“I remember this suit.  I like this suit.”

That was promising, Jack remembering the suit.  It was dark charcoal, included a waistcoat, and looked very good with the dark maroon shirt Ianto had retrieved from the back of his wardrobe.  He added a black tie that he’d always been fond of, appreciating the discreet pattern picked out in texture rather than colour.  Only one thing ruined the ensemble.

“I thought I might nip out for a haircut later,” he told Jack as he glared at his appearance in the mirror.

“Why?”

“What d‘you mean, why?  Look at it.  Needs a trim every six weeks or I turn into Herry Monster.”

“Hairy monster?”

“Herry Monster.”

“Hairy.”

“Herry.  Herry.  Honestly, Jack, your knowledge of contemporary childhood icons is woefully lacking.  Anyone would think you’d grown up in the fifty-first century.”

“I like this,” Jack said, exploring Ianto’s hair and smiling as the added length allowed the locks to curl around his fingers.

“I look a mess.”

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

Jack’s fingertips trailed down Ianto’s neck, causing pleasurable shivers and, for a wonderful moment, Ianto thought his Jack was back, and that kisses and more were imminent.  He scolded himself for being obsessed with sex, despite justifying that obsession with the simple argument that sex was how they’d always connected.  But because of the circumstances he’d found himself in, Ianto had to concede that anything else scared the living daylights out of him.  To see Jack and think orgasm was so much safer than thinking love, or reminding himself that he now had the monumental responsibility of keeping Jack in the moment.  Mentally shaking that pressure off, Ianto turned to Jack to encourage further attention, only to see the all too familiar troubled expression creeping back.

“What’s wrong, Jack?”

“I – I don’t know.”

Ianto felt Jack’s brow.  Too warm, perhaps, but only fractionally.

“How do you feel?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does anything hurt?”

“Shouldn’t it?”

“Shouldn’t what?”

“Shouldn’t it hurt?”

“What’s the ‘it’?  What’s the ‘it’ that should hurt?”

“My brother.”

Ianto flinched, but his ensuing words were deliberately kind in tone.

“Of course, yes, that would hurt.”

“I let go of his hand.”

“That wasn’t your…”

“I’ll never find him.  I’ve spent my entire life looking, but…  I lost him, Ianto, I lost him and…”

Jack’s words disappeared into tears, and Ianto gathered the distraught man to him, rocking and shushing, wondering how honest to be, or if Jack’s sorrow was worth everyone’s safety.  If this unpredictable Jack didn’t know where Gray was, if he remained unable to remember, he couldn’t release him.  It made perfect sense to keep quiet about Gray, and it would have been relatively easy decision to live with if it hadn’t felt like such a betrayal.

“What if we look together?  Jack?  When you’re feeling a bit better, I’ll help you to find him.”

“You’d do that for me?” Jack whispered brokenly.

“I’d do anything for you.  It’s one of my greatest faults.”

Jack laughed through his tears, and Ianto somehow sensed Jack come back to him.

“What am I crying about?” Jack asked abruptly, laughing some more and squeezing Ianto tightly.  “I don’t know.  I don’t know.”  He wiped his eyes and sniffed.  “I don’t know.”

“I take it you don’t know,” Ianto teased, leaving Jack giggling into the kiss Ianto just about managed to place on his mouth.  “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast!” came a joyful squeal from the other side of the bedroom door, and Ianto opened it to find Eleth standing – or rather bouncing – there.  “Breakfast!”

“You should have knocked,” Ianto told her, and he showed her how that worked.

She nodded her understanding.

“Geshka,” she said slowly and patiently as she rapped on the wood, “b’nar,” she indicated the door itself.  “Geshka b’nar.”

“Oh, right,” Ianto grinned, “so this…” the door “…is b’nar?”  Eleth gave him a quick round of applause.  Ianto knocked.  “Geshka…b’nar.”  More applause.  Ianto turned and gently knocked on Jack’s head.  “Geshka Jack?”

Eleth danced on the spot in pure delight, then ushered Ianto and Jack through the flat to the kitchen, naming items in her own tongue as she went.  The scrambled eggs and toast that Ianto prepared rapidly disappeared when placed before Jack and Eleth, and he leant against the counter and watched the two interact.  Eleth made Jack reminisce, and Jack made Eleth talk.  Jack’s older memories had far more clarity than his present thoughts, and Eleth’s speech…  Ianto was amazed at how rapidly her knowledge of their language had progressed in such a short time, and it was in his nature to be a little suspicious of anything that could be categorised as amazing.

The guileless smile Eleth offered him in thanks for the food was quite disarming, but he would talk to her later, find out if she’d been conning them in any way.  Take suitable action if she had.  He may have felt protective toward her, but those feelings paled into insignificance when compared to the equivalent emotions he felt for Jack and Gwen, even for Rhys.

…

Ianto kept a close eye out for John Hart as they walked back to the Hub but there was no sign of him.  As Jack and Eleth continued to talk, Ianto re-analysed what Hart had said, dissecting every phrase and nuance.

Let’s say I have plans for him.

That was guaranteed to leave Ianto fighting wave after wave of anger, but it was beginning to pale into insignificance beside words that, at the time, Ianto had considered nothing more than a by-product of Hart’s delusional belief of his importance to Jack.

He needs me.  In ways you haven’t begun to figure out.  Not yet, at least.

There was something decidedly ominous in that message and Ianto was determined to know what it was, even if it meant tracking Hart down and beating it out of him.  If, during his time stalking the team, Hart had noticed Jack’s growing vagueness and recognised it from a past episode – more to the point, if he knew how to treat it – he couldn’t be allowed to keep that information to himself.

A burst of laughter from Eleth caught Ianto’s attention and, seeing that he was back with them, she risked letting go of Jack’s hand long enough to take Ianto’s, and proceeded to relay a garbled version of the joke Jack had just patiently explained the punch line of.  Ianto had heard the joke before, and laughed in exactly the right place despite the back-to-front version of it the alien told, charming her and earning himself another of Jack’s infamous grins.

For a single speck of time Ianto was happy.  Entirely happy.

Then Jack couldn’t remember where they worked, and the day started for real.

…

Once inside the Hub, Eleth took herself off to her cell without a word, and Jack began checking the night’s readings to ensure they hadn’t missed anything vital.

“Can I interrupt?” Ianto asked, when Jack seemed to naturally pause.

“Of course,” Jack smiled.

Ianto braced himself.

“Do you know if our cryogenics facility was originally designed and calibrated to revive the contents?”

Jack frowned in thought.

“Have you checked the blueprints?”

“Yes, and there’s nothing to indicate it, but I’m concerned that both the programme and schematics may have been tampered with.”

“What makes you think that?”

Ianto faltered.  How much damage would the truth do?  Too much, he decided.

“Neuroses?”

“Okay.  I don’t remember our unit ever being able to revive people, but that’s not much of a consolation right now, I imagine.”  Ianto smiled apologetically.  “So get…get…”  The name did not spring to Jack’s lips.  “Get that guy you’re in contact with to check everything over.”

“Tom Caldwell?”

“That’s the one.”

“I did.  He seems to agree with you.”

“Then stop worrying.”

“But, what if…”

“You have to let it go.  That kind of thinking will grind us to a halt.  If…if…”

“Tom?”

“…and I are wrong, the consequences will be dealt with when they become relevant.  Second guessing every single eventuality is impossible.  Right now, priorities…priorities…”

“Take priority?”

“Exactly.”  Jack turned back to his work, but threw a glance over his shoulder.  “Nice suit, by the way.  Or did I already say that?”

“Always good to hear,” Ianto answered distractedly, already questioning how easily and thoroughly Hart had been able to torment him, but soon dismissing those non-productive thoughts to concentrate on Jack’s advice: a) stop worrying – not as simple as it sounded, but after reassurances from both Jack and Caldwell, he’d get there; b) priorities.  Yes, priorities…

Ianto contacted Catherine Cullen, grateful that her security clearance was such that he could be fairly frank about Torchwood and its work, and their requirements in a doctor.  He explained the dangers, being scrupulously honest about Torchwood’s high mortality rate, then, having thrown out just about every Torchwood employment rule and regulation in this approach, told her of their current predicament.  Yes, she would give the offer careful consideration, taking his advice to focus on the hazards as well as the undeniably appealing challenges, but Ianto was pretty sure the deal was done by the time he hung up the phone.

Gwen breezed in with Rhys in tow not long after, vastly improved in both spirits and confidence; despite Ianto’s reluctance to bring her down with a reminder about their replacement for Owen, Gwen took the news in her stride and heaped praise upon Ianto for finding someone so good, so fast.  She hugged Jack and, while he was distracted, stole the readouts he’d been studying.  Ten minutes later, and sufficiently clued up on an alien device that was gradually terraforming a local school playground, she left with a bounce in her step.

“The Prozac finally kicked in,” Rhys announced cheerfully as he ambled after her, hands held together in a gesture of prayer; that information saved Ianto from having to search their database for shapeshifters and body-stealing aliens, but left him wondering whether he should forge himself a prescription.

Alone again, Jack and Ianto drifted together, Jack wanting contact and Ianto still wanting answers.

“John Hart,” Ianto said by way of introduction, keeping a firm grip on Jack in anticipation of the usual reaction.  As predicted, Jack tugged away, ready to pace and panic; Ianto tugged him back.

“What’s he done?” Jack demanded.  “Has he hurt somebody?”

“No, Jack.”

“Killed somebody?  If he has…”

“He hasn’t, so calm down.”

“How do we know?  I let him walk out of here, and…”

“Jack.”  Ianto snapped Jack’s name so harshly that it had the desired effect: Jack fell still and quiet, gazing at Ianto in guarded expectation.  “Listening?”  Jack nodded.  “Calm?”  Jack nodded again.  “Good.  I need you to think.”  Nod.  Ianto considered how to phrase this, but soon came to the conclusion that his words had to be clear and the meaning unambiguous.  “Do you need him?  John Hart.  Can you think of any reason at all why you would need him in the future?”

“Why?  Is he dead?”  Jack buried his face in Ianto’s neck.  “Please let him be dead.”

“Sorry.  No.”

“I don’t need him, I don’t want him, I don’t want him anywhere near us, anywhere near this planet.  So many people, Ianto, and it was all my fault.  So many dead.  All my fault.”

“I didn’t want to upset you, but I had to ask.”

“I don’t need him.”

Ianto held and rocked Jack, letting him recover at his own pace.  He now had to decide if Jack’s adamant insistence that Hart was unneeded was any more than a kneejerk reaction in a strained situation.  Hardly a considered reply, after all, but one that Ianto was eager to hear.  And surely that made both of them unreliable where Hart was involved?

As Jack’s bruising grip loosened, Ianto was finally able to sit the captain down in his office with a mug of coffee and a pile of paperwork that had been waiting weeks for signatures.  Jack sighed melodramatically and threw a pathetic ‘save me’ look at Ianto.  Now that was sane Jack, and he could consider himself rumbled.

“You’re not fooling anyone,” Ianto told him.  “Get on with it.”

Jack sighed again, and got on with it.

…

Ianto hadn’t been looking forward to confronting Eleth with his doubts, but when he delivered her mid-morning snack it was the obvious opportunity, and one that he wouldn’t let himself miss.

She chattered on about Jack this and Jack that as she munched her way through crisps and fruit, another Harkness-smitten female to add to the vast list, but her enthusiasm tailed off as she began to notice how serious Ianto was.

“Ianto?”

Ianto accepted the prompt, bringing a chair into the cell and sitting opposite her.  He took a moment to compose his thoughts.

“Eleth…  You understand everything I say to you now, don’t you.”

“Nearly every word.  If I am not, I have…”  She located and waved the translator.

“You understand the meaning of truth?  Of honesty?”

“Yes.”

“As a person, do you feel morally compelled to be honest?”

“I…?”

Ianto took and tapped his question into the translator.  Eleth read.

“Do you feel morally compelled to be honest?” Ianto repeated.

“Yes.”

“Because I need to ask you something, and if I suspect you are not being honest, there will be serious repercussions.  Do you understand?”

Eleth sat up straight in her seat, grave-faced and, for the first time, appearing older than her childlike facade.

“Go ahead, Ianto.  I will not disappoint you.”

Ianto paused, studying Eleth and noting the signs of stress despite her bravery.  Where she came from, an interview like this might have led to all manner of dire consequences, and he hated frightening her.  He relished being her saviour, he was meant to be about food and warmth and comfort, not the fear he could see growing in her eyes.

“How did you learn our language so fast?” he eventually asked.

Eleth didn’t attempt to hide her surprise; she pointed adamantly at Ianto.

“You.  You help me.”

“English is a difficult language, it isn’t one that is usually assimilated within days.”

“I see.”  Eleth now scrutinised Ianto.  “Can you be trusted?  Are Ianto honest?”

“Yes,” Ianto assured her.  “But not if it’s to the detriment of my friends.”

Eleth evidently appreciated that and shook her head,

“I would not expect that.”

After a few seconds of visible internal debate she made her decision and turned to the items she’d had with her when she came through the Rift.  One of them was a soft and squishy…something.  Nothing more than the equivalent of a child’s toy, a memento of home, Jