Satelite 5

Ianto woke earlier than he had the last couple of days and was confused by a sound he heard until he realised it was the shower going. Smiling at the reassurance afforded by having someone around in the house, he flopped back before levering himself out of bed to pad down to the kitchen and get breakfast and coffee started. He hummed as he worked and turned to smile at Jack as he arrived in the kitchen doorway, “Morning, Jack. Breakfast?”

“Definitely if you’re making it.” Jack hesitated, wondering if he should say something about his revelation of the night before, which had kept him awake all night, but as Ianto seemed to have forgotten or ignored it he felt it was best if he did the same. As he got plates and cutlery from their homes he joined in with the tune Ianto was humming and soon they were doing a two part harmony rendition of “Can You Feel the Love Tonight?” Life really didn’t get any better or more surreal. As they ate, Jack paused to reflect a moment, “You haven’t asked me why I’m still here at this time? Is that significant?”

“I guess, maybe, I don’t know. Why, are you off?” He tried to sound casual, but after yesterday the idea scared him.

“Not today, Tosh is in charge and they can hold the fort. But once they’ve gone, I’d like to go down there with you, if you want.”

“Why?”

The young man looked understandably nervous, so Jack was sure he’d made the right decision, “I thought you might like to go back there without them, first. Rather than have to do it for the first time with them all there.”

“In case I break down the minute I step in there?”

“I don’t expect for a minute that you will, but no one would blame you if you did. That is, assuming you want to come back?”

The captain suddenly looked nervous and uncertain, Ianto hadn’t really considered it and he told him so. Jack looked relieved, “So will you come tonight? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow?”

“Tonight. Thanks, Jack.” He added genuinely, “I was dreading going back there after… After what I did. Still am if I’m honest. Are you sure you want me back?”

Now it was Ianto’s turn to look uncertain as he sought reassurance, “I’m sure, Yan. What happened was all of our faults, yours for not trusting us and ours for not seeing, but we’ll get through it together, because that’s what we do, we’re a team and we help each other. And I’ll be there for you tonight if you need me.”

“Thank you.” Jack just smiled in response, and Ianto finally felt that it would come right eventually.

After another lazy day, this time of Computer Games (Jack had never even heard of the Sims!) and Jack’s fabulous cooking, Jack got a text from Tosh to tell him that she, Owen and Gwen were packing up for the night and going to the pub. When he’d read the message through he passed it to Ianto and studied the young man carefully. He was still pale and too thin but his eyes were brighter than they had been and the outward signs had vanished. Inwardly, however, the damage would take a lot longer to heal. His hand shook as the meaning of the message sank in, and his eyes, when they finally met Jack’s, were scared and searching. “We don’t have to do this now, if you’re not ready.” Jack offered softly.

“No, I need to do this. Because if I run from it, it won’t go away, and you can’t be here for me forever.”

Jack nodded and went to fetch their coats, helping the younger man to put his on. Younger, hah, that went without saying, didn’t it? His heart bled again at how much Ianto had had to suffer in such a short space of time and he respected him all the more for coping as well as he had. Jack couldn’t have coped as well.

There was a chill in the air as they stepped outside, so Ianto pulled his coat tighter around himself as he looked around for the SUV. To his surprise, however, the SUV was nowhere to be seen and Jack made his way instead to a classic sports car pulled up outside the house. As Jack went to unlock it and get in, all Ianto could do was stare. “Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Jack grinned at him

Ianto wasn’t a car person, but he could tell that yes, this was a very nice car. “Bloody hell, Jack.”

The captain laughed, “1964 E type Jag, series 1. Bought her new. Of course, back then I got around a lot more. I haven’t had a chance to take her out recently. Ask me nicely and I might take you for a spin.”

“How nicely would I have to ask?” He wondered aloud as Jack stroked, actually stroked the car.

“Not very,” he admitted wryly, “any excuse to have some fun. You coming?” The concern that Ianto had come to recognise over the last few days was back in his eyes.

“Yeah, coming. Although I wouldn’t complain if you went the long way round.”

“You’re telling me there’s a short way from here to the Hub?” Jack laughed as the engine started with a gorgeous noise, “Better get out of here before I annoy the neighbours.”

Ianto was surprised to discover that he enjoyed the drive to the Hub. Normally Jack’s driving put the fear of God in him, but now he knew that Jack drove the SUV like he drove the Jag, which didn’t work. It was too big, too unresponsive and, apparently, not fast enough. It was like a roller coaster, in that it was great fun, terrifying and at the same time it felt completely safe.

He found he was laughing as they got out in the car park they always used, where even he had never noticed the Jag sitting quietly in the corner until it was needed, “You’re not the Stig by any chance, are you?”

“Nah, they asked me, but I told them I didn’t have time.”

Ianto was impressed but suspicious, “Really?”

“No, sadly not. But it would be a cool story if it were true.”

“Are all your stories like that?” he asked accusingly

Jack put a hand on his heart in mock offence but he was grinning, “Actually they’re usually genuine. Maybe a bit embellished, because even my memory’s not good enough to recall events of a hundred years ago perfectly, but I’ve never told an outright lie. Apart form the one about being the Stig.”

“Hmmmm…”

“Honest!” Jack held up his hands and then did the scout salute, “Scout’s honour.”

“You were never a scout, Jack.”

Jack hid the thrill of delight at the fact that Ianto was still using his first name, even though they were sort of at work, “Says who?”

“You don’t know Black Crow Spirit. Every scout knows Black Crow Spirit.”

“You got me.” He laughed, enjoying the banter, “But I’m still telling the truth.”

“Fine, I believe you.” Ianto joined in with the laughter, trying to hide his fear at returning to the Hub, but Jack seemed to notice that more than if he’d shown it.

“Come on, you’ll be fine, I’ll help you.”

“Catch me when I fall?” He asked, looking Jack directly in the eye. All the older man did was nod once, but it was enough. Ianto turned towards the door and let Jack lead the way into the building that haunted his nightmares.

Once inside, Jack used his wrist strap to turn on all the lights ahead of them and let Ianto go ahead at his own pace. They had come in through the TI office, and the young man stopped at the hidden door, staring down the stairs lost in thought. When he finally spoke it was so quiet that Jack almost missed it, and he almost wished he had because the words tore him apart inside, “You were right, you should have shot me there and then.”

“Oh Ianto.” He breathed, shaking his head as he came to stand beside the young man and forced him to meet his eyes, “I could never do that, and no, I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

Ianto shook his head, “I was wrong.”

“Doesn’t mean that I wasn’t. Look, how about we were both wrong? And we can build on our mistakes, by which I do not mean make them bigger.” Ianto managed a small smile, although he was still fighting tears, “We have to keep fighting Ianto, because there’s always a point where it’s sink or swim, and at Torchwood it’s the moment we first step through the door.”

“Did you sink or swim Jack?”

“I sank.” He said honestly, “I had no one there to help me.”

“I’m glad I do then.” Ianto attempted a smile and was grateful when Jack just accepted it, even though he knew he’d seen through it. “God, we’ve only got to the doorway and already I’m stuck.” He was surprised to feel a hand slip into his own, but he squeezed it gently, reassured that his friend was there when he needed him.

He led the way down the stairs slowly and carefully, feeling his heart rate and breathing increase as they got closer to the Hub. When he finally stopped, unable to go any further, Jack’s hand was in his again, reassuring him and supporting him. This time he didn’t let go either, even when they were standing side by side in the Hub. His eyes sought out the Captain’s and he found concern and compassion, which gave him the strength to look around them.

Jack let Ianto go and watched as he went to stand in the middle of the Hub, looking around as if searching for something. He looked back, towards Jack but not at him, instead focusing on the cog door behind him, “I used to stop every time I reached that door to give myself time to become the person you all expected of me, but eventually it didn’t matter, because you never noticed me anyway.”

Jack wanted to go to him and hold him and tell him that he’d always noticed him, but this was something Ianto needed to work through on his own.

Now Ianto turned to the pool in the base of the Hub, where Jack had revived him with that kiss, “When I woke up, and found you kissing me…” now he looked at Jack, “Why exactly were you kissing me, sir?” The tone was accusatory but the slight smile took the sting out of his words.

“You were unconscious with no pulse and no breathing, it felt like a good idea.”

“You saved me, even though you should have shot me?”

“Got a problem with that?” now Jack sounded defensive, but Ianto’s smile disarmed him

“Thank you.” He replied simply, then turned back to the pool, taking a moment to slip back into the reflective mood he’d been in before the memory of Jack kissing him stole in. It was a hard memory to subdue, “I think I knew that you’d saved me, that I’d be dead without you, but I didn’t know yet if it was a good thing or not. I haven’t found something to live for yet, something to give me a reason for coming back.”

Jack wanted to go to him and kiss him again now and tell him that he would give Ianto something to live for if he needed him, but he knew that he needed to find it on his own.

Ianto now walked to the edge of the autopsy bay and looked down, smiling slightly at the fact that it was the only place in the Hub that Owen would keep properly clean without being pestered. Then he saw the drawer where Gwen and Owen had been trapped, and the place where Owen had stabbed Lisa and he had found her, believed she was dead. Where she’d nearly killed two of his friends.

He heard Jack following him at a distance and descended the stairs to kneel next to the spot where he’d found her. Owen had tried to apologise for killing her, for killing a monster, defending the world and doing his job. Even Ianto had been able to see that, so surely he had? There was now no sign that anything had happened; autopsy floors were designed to clean well, as were the walls, and her blood would have been washed clean in moments. The autopsy room was the best place for anyone to die from Ianto’s point of view; it was easy to clean and he wasn’t even allowed to do it. He realised he was slipping back into his work persona when he jumped and flinched at Jack’s hand on his shoulder, and he was surprised when he found a handkerchief pressed into his hand. Turning to settle against the wall, he stared at the handkerchief as he twined it between his fingers but he saw Jack’s feet lift off the floor as he seated himself on the autopsy table in his peripheral vision.

After a while he looked up again and had to blink several times to clear his vision of unshed tears before he could focus on Jack again. For the first time he looked properly into the depths of Jack’s eyes and he was scared by what he found in there. The depths of compassion, pain, love, anguish and time itself were reflected in Jack Harkness like they could be in no other human being. Only a Time Lord or other immortal could know that much emotion and not be consumed utterly by it.

Jack was the first to break the connection and looked away, as though embarrassed by what Ianto had seen in him, as though it were some weakness. The young man shook his head and looked down at his hands again, “It puts it into perspective a bit, knowing what you’ve lived through over the years and years and years. My problems seem insignificant.”

Jack didn’t move, “One man’s story within a tale of many men?” He quoted quietly, a tear escaped Ianto’s eye as he nodded, still not looking at the Captain. “That doesn’t make it any less important, Ianto.” He said gently, “In fact it makes it more important, because what Lisa lost, what you lost the chance to share with her, was the important things in life. Love, stability, a family and a home. And they’re things I can never have, because mine is the tale of many men, so I can’t do the small picture stuff. It hurts too much.”

His voice had sunk, as he was speaking, until the last sentence was barely a whisper, a breath that Ianto barely heard; but he heard it and felt his heart break for the older man’s sorrows, “You’ve still got to fight for it, because even if you can’t die, that doesn’t mean that you’ll live forever There comes a point where living becomes simply existing. Don’t ever reach that point Jack.”

“Who says I haven’t already?”

Ianto finally met Jack’s eyes and saw the tears staining his cheeks, “You’re still here.”

They sat in silence for a long time, looking into each other’s eyes in search of reassurance, understanding, comfort, something that couldn’t be achieved through words alone or even with them getting in the way. This time it was Ianto who broke the connection first, dropping his eyes to the handkerchief again and resuming twisting it. He wanted to cry, but he didn’t know what to cry for. All his tears for Lisa had been shed over the course of the months in the basement, he’d cried for himself for nearly three days in the last week, but then he remembered what he’d seen in Jack’s eyes, the anguish and sorrow of a man who was always so strong on the outside, when internally anyone else would be broken. Now the tears came, tears for a man everyone relied on without thinking about it, who went through so much pain to keep this world, a world that wasn’t even his own, safe, all for the sake of a chance meeting on a barrage balloon during the second World War.

He looked up at the Captain and found him looking away, giving Ianto the privacy he’d never even thought to ask for, but he was grateful. It gave him the chance to study him with his defences down, the way he hunched his shoulders slightly, locked his feet together and clung to the edge of the autopsy table so tightly that his knuckles were white. This was Jack, not the Captain, the real Jack, who was as defenceless as Ianto had ever been, but who needed defending from himself as well.

Ianto gripped the handkerchief tightly and stood up, moving to sit with his back to Jack on the table. After a while he tipped his head back to gaze unseeingly at the ceiling instead of the floor and he felt the tears trace new tracks down his cheeks, “Thank you, Jack.” He whispered, but he knew that his friend had heard him. He promised silently that the moment Jack needed him he would be there. He had no choice.

Realisation slowly dawned on him that there was one place he had to visit on his personal pilgrimage around the Hub and that it lay in the basement. Steeling himself against the fear and uncertainty he set his shoulders and stood up, pausing at the bottom of the steps to note that Jack was once again following him, all trace of the uncertainty gone, just being there again. Yet again he silently thanked the Doctor for creating such a remarkable man.

He hesitated in the middle of the Hub, facing the door to the underground passages that led to the hellhole he’d created. He glanced back at Jack, seeking the reassurance he knew he would find there and turned back to continue on his journey, suddenly, however, and without warning, Myfanwy swept down from her nest, screeching and all but attacking him. In a split second, the memories of the fear and the pain as he saw the Pterodactyl attack Lisa sprang back and overwhelmed him in a crushing blackness.

Jack saw Myfanwy coming and felt powerless to stop her. He ran towards Ianto instinctively to protect him as he sank to his knees, covering his head and crying. Placing himself between the angry Pterodactyl and his young friend he fumbled with the controls on his wrist strap to find the frequency control to send her back to her nest where he could pacify her properly. As she veered away from him and returned to safety he turned his attention to the man behind him who was shaking with fear and anguish. Without a second’s thought, Jack pulled him into a tight embrace and pressed kisses to his dark hair, rubbing his back soothingly as he tried to calm him. Gradually, Ianto got his breathing back under control but as he did so he pulled even closer to Jack, searching for shelter and safety. Jack figured he was probably in shock.

He half pulled, half carried the young man to the sofa behind Tosh’s desk and held him again as he sobbed. His heart broke for the pain this too young man had to deal with, and for the life that would be denied him whether he stayed here or not. If he stayed he could never have a normal life with a family and a home, but if he left he wouldn’t know the wonders of the universe; it was impossible to do both, and nearly as impossible to choose between the two.

As Ianto’s breathing calmed and he clung less tightly to Jack, the immortal pulled himself away and went to get him a glass of water. He returned as quickly as he could and found his friend much calmer, but watching Myfanwy sweeping round the Hub, now not attacking him thankfully.

“I have no idea what she was up to.” Jack pondered out loud as Ianto accepted the glass gratefully.

The Welshman laughed, “I don’t know, maybe she knew it was all my fault.”

“Well if she is, she’s the only thing in the building who still blames you for it. Although, I’m not sure about Janet either… Maybe we should avoid her for a bit too.” He tried to joke and was rewarded by a genuine, albeit slight, smile.

“Do you mean that, Jack? Do you really not blame me?”

“Really genuinely I don’t blame you. I’m not going to say that the others have forgiven you, because I can’t speak for them, but I have.”

“Why?”

Jack smiled, “And to that profundity there is only ever one correct answer, because.” He sat beside Ianto again, aware that he was towering over him standing up and watched him carefully again, “Are you alright?” he asked tentatively, relieved when Ianto nodded in response.

“I can’t…” he took a deep, steadying breath and let it out again, trying to control the tears that threatened to fall just thinking about that room in the basement, “I can’t go down there Jack, not yet. I’m not ready. I…”

“Hey, it’s OK,” he pulled the young man to him again and stroked his back soothingly, “You don’t have to, not yet. But we’ll get there, you’ll see, I’ll help you.”

Back at Ianto’s house at just after midnight they sat at opposite ends of Ianto’s bed again with hot chocolate and marshmallows to keep them warm and amused, in that order, (Jack had an enormous mouth, there was no way to win fluffy bunnies against him, no matter how had Ianto tried or how much he cheated), but both supplies were running low. Sighing into his now empty mug, Jack glanced at the clock on Ianto’s bedside table and groaned. He put the mug down on the bed, grabbed a marshmallow and untucked his leg from underneath him, “We should get to bed, well I should get to bed anyway, as you’re already there. That’s if…” He hesitated, seeming unsure and almost nervous, “Do you want to come back in tomorrow?”

Ianto’s smile told him enough, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sir.” He said, laying extra emphasis on the title, but in a way that Jack knew was not dismissive like it had been in the past. The Captain grinned and stood up, collecting both the mugs and leaving his friend the marshmallows as he headed towards the door, but he was stopped by a call from Ianto. He turned and faced the young man, leaning against the door frame gracefully. The young Welshman coloured, but he knew he had to say it, there was no way he could sleep tonight if he didn’t. “Jack, will you stay with me tonight, please?”

The older man’s heart melted a little, maybe even a lot, “Course I will, I’ll just do these and be right back.” He indicated the mugs and padded down to the kitchen. When he returned he slid under the quilt with Ianto and they lay on their sides watching each other warily. It was Ianto who broke the silence, grinning mischievously, “What my Mam would say if she knew I was sharing a bed with a man…”

“What would she say, Mr Jones?”

Ianto just shrugged, “She’d probably be a hell of a lot more worried about the fact that you’re my boss actually.” He flopped onto his back again and reached for the light, feeling Jack do the same on the other side, “And on that note…” the room was plunged into darkness and he swore quietly.

“Whut?” Jack asked

“The marshmallows are still in the middle of the bed.” The quilt soared upwards and flopped back down again, presumably Jack had flapped it, and there was the sound of something plastic hitting the floor, “Oh, OK, not anymore they’re not.”

Thingy: I do not own Torchwood or anything in it (sorry, the word escapes me)

Author's note: There is a prize for anyone who can name me a folk song with that quote in it, "One Man's story within a tale of many men", especially if you name the one I'm thinking of. Even my brother didn't get it. I'll write a personal individual story for anyone who knows it, cos it's that obscure. And I blame everything here on Jack and Ianto, they just do their own thing. Honestly, I turn my back for five minutes and when I come back they're eating marshmallows without me! The cheek of it!

Dedication: Thankyou so much to everyone who's reviewed, especially Hotflower901 and LadyAnalyn who've done every chapter. I hope you've enjoyed it but it is now laid to rest, we have reached the end. We have run out of week. I will be starting on my next one, which hopefully will be a bit more cheerful and more sci-fi, very soon (I'm thinking hours rather than days) and there's a one-shot coming on Sunday for my 18th birthday :D Thankyou so much for reading, especially those who have reviewed, and I hope to see you again shortly.

Ianto blinked sleepily and focused on the face in front of him. In the half-light of the bedroom Jack looked tired and so very human. He was frowning slightly, and his lips formed a delicious pout, as though he was thinking deeply about something. Ianto was startled by how attractive he found Jack, even though he knew the captain was a good looking man, he’d never been attracted to a man before; and the time to start being attracted to men was not when the man in question was in bed with you.

He took a moment to study Jack’s face; the laughter lines that crinkled when he flashed that trademark grin, the soft, full lips, that jaw line that looked like it was crafted rather then a result of biology, those blue eyes unfocused from sleep but gazing at him in amusement, “Like what you see?” The captain drawled dozily.

“Name me one person who doesn’t.” he grinned as he flopped onto his back, trust Captain Jack Harkness.

“Fair point, my turn…” Jack now propped himself up and studied Ianto’s face as the younger man watched him warily, probably best not to push it, “You need a shave.”

“So do you.”

He ran a hand along his jaw, “So I do, back shortly.” Glancing back as he left the room he was disappointed not to see Ianto watching him; in fact it looked as if the younger man had fallen asleep again. He chuckled as he went into the bathroom and emerged a short while later feeling much fresher, but even more tempted to simply fall asleep next to Ianto again, it had been a long couple of days.

He noted that it was going on for noon and discovered that he didn’t care, so he collapsed forwards onto the bed and was rewarded by a chuckle from his young friend, “Sorry, Yan. Did I wake you?” He apologised groggily.

“Not to worry, not after the number of times I woke you last night anyway.” Ianto propped himself up slightly and watched as the captain got himself more comfortable, “How many times did I wake up during the night?”

“Mmmm, three?” Jack’s voice was muffled by the pillows he’d buried his face in as he turned back to face Ianto only when he’d finished speaking, just in time to catch the grimace of guilt crossing his face, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault. I’m here to help.”

“I can only remember two times.” Came the rueful reply.

“Possibly, I don’t remember, it’s far too early.”

“Jack, it’s nearly noon.”

“See, far too early, go back t’sleep.” He groaned and was relieved when Ianto lay back down and appeared to do as he was told.

A short while later, however, he heard Ianto curse softly, “I was going to get the Lord of the Rings out today. Too late now.”

“Too tired, Rings requires concentration.” His voice was slurred, Ianto hadn’t realised he was still awake even.

“Maybe if we sleep through the day we can pull an all-nighter and watch it tonight?” he asked through a yawn.

“Mebbe, I’d never really considered an all-nighter for something fun before.” Ianto looked at him with a raised eyebrow and was astonished to see a blush colour Jack’s cheeks, “Stop it, Yan. I’m far too tired to play that game.”

“Damn.”

“What?”

“I just lost the game?”

“What game?”

“The Game.”

“You’re making no sense…” and this time Ianto was sure he really was asleep. The Welshman found that he was looking forwards to sharing the house with Jack. He was good fun, especially to wind up when he was tired like this. Ianto felt suddenly guilty, it was his fault that Jack was this tired, he really shouldn’t be enjoying it. Still… he was funny when he was groggy like that.

He smirked at the ceiling as he struggled to piece together his feelings over the last couple of days. He felt strangely detached from his emotions, like he’d felt other people’s during his psychic training, tangible and separate, but it was hard to tell where one finished and the next one started.

It always helped to think of it in terms of coloured wool with different strands twining together. The main strand, a constant binding the whole together, changed colour like a jackdaw’s wing; one moment it was jet black, glinting darkly; then it was blood red and burning, next moment icy blue and freezing, and then a deep, throbbing purple shot with acid green. It was pain, sometimes deep and bruising, sometimes cutting sharply across the surface, but always there twisting and twining through the heart of his being, indelible.

In with the pain was twisted a strand of guilt which seemed a dull grey until the light caught it and it lanced a brilliant, blinding white through his mind, splintering the surrounding emotions and somehow knotting the pain even tighter. It was wrapped most tightly around a thin golden strand of happiness at having emerged from the affair with a greater friendship with two of his team-mates. No matter how hard the guilt tried to smother it, that strand survived and would grow stronger and brighter with time.

Another pair were twisted together, growing stronger and weaker in their turns, one beautiful and one bitter, love and anger, his love for Lisa and his anger at her fate, still competing for dominance over his life.

Then there were the other emotions twining through the whole: silvery blue fear and dusky pink hope surfacing where he least expected them, coppery confusion tying his thoughts in knots, and a pinkish, bluish, silvery strand which glinted metallically like a fish’s scales. Actually, a fish was a very good simile, because it was like one of the small fish that dart among reeds, gone as soon as he saw it and like it had never been there whenever he tried to get a closer look.

Feeling a headache forming, Ianto put down his metaphorical knitting needles and chanced another look at the captain’s sleeping form. Jack had curled onto his side facing away from Ianto and the young man could see the tension, even in sleep. His heart bled for the worries and troubles Jack carried, had carried and accumulated over the last hundred plus years. How could one person deal with the whole of Torchwood and seeing everything he loved wither and fade whilst he stayed constant and remain as strong and as caring as Jack was? Whoever the Doctor was, however much Ianto wanted to hate him for what he’d done to Jack, he couldn’t have done it to a better man. Maybe only this one man in the whole of time and space could have coped with the challenges he had faced. Or maybe that’s how people became after travelling with the magical Doctor.

He folded his arms behind his head and let his mind wander into the vastness of space. Since joining Torchwood and having the wonders and the dangers revealed to him he’d wanted to travel and see it. Of course, when he’d been with Torchwood One he’d seen the Doctor just as a threat, someone who they needed protecting from, someone to be feared. But then the Battle of Canary Wharf had happened, the Doctor had saved the day and was the reason that he was still alive and Ianto had returned to Torchwood in Cardiff, where things were a bit different. Yvonne, a good woman in her way who he’d trusted completely, had detested them, so so had Ianto; when he’d needed them for Lisa he’d had no qualms about using them. Now though… Jack had opened his eyes to yet another world, one where heroes and enemies fought over the Earth without anyone ever knowing about it, where love and monsters rubbed shoulders and wonders never ceased. His whole universe had been turned upside down, and he so badly wanted to see what Jack had seen, to travel in the strange blue box and visit an alien planet, see the Earth as they saw other planets.

As the Captain stirred slightly, Ianto wondered if the Doctor would ever turn up again, and if Jack would go. He’d been in Cardiff a long time now, but it was just a stopping off point, a temporary measure, just like the bunker beneath his office. That was Jack all over, supposed to be temporary but ended up lasting forever.

Guessing that Jack would wake soon, he went to the kitchen to make a full English breakfast for the pair of them and then brought it back to the kitchen to find his friend half conscious and blinking blearily, but he was rewarded by an astonishing smile when Jack saw the breakfast, “Ianto you are a star!”

“Least I could do.” He smiled and handed Jack a plate and a mug of coffee once he’d sat up and then settled at the other end of the bed to eat his own, “Could we get any more debauched?”

The captain appeared to consider this for a moment, “Yeah, I could quite easily. Want to give it a go?” They laughed and settled into a mindless argument about whether cricket or rugby was the better game (doing wonders for stereotyping there) as they ate and then tried to decide what to do. The rift was quiet so Jack didn’t have to be elsewhere and they didn’t really want to watch films again. “So talk to me?” Ianto suggested.

Jack looked slightly taken aback, “What about?”

He recalled his previous train of thoughts, “Tell me about the Doctor. I spent more than two years hunting him, now I’m led to understand that he’s the hero of the piece. Who is he?”

“I wish I knew.” Jack looked slightly wary but eventually seemed to decide that he could tell the young man, “The Doctor really is a hero, my hero, my Doctor. Like I said yesterday, we travelled together for about two years, there was him and me and two girls called Rose and Jasmine. We travelled in time, to the extent that Jasmine was born two years before Rose but was actually younger than her.”

“How on Earth?”

“Not on Earth, that’s the key. Time got a bit… relative. Rose met the Doctor in 2005 when she was nineteen, I met them in 1942 over three thousand years before I was born, don’t ask me how old I was because I honestly haven’t a clue, but we picked Jazz up in 1999 when she was fifteen. And then we went back and forwards and generally got very confused and had a whale of a time together, visiting these amazing planets and saving the day, running for our lives most of the time but loving every minute. I wish you could meet him Ianto, I hope you will one day. But I don’t know. I was told I’d have to wait over one hundred years to see him again, but I’ve waited longer than that and I’m worried that I’ve missed him. He was at Canary Wharf, maybe that was my chance.”

“You said one of the girls was called Rose, is she Rose Tyler?”

“Yeah, died at Canary Wharf with her Mum. I think that’s when I really stopped blaming him for leaving me; he loses everyone eventually. Better to not check to find out if I was alive or dead than to check and find that he’d lost one more.”

“What do you mean?”

“We’d been sucked from our spaceship, the TARDIS, by a transmat and we’d been put in game shows on a space station in the future. They were lethal, you could get shot or dismembered, and it wasn’t a nice place. And then we found out that it was being run by the Daleks, and they attacked the station and the Earth. I organised the defences whilst the Doctor tried to destroy them, Rose stayed with the Doctor and Jasmine stayed with the other civilians, I begged her not to come with me, because I thought she’d be safe there.”

“What happened?”

The pain in Jack’s eyes was evident and heartbreaking as he met Ianto’s eyes again, “I heard her die, all of them, I heard them all die, but she was the first to die. She stood and faced them. And not long after I went the same way. Lived a coward, but at least I died a hero. First time anyway.” He laughed bitterly, “Next thing I know I’m gasping back to life again and there’s this dust everywhere, then I hear the TARDIS engines going and by the time I got there they’d gone, however many of them survived. And I couldn’t bring myself to go and find her, because I knew she was dead, but as long as I didn’t see her I could believe that she’d survived. That hope’s long faded now though. But I suppose that, give it a couple of million years or however long it was, I’ll be able to go back and find her this time. Do it right.”

“Is that why you didn’t do what you should have done with me? Because of her?”

“If you mean is that why I broke the rules, then yes. Because it might have been a very long time ago, but I can’t forget that I would have done the same for her. But I don’t equate the right thing to do with what the rules tell me to do, not always anyway.”

“I’d noticed.” Ianto shifted uncomfortably and tried to think of a way to cheer the conversation up, but Jack did it for him.

“We had some great times though, before we were separated. We went to this planet once, I forget what it was called because it was a really boring name, but their dreams were their enemies, because there were these microscopic organisms which fed on mind waves and magnified them like… You’ve read the Hitchhiker’s Guide?” Ianto nodded, “Yeah well, I had a copy of the real thing in the TARDIS, useful book, it’s like the babel fish, it fed back their dreams until they were magnified and horrible. People went mad on dreams, and I thought that it was an oppressive regime stifling creativity. Honestly, it was hell, no colour, no imagination, just completely bland, so I tried to brighten things up a bit. Oh I managed. I definitely managed, I went through the whole city telling stories, the one about the Armoured Sharks was particularly popular, then got myself arrested and taken to a mental hospital. Honestly, I nearly got lobotomised because I was a threat. Then engaged in a shootout with police, and this is all in a day’s work for us you understand.” He was grinning broadly and Ianto couldn’t help joining in, “I’m up the proverbial creek without a paddle, chocolate creek without a Popsicle stick, call it what you will, nearly with a chunk of my brain removed when an alarm goes and I manage to escape with sheer brute strength, and He just swans in and takes over the show. I’m like, well couldn’t you have done that earlier? But it’s no fun if it’s not the last minute.”

“So what happened, did they sort it, leave?”

“Sorted it, developed a serum to protect against the organisms. They can all dream freely now, and, I hope, pass around the legend of Captain Jack Harkness.”

“Modest as always?”

“Yeah well, I’ve had an interesting life, it’s no fun if you can’t share the stories with someone.”

“Go on then.” Ianto leaned forwards with a grin, “Tell me your stories. Tell me the one about the armoured sharks.”

Author's note: Don't own it, much though I'd like to

Sorry it's taken so long to update, I've been away again. But we are now nearing the end and it should get easier from here. Apart from the fact that I'm going away again in just over a week. I will get it done, I promise, before I go to Towersey hopefully. There are references in here again to Jasmine, who's going to be great fun to write, but that won't come for a while, maybe. Slightly AU by this point, but I can't get rid of her and I can't write that story in the future without mentioning her here really. Cos that would just feel silly.

07.30

Jack was in the cellars feeding Janet when he heard the alarms go off to signal that one of the team had arrived. He finished off and strolled up to the Hub to find a very fragile looking Tosh sitting at her desk with a half empty glass of water, clear signs of an interesting but not unusual Torchwood night. The really unusual thing was that it was Tosh. He rested his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them gently in a circular motion, eliciting an appreciative groan, “You OK, Tosh?” He asked, “If you’re feeling ill you can have the day off.”

“Thanks, Jack, but I’ll be alright. It’s just a hangover, I’m not used to dealing with them, that’s all.”

He chuckled, “Not very like you, what were you doing last night?” The true meaning of the question remained hanging between them, unspoken but understood.

“Ianto and I drowned our sorrows in at least three bottles of wine between us. Well, mostly Ianto’s sorrows to be honest. I think he’ll be OK. At the moment he’s far too thin and doesn’t look like he’s slept but…” she smiled gently, “It’ll take a while, but he’ll get there.” Jack nodded gratefully and relaxed visibly. She could tell it had been weighing him down over the last couple of days. “I think it would help if you went to see him. He needs as many friends as he can get.”

He looked dubious and avoided the issue, as she expected, “How do you think Gwen and Owen are taking it?”

The technician wasn’t a woman to be diverted that easily, “I know it’s not because you don’t want to see him, because you clearly do. So why not? He wants to see you. If you ask me he’s got a bit of a hero worship thing going on.”

“Hero worship?” Jack looked astonished, “But he saw straight through me. I’m no hero, I’m a monster.” He looked thoroughly broken as he repeated Ianto’s words to her, like a man with no purpose and no desire to continue, showing a side she’d never even suspected he possessed. “I lash out and I hurt the people I care about, every time. And as a result, I’ve become nothing more than a hard shell with a core of acid, because that way I can’t get close enough to people to hurt them.”

“No! No, Jack. You’ve saved us all, especially Owen and me. We were at a point where we could either give up or go on and without you we couldn’t have gone on. For us, you are everything; you are the hero we want to be. We know that we’ll die young, because that’s Torchwood, but because of you we’ve got the chance to live more in this short space of time than we ever could in three lifetimes. Look, Jack, you were the only person who could save me and Owen, now you’re the only one who can save Ianto. Go and see him tonight, please?”

He nodded, indicating that he’d heard what she said, not agreeing to go and see him, “So…” He paused and swallowed painfully, he was as close to breaking down as he’d been in a very long time, “How are Gwen and Owen taking it do you think?”

Tosh knew when to drop the subject as well as when to push it; “Owen is taking it harder, because of Katie. I think that he’d like to think that he wouldn’t have done what Yan did, but secretly knows he would have.” She looked uncomfortable about what was coming next, “Gwen’s forgiven him I think, she’s still stung by it a bit, but she knows that she would do the same for Rhys…”

“She’s just having trouble forgiving me?” Jack hazarded in a monotone. Tosh’s heart almost broke to see him so miserable.

Ianto had almost laughed to see Tosh looking so ‘fragile’ the morning before, but he wasn’t in much better shape himself. Yet again he hadn’t been able to sleep, haunted by nightmares as soon as he got close to nodding off, so once she’d drifted off in the main living room he’d gone into the other one to read. By now he’d read most of the Sherlock Holmes stories, soon he’d have to move onto the DVDs, which he got out almost every time he had a day off, and then onto the fan-fiction he was working on. Once he got bored of that, hopefully sometime tomorrow, he’d move onto the Lord of the Rings DVDs he’d got in town, which would last him about two days and he’d only have another two to get through before he could go back to work.

Somewhere in his evening with Tosh, he wasn’t all that surprised to discover that he couldn’t remember exactly when, or even what they’d been talking about by the end of the evening, he’d decided that he would definitely be going back to work. Aside from the fact that he couldn’t imagine life without aliens, dinosaurs and, he had to admit, the dashing captain, he would definitely miss Tosh, and he got the feeling that she would miss him too. This was the small bright spark in what was a very dark outlook at the moment, probably not helped by the alcoholic clouds whirling around his brain.

Stifling a groan at the ache building in his head, putting a lie to the line that not sleeping prevented hangovers, he grabbed a couple of paracetamol and returned to the main living room to put on some ‘lift music’ and sink back into a Conan-Doyle induced cloudbank.

21.00

Jack was alone in the Hub again. The team had left not long before, having had a weevil sighting at about ten past five. Without Ianto around they were a mess, it had taken them nearly four hours to achieve what should have taken no more than one. He leaned back in his chair and let his thoughts stray back to the young man, worry clouding his features. Tosh’s words earlier in the day, coupled with Gwen’s continued standoffishness, had hit him quite hard. He’d been wrong, completely wrong, to ask what he did of Ianto; although maybe ‘ask’ wasn’t the right word. It had been an order, possibly the most despicable order he’d ever given. He’d been angry, furious, maybe even livid. But Ianto had been in love, and love is a much more admirable emotion than anger.

He rubbed at his eyes, hoping that if he did so enough he’d erase the memories of what he’d seen and done, but it wasn’t going to happen. Had his life, his extraordinarily long life, been building up to this point, this decision, which he’d made wrongly? He hoped not, because otherwise it had all been in vain. Every heartbreak, every loss, and every love, all worthless because he’d betrayed someone who relied on him. Someone who saw him as a hero? That was laughable. He’d never been a hero, even in the good days with Him. He’d been a coward, until that last day, when it had all gone wrong. After the disastrous result of his heroism he’d reverted to type. That was until Torchwood had got hold of him and he realised just how close he’d got to betraying his friend. The fact that they’d forced him into working for them and, by a convoluted route, against them had knocked off some of the edges that had grown back, until he was almost ready to take the control when it was given to him. Almost, but apparently almost wasn’t enough.

Groaning he swung his way down into the bunker under his office and stretched out on the bed. Sleep would be a long time coming tonight, if it came at all, but he didn’t really need it any more. The last thing he needed was to think, but with all the paperwork done and the Hub spotless, there wasn’t really anything else to do. What he really wanted to do was go and see Ianto but… Should he?

He reached for the phone but stopped with his hand hovering over it, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea. Tosh had said he wanted to see him, but how many glasses of wine had they both had by the time she decided that? Would Ianto be less willing to see him on a clear head? Would he have a clear head at all, or would he have spent every night in a drunken stupor? That didn’t sound anything like his Ianto, but the idea made knives dance in Jack’s gut.

Hang on. When did he start calling Ianto his Ianto? He shook his head and laid back down feeling thoroughly miserable. Ianto didn’t even care about Jack and he’d still got hurt, just because Jack cared about him. Sometimes life dealt you a blinder. For Jack it seemed to happen on a fairly regular basis.

The sounds of the hub were deadened from here, it was virtually silent, and so the ringing of his phone was particularly loud. He reached for it and looked at it in confusion, feeling both hope and fear rising at the name on the screen: Ianto

His eyelids were getting heavy and he could feel sleep claiming him. He didn’t try to fight it, because he didn’t have the strength. He hadn’t eaten today, apart from a pickled onion which he suspected probably didn’t count, and he hadn’t slept properly since… OK, avoid that one, it was too hard to work out, but it was a long time. Far too tired to move, he switched off the TV and laid back on the sofa, letting the waves wash over him and claim him in dark oblivion.

Fifteen minutes later he was sitting with his back against the sofa sobbing and shaking. No matter how hard he tried to persuade himself that they were just nightmares his mind, sleep-deprived and still in the grip of the nightmare, would not be persuaded. Every shadow was full of menace; every sound was something coming to punish him for his mistakes. His breath hitched painfully as a car drove past the window, but he saw a cyberman’s searchlight and heard a Dalek. Not having seen them made them seem worse than they were, because his tortured imagination came into play.

Terror had a full grip in him, and he could only think of two options. The first was to run, but his subconscious mind knew that he couldn’t run from something inside his own head, so it went for the second option and reached for his phone. It rang a couple of times and he began to wonder if it would even be answered, but a worried voice greeted him before that train of voice was even completed. He took a deep and completely ineffectual breath to steady his voice and asked one of the most important questions of his life, “Jack, will you come round here, please? I need you.”

Jack had been halfway up the ladder by the time he’d registered the name, knowing that the reason for the call would be important, so when he heard Ianto’s request he only had to grab his coat and the keys for the SUV before he was heading out through the rolling cog door, thought was not required or even involved. Ianto had sounded terrified, his choice of words was obviously controlled, but his voice betrayed his true emotions; it sounded like he’d been crying, or screaming.

The usual fear, a sort of bone deep ache, which he felt whenever they were out and the team were in danger, had settled in and was urging him faster to Ianto’s house. It was about half an hour’s drive from the Hub, even at this time of night when the roads were quiet, and yet again Jack longed for the heady days of teleports and time-travel when everything had been so easy. He could have been there as soon as the phone rang, which would have removed this tense period of worry when he really, really shouldn’t be in control of a vehicle, especially one as large as the SUV. Jack swerved around a traffic island and reflected for a moment on the changes he’d seen in Cardiff since he’d moved there over one hundred years ago. Back then there had been no cars, no traffic lights, no Millennium Centre, barely any Torchwood. There had been nothing to hold him there, apart from vague threats and a promise that in one hundred years or so the person he was looking for would come around again. These days there was so much more, it was more like his home, the only home he could remember properly after so long, and there was so much keeping him here. He was halfway to one of the things.

Everything came and went in Jack’s life. The Doctor was a constant, even when he wasn’t there (Jack still felt like he was constantly looking over his shoulder), Jack himself was a constant, he knew he’d always bounce back, except for that brief moment with the Cyberwoman where he’d dared to hope that maybe this would finish him off. He considered that for a moment, it was the first time for quite a while that he’d wished he were mortal, that he would die and have it all over; he’d been that miserable. Ianto’s betrayal had broken his heart, which wasn’t all that unusual in Jack’s life, but it really was a spectacular way to do it. He’d thought they were friends at least, or that Ianto respected him enough to be unable to keep a secret like that. Then again, he’d also thought that Ianto was far too intelligent to do something so catastrophically DUMB, but people in love did stupid stuff.

Some would ask, if they knew what Jack had seen and done over the years, how he could come through that still believing in Love; the answer was that he had to, because that was the other constant in his life. He loved everything. Not like Owen would suggest, like he projected, that he would sleep with anything with a pulse, he actually loved everything. No matter what happened, there was always something to get him up in the morning, even if it was only the sight of the sunrise over Cardiff Bay and the taste of a bag of chips.

Ianto had made it to the bathroom and was staring at his reflection in the mirror; he was a wreck. He looked like he hadn’t slept or eaten in a week and he needed a shave – what Jack would say he couldn’t imagine. Actually, he could, which made it worse. He groaned and wandered back to the living room to flop back on the sofa – bugger Jack and bugger Torchwood. There was wine in the kitchen, a bad idea but a very appealing one; he was on his way when the doorbell rang and he changed his path to open the door to a concerned looking Jack. “You look dreadful Ianto, can I come in?”

He pulled a wry face and stepped aside, gesturing through to the living room and taking Jack’s coat to hang it up, “You don’t look much better, sir. Compared to your usual at least, your starting point is higher than mine.” He wasn’t lying, Jack looked tired and harried and guilt lanced through Ianto again. Had he done this?

But his boss managed a smile, a genuine one and even chuckled, “Harassment, Ianto? And please call me Jack. Everyone else does, and we’re not at work, are we?”

“Depends on your definition I suppose.” He gestured for Jack to take a seat and collapsed back on the sofa, “If we are then I call you sir and you’ve got me on the harassment. If not then it can’t be harassment. So which is it?”

“Jack. I don’t really mind the harassment anyway.”

Ianto laughed, “Can I get you something, coffee?” Jack didn’t even need to answer; the look on his face was quite enough so he followed Ianto through to the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, Yan?”

The young man turned round, surprised at the shortened form of his name, which only Tosh had ever used before at Torchwood. He paused to consider the options and eventually plumped for honesty, “Shit.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Yes.” He sighed.

Jack felt a huge surge of affection for the young man and was determined to do his utmost to remove the broken look, “I’m so sorry Yan.”

Ianto shook his head and handed Jack a steaming mug of coffee, pulling a chair out from the table and sinking into it, “Don’t be, it wasn’t your fault. It was mine, because I was stupid and blind. I’m sorry. I betrayed you all; you gave me so much, all of you but especially you, Jack. And all the time I had a monster of a secret just waiting to explode and kill you all.”

“We all make mistakes Ianto, there’s always something there to blind us to what’s right and what’s wrong. And one thing I’ve learnt is that love is always right, but the things we do in the name of love, they’re not always right.”

“So was I right, or wrong?”

“Wrong, but if it’s any consolation I’ve been more wrong in the past, we learn from our mistakes.” He smiled gently and seemed to hesitate a moment before reaching across to squeeze Ianto’s hand, and he was grateful when the young man not only didn’t move his hand but actually turned it to squeeze Jack’s hand in return, although he looked quite surprised by the open show of affection from the captain, “Let us help you, let me help. Please?”

Ianto nodded, and then hesitated, suddenly unsure of where to start. It had been nice to talk to Tosh the night before, but there had been things he felt he couldn’t talk about. Mostly they’d just drunk, but tonight he felt that he needed to talk, and Jack was probably the only person who would listen. “How long have you got?” He asked, half jokingly.

“As long as you need, I’m here for you Yan.”

Author’s Note: I’m going to leave to your imagination what Ianto says tonight, some of it will emerge in the next few chapters, but as A) I want to give poor Ianto some privacy and B) I hate writing reams of dialogue, this feels like a good opportunity to finish the chapter I intended to finish erm… four days ago? Sorry for the delay again lol, far too much angst going on for my poor brain, but the next one is well underway (you know when you want to think about one thing and something else insists on happening? Yeah, me too. Lol)

And I have no idea what’s going to happen in the next chapter, or when I’ll get interwebs next, so I’ve no idea when this is going up or when I’ll finish the next…

Disclaimer: Do not own, much though I want to. Property of the Barrowman Broadcasting Corporation

Tuesday: 00.03

Ianto closed the door and leant against it, sliding to the floor in a flood of tears. He knew that he had lost everything in one day. Lisa was dead and he now saw her as a monster, his colleagues no longer trusted him and the one man who could have saved him, would have saved him, finally saw him for the traitor he was.

With each fresh revelation, the knife in his chest seemed to twist deeper, until with the last one he buried his face in his hands and keeled over sideways onto the floor.

Sobs wracked his thin frame, eating hadn’t been a priority since he returned to Cardiff, an every part of him seemed to burn with an agonising maelstrom of guilt and loss.

Recollections flashed before his eyes, no matter how hard he tried to focus on the cobweb in the corner by the door, a testament to his distraction and disillusionment recently. He saw Abbie after Lisa had ‘upgraded’ her, reminding him of the times they had spent together before Torchwood, then he saw Lisa after Owen had stabbed her, thinking she was dead but secretly being more upset about the fact that Owen and Gwen had nearly been killed and it was his fault. Then it was Jack pressing a gun to his head and telling Gwen that he was, what was it? “Resisting the urge to shoot.” Ianto wished he had, he should have, especially after what he said. Had he really called Jack a monster? He knew he had, the last 24 hours weren’t going to become a bad dream just by wishing, and he hoped that Jack hadn’t believed him; the captain was a hero, and the world depended on him not doubting that for a moment. But would Jack ever know that Ianto hadn’t believed himself when he said it?

Jack was at that moment mired in self loathing and uncertainty magnified by years of experience. He was good at introspection. He’d sent the rest of the team home before Ianto, then told the young man to take a week to compose his thoughts before making a decision on whether he wanted to stay or not. Ianto had been all set to take retcon and leave Cardiff forever; Jack thought he would have taken his own life if Jack had asked it of him. For a moment, Jack wondered if it was purely selfish on his part keeping Ianto here where there were so many bad memories for him, but he pushed the thought aside roughly. Torchwood needed Ianto, and he was sure that Ianto needed Torchwood too.

The hub was virtually silent, even Myfanwy was quiet, sulking after her ‘meeting’ with the Cyberwoman as far as he could tell. He’s always hated these times, when he’d been freelancing they had meant a disaster, but he’d got used to them since he started sleeping in the bunker under his office. The problem now wasn’t the quiet, it was the emptiness. Jack had accepted the essential loneliness of his existence over a hundred years ago, but that hadn’t stopped him from trying to fill it for brief moments over the years; he’d had to. Without someone filling that void, his life lacked purpose and point. And once upon a time he’d dared to dream that Ianto Jones, Torchwood’s coffee king, would one day fill that space in his life. Maybe not even share his bed, that wasn’t important these days, just be that someone who Jack needed to shed a light in the darkness, to tell him everything would be alright, someone he could tell the secrets that ate him away from the inside and still love him…

He slammed the door shut on that thought and pushed himself away from his desk, his feet taking him to the balcony to look down on the hub, still a scene of destruction. The power of Ianto’s love had almost destroyed everything, but he couldn’t blame him, not when he himself had once almost destroyed the world through greed. The guilt of that mishap still burnt him, he didn’t deserve Ianto’s love, even if he had had the slightest chance. With a love that strong, Ianto deserved and needed someone reliable, stable and strong; Jack was none of those things. He knew that one day the Doctor would reappear in his life and he would run off with him (after him?), he flirted with everything that moved and he had crises of confidence like this one. All in all, not a good choice for a relationship. He knew he could love Ianto as much as he deserved, God knew he did, love was something he was good at, even after all this time. But he wouldn’t let himself. Ianto didn’t deserve the destruction his love always brought.

10.14

Since he moved into this house, Ianto hadn’t known when the post was delivered. If he was working it arrived after he left and if he had a day off he always slept until at least noon and it arrived whilst he slept. Today, however, it landed on top of him.

He hadn’t slept, he’d just cried and lain there. Still with no desire to sleep, he got up and dumped the post on the kitchen table before making a coffee. As he drank it he went through the post and sorted it into piles of junk, bills and anything interesting. The third pile, even though he hadn’t sorted his post for over a week, consisted of a postcard form his cousin who had been in China when she sent it, but by now was back in Huddersfield.

Ianto stuck the postcard to the fridge door with a thermometer fridge magnet, put the junk mail in a pile to recycle and went to file the bills, eternally grateful for direct debits. Looking round the living room he noticed the coffee cups on the table, the books in a pile on the floor, the newspapers folded untidily on the table and the sofa and the remotes lying all over the place. Back in the kitchen the picture was the same and he knew there was no change in the rest of the house. How did one man manage to get a house this size so messy? He took the coffee mugs through to the kitchen and washed them, then washed everything else that had accumulated. With that done, he set to work on the rest of the kitchen, descending into a frenzy of spring-cleaning.

Jack had got the computer systems back online by the time Tosh got in at nine o’clock, he pretended to be insulted when she showed how surprised she was but couldn’t prevent the relief at not being alone any more from showing on his face. He was also grateful when she rested a hand on his arm and told him that she was sorry he’d had to face the decisions he’d had to make the day before, even though she left him with the warning that Gwen would have something else to say about it. He knew that one of the team would lambast him over how he had handled it, badly as ever, but that didn’t mean he looked forwards to it. He’d had nothing but self-condemnation all night and whilst he deserved it, later was infinitely preferable to sooner and the guilt over that fact felt worse than anything he could remember feeling.

He carried on with the cleaning he had started, collecting mugs that Ianto had missed from around the hub and washing them, organising the bookcase in his office. Owen arrived whilst he worked and ignored him completely, which sent yet another spasm of guilt through him. How had he not noticed that something was wrong, Ianto had always been so thorough, a total perfectionist, but in recent weeks, maybe even months, his standards had slipped? And Jack hadn’t noticed. He clenched his fist and resisted the urge to thump the wall, knowing that inflicting pain on himself wasn’t going to solve the problems he had created. Yet again, he’d messed up royally, and he hoped he could put it right again.

Right on cue, Gwen appeared in the door of his office; he’d been so consumed that he hadn’t hear her arrive, even with the alarms and flashing lights which must have accompanied her entrance. She was now glaring at him with her arms folded; ‘Volcano Day’ had arrived.

“Tell me about cybermen, Jack.” The look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t expecting that, so she felt she had to make the situation crystal clear, “I want to know what could possibly be so bad that you could treat one of your team, someone who relies on you, like shit. No, it was beyond shit, Jack. It was unforgivable. If last night is your true nature coming to the fore, Ianto was right.”

“He was.” Jack had broken eye contact with her almost immediately and was leaning on the back of his chair, his eyes fixed on the now clear top of his desk but clearly not seeing it, Gwen wondered what he actually saw, “Once upon a time I was a conman, a criminal. Then I met someone who made me better, but I think his effect’s wearing off by now. I lash out when I’m scared, when I’m angry, when I’m hurt…” He smiled bitterly without a trace of humour, “When I’m jealous. Which makes me the exact opposite of the cybermen.”

He passed her a file from his desk and she opened it, looking at reports from over the years of meetings with cybermen, he just repeated the information file she found on the first page, “The cybermen are extra-terrestrial, I think, although you won’t find it in that file, that they first arrived on Earth just in time to cause the extinction of the dinosaurs, but the first date you will find in there is 1971 when they first tried to take control of Earth. They came back in 1986 and then in 2007.”

“The ghosts?” She didn’t look up from the file, but seemed disgusted by something she’d found in there. He wasn’t surprised, considering what she would find in there.

He nodded, “Yeah, them. Torchwood one had eight hundred and twenty three staff, only twenty seven survived, and only seven of those were in the building on the day. We’re incredibly lucky that we have Ianto, all things considered.” He would never forgive himself if he’d ruined that.

“He was there?”

“No, he’d been sent out to collect some artefacts which Torchwood had ‘acquired’.” She heard the inverted commas drop into place, “He got there after the battle finished, but before we arrived, or he would never have got her out of there.” The reason for this didn’t need saying, “The cybermen are the way they are because they have had all their emotions removed. They believe themselves to be superior to all other forms of life as a result, and strive to make everything like them by upgrading them, turning them into machines of war. Never needing to stop, never faltering from their quest. You can’t hesitate, if you face one and have a chance to kill it, you have to. Because even if you escape, some other poor sod won’t be so lucky. It’s not a life, it’s an existence.”

“So why did you hesitate before killing Lisa?”

He seemed at a loss, “I don’t know. I think, I think it was because Ianto still saw her as the woman she once was, and I didn’t want to take that from him. And also…” He hesitated, seemingly unsure of whether he should tell her what was on his mind, “I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t certain that my motives for stopping her were as clear cut as I would have liked.”

“What other motive could you have had? You did the right thing as far as she’s concerned.” She still wasn’t letting him off on his treatment of Ianto he noted.

“Jealousy.” It was said in a small voice, sounding so completely unlike Jack that Gwen was sure someone else must have said it, but it was Jack’s lips that had moved.

“Jealous of whom?” She looked completely incredulous.

“Of Lisa.” Gwen was silent, shocked, “It’s been a long time since anyone loved me that much. If anyone ever has.” He looked completely broken, and Gwen resisted the urge to go to him and hold him, she knew that she couldn’t be what he so desperately needed and that she shouldn’t try. She filled the silence by reading Jack’s report on the incident the night before, which he’d evidently recently completed; it was stained with tears which were still damp.

Reading through the report, she noted a gaping omission, “You haven’t mentioned anything about how she got into the Hub. No mention of Ianto’s involvement, except that he defended her.”

He took the file back and looked at it in embarrassment, “We all make mistakes, some bigger than others, but this file will be here long after Ianto’s gone. Mistakes like that shouldn’t last any longer than they have to, and they certainly shouldn’t be shared with the outside world.” He straightened up and returned the file to his desk, “If the cybermen ever return, that file will have to be shared with every other authority. And I’ve heard a rumour that Torchwood 1 may be reopening. Under their policies I should have shot Ianto as soon as I found out.”

“Then why didn’t you? Would it have been worse than what you did?” She glared at him again as she recognised his distancing tactics.

Jack didn’t turn back to her, “I didn’t because I couldn’t. Aside from the fact that I would have to live with the guilt for eternity, I cared, care…” he paused, “too much, I care too much for him to lose him like that. I know I’ll lose you all one day, but by my own hand… I couldn’t do it.”

18.00

Ianto hadn’t stopped all day. He’d got the kitchen, the dining room, both living rooms, the hall and the downstairs bathroom cleaned to perfection and had moved to the upstairs rooms. When he’d moved back to Cardiff, he’d bought a house this size in the belief that one day, Lisa would be properly alive again and they could start a family to fill this house. As it was, he’d never used the dining room or the second living room and only one of the bedrooms. A combination of moving from the centre of London to an obscure area of Cardiff and a Torchwood salary had enabled him to buy a nice and rather large house. He suspected that it would always be empty now. Probably best to move out into somewhere smaller actually. No matter what he’d said to Jack last night after the others went home, he couldn’t leave Torchwood, it was all he had. He felt a familiar stab of guilt as the gratitude at Jack’s not firing him, or shooting him, on the sport. It was all he had deserved, but Jack gave him a second chance. He hoped he was worth it.

The rift had spewed up three spikes during the day, two of which had produced nothing, but one of them had brought a very angry and very confused Terradonian through. Jack had tried hard to placate him, but had been forced to tell him that there was no way back. Encounters like this always left him feeling drained and guilty. Once upon a time he would have been able to take him straight back home, but today he was as stranded as they were, separated from the people they loved, desperately hoping for the coming of a man in a blue box who could make everything right again. Tosh had created a cover story for him and they had set him up in the alien quarter of Cardiff where he would have to start a new life. There were families there who had been living in Cardiff for over a hundred years and were on their fourth generation with no intention of ever leaving. Then there were the ones who’d been there a few years, who still asked him, when he saw them in the bar where anyone was welcome, if there was a way home yet. At that moment, every ear in the bar would tune in to hear him tell them that, no, they hadn’t found a way to get them back yet, and a dark air would settle over the bar again. He didn’t go there as often as he used to any more.

He was settled in his office writing up the report, then moved onto the pile of paperwork which had accumulated over the… he checked… years. Wanting to make Ianto’s job as easy as possible if and when he returned, he settled down to complete the reports.

Author’s note: Angst, angst, angst and it’s only going to get angstier. Kudos to anyone who can pick up the more obscure classic Who reference in there. Some of the ideas are from the fic I was never ever ever going to write but which will follow this one.

I’m off on me jollies on Saturday (sorry, I’m from Yorkshire), so I will aim to get this finished by then. If not, I’ll keep writing and try to find a wi-fi spot to upload it as and when I can. I hope you’ve enjoyed it thus far! I was sitting in the pub and nearly crying as I wrote the first bit :) Sad, I know

Disclaimer: Torchwood and the other little references to Who belong to the BBC. The only thing which belongs to me is the alien bar in the alien quarter of Cardiff, which I love but will gladly share with anyone who wishes to use it. Everyone needs somewhere to go for a drink with his or her more conspicuous friends.