at Ianto quizzically.

“You really are full of surprises, Ianto Jones,” he said thoughtfully. “Yeah, it was Saxon. He cannibalised the TARDIS, turned it into a paradox machine, and used it to bring the Toclafane to Earth and take over. He wiped out practically the entire population of Earth in a single year, but we were eventually able to stop him. Destroying the paradox machine meant time reverted back to the beginning, so that year… never happened.”

The pieces fell into place suddenly, slamming a picture into Ianto’s mind that he didn’t like one bit. The way Jack flinched when someone unexpectedly came too close, the way he always kept himself in the line of the nearest exit, his strange eagerness to treat them to this day at the spa, his sheer delight at seeing them, the way he was taking too long to heal, the nostalgic, almost yearning look in his eyes -

“He was holding you prisoner,” Ianto breathed. Jack sighed and melted against Ianto’s side.

“I wish I knew how your mind works,” he muttered. “That’s just spooky.”

“He was, wasn’t he?” Ianto asked, trying very hard to keep the absolute fury out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Jack admitted, not meeting Ianto’s eyes. “Discovering how fun it is to have a toy to play with that you can kill again and again and again.”

Ianto took a deep breath, then another, and another for good measure. It wasn’t helping.

“Yan?” Jack asked tentatively.

“I’m suppressing the urge to inflict great pain upon Saxon,” Ianto informed him solemnly. “I suppose it’s a good thing he’s missing - dead?”

“Completely,” Jack confirmed. Ianto sighed heavily into Jack’s hair.

“Something good, I suppose,” he muttered.

“‘Something good’ is coming back to you,” Jack corrected. “Alive.”

“Oh,” Ianto said. “I died, did I?”

“All of you did,” Jack told him. “You lasted the longest. When you died, I -” He stopped abruptly.

“Quick, ask me what my favourite colour is,” Ianto said.

Jack stared at him in utter confusion. “Er, what’s your favourite colour?” he asked tentatively.

“Blue,” Ianto told him. “Though I’m told I look good in red.”

“Oh, it’s definitely your colour,” Jack assured him. “That red tie you have - yum.”

“What if I got a red shirt, with a black suit and tie?” Ianto asked idly. Jack considered that mental image for a moment, then very slowly and deliberately licked his lips, looking Ianto directly in the eye. Ianto grinned and slid down the bed, ensuring as much contact as possible with Jack’s body.

“Ianto Jones, you bloody tempter,” Jack mock-growled, rolling over to straddle Ianto, who looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I swore I’d do this properly,” Jack continued, poking Ianto squarely in the belly and pulling a little yelp from him. “The whole dating thing, proper twenty-first century stuff, in order, so stop tempting me to mess up the order!”

Ianto couldn’t help laughing at the petulant tone Jack had adopted. “What if I want to go out of order?” he asked, wiggling his trapped hips as best he could. Jack’s warmth and solidity against him were doing interesting things to his libido.

“That’d be a first,” Jack snorted, but bent to catch Ianto’s lips in a distinctly non-chaste kiss. When they finally pulled apart, though, Jack tapped the end of Ianto’s nose reprovingly. “Behave,” he said, then stopped and looked thoughtful. “I can’t believe I’m saying that. To you!”

“Rather interesting reversal of roles,” Ianto observed as Jack started laughing. He smiled, watching in pleasure as Jack’s entire face transformed under the influence of genuine amusement. That happy expression begged to be kissed, of course, which led to some heated kisses and sly gropes before they finally separated again, coming to a silent mutual agreement not to take things any further… despite certain parts of their bodies taking a very definite interest in the proceedings.

They lay on the bed in a messy sprawl of entangled limbs for a while, simply luxuriating in the feeling of being skin-to-skin. Without, Ianto thought contentedly, sex being necessarily imminent. It was a novel sensation, and one he thought he quite liked.

“Whose turn is it?” Jack asked idly.

“Mine, I believe,” Ianto replied, and took a deep, bracing breath. “Where do we stand?”

Jack remained silent for a while, tracing lazy circles on Ianto’s belly with his fingertips. “I don’t like labels,” he eventually said. “Boyfriends, lovers, partners, whatever you want to call it, we’re that.” His hand stilled momentarily. “If, uh, you want that.”

“Oh,” Ianto said faintly. “Yes. I - yes.”

Jack smiled into Ianto’s chest. “Good. My turn. Why don’t you seem to hate me for leaving?”

“Because I don’t,” Ianto replied immediately. “I mean - it was hard dealing, but I couldn’t be angry at you - after what we did. Betraying you. Twice, in my case.”

A warm breath of air puffed over Ianto’s chest, making him shiver slightly. “Long forgiven, sweetheart,” Jack promised him, levering himself up so that he could meet Ianto’s eyes. “The first time - you were in love. The second, you were being manipulated. I don’t hold either against you.”

And once again, there was that feeling that Jack was reciting lines he’d memorised, that Ianto had heard all this before.

“Will you forgive yourself now?” Jack asked, staring intently at Ianto. Ianto stared back helplessly, the feeling of déjà vu making his skin crawl.

“You don’t have to answer that now,” Jack finally said, leaning up to kiss Ianto’s cheek. “But think about it.”

“All right,” Ianto murmured. “Why do I feel like we’ve had this conversation before?”

“I really want to know how your mind works,” Jack said absently. “We did have it, during that year - that never was.” He gave Ianto a reproving look. “You didn’t answer me back then, either.”

Ianto’s lips twitched. “Right.”

“Your turn,” Jack prompted.

Ianto took his time framing the question. He knew what he wanted to ask, but he wanted to leave things open-ended enough that Jack would elaborate on his answer instead of shutting down. And, if he were being completely honest with himself, he was a little nervous about what that answer would be. Just a little. Like the ocean’s a little wet.

“What… ah, how do you feel about Gwen?” he asked cautiously, uncharacteristically stumbling over the words. His nerves weren’t helped at all by the groan Jack stifled.

“I guess I don’t have to bother asking if you want the honest answer or the bullshit,” Jack mused, rolling off Ianto to stare at the ceiling.

“Nope,” Ianto agreed. “Honest, please.” Even if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“There are certain - things - that happened during that year,” Jack said slowly. “Things that made me want to come back to you. But when I did come back, when I saw you, I was… scared.”

“Scared,” Ianto said thoughtfully. It wasn’t a word he’d normally associate with Jack.

“Of what -” Jack began, then broke off. “I thought Gwen might be a safer option,” he admitted. “Easier to deal with when she -”

“Died,” Ianto filled in, and Jack smiled humourlessly.

“That,” he said. “I do care about her, and losing her would hurt, but not the way…”

Ianto bit his lip nervously, trying not to fidget as Jack seemed to consider his words.

“You… mean a lot to me, Ianto,” Jack said. “More than - more than I’m used to feeling.” He looked at Ianto ruefully. “It’s kind of scary.”

Ianto returned the look with a similar one of his own. “I can relate,” he said.

“I thought Gwen would be safer to love,” Jack continued. “Except she’s engaged to Rhys. Then I thought, hell, even John might be easier to love, except, uh, no way. Then John pushed me off that roof and on the way down all I could think of was if he’d hurt you.”

“He pushed you off the roof,” Ianto repeated, then shook himself. “Right, never mind that for now. Go on?”

Jack smiled faintly. “And I thought - what if he’s killed Ianto? What if I never get to see Ianto again? And it didn’t matter that I hadn’t told you any of this, it still hurt the same way I expect it will when you do - die.”

“And so…”

“And so,” Jack said. “With that very violent slap upside the head -”

“Oh god, that building was two hundred feet high,” Ianto muttered, looking slightly sick.

“Good thing the blood tends to get reabsorbed if it’s near enough,” Jack quipped. “Anyway, I decided that ‘safety’ can go to hell. It’s not worth it.”

“So we’re…” Ianto trailed off thoughtfully.

“We’re us,” Jack said firmly.

“That works,” Ianto agreed, and leaned over to kiss Jack. “Is that enough heavy conversation for now?”

“Yes,” Jack said fervently. “Pass the coffee, will you?”

“Probably cold by now,” Ianto said, but obligingly poured him a cup.

“Want to see if we can find a Jacuzzi later?” Jack asked, looking at Ianto suggestively. “You and me, alone…”

“We’re alone now,” Ianto pointed out.

“This is true,” Jack said thoughtfully. “Why am I not jumping you yet?”

“Because we haven’t done the date yet,” Ianto explained, finishing off the last of his neglected juice.

Jack sighed heavily, staring mournfully into his cool coffee. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was a masochist,” he muttered. Ianto bopped him lightly on the thigh.

“Use the time to… think,” he suggested. Jack looked up at him quizzically. “For instance,” he elaborated. “I have certain lists that I’d like to complete.” He gave Jack a significant look. It took a few moments for the light to dawn, but Ianto was pleased to see comprehension eventually steal across Jack’s face, along with a healthy dose of lust.

“Lists,” Jack repeated, grinning. “Yeah, I’ll get on those.”

Part Six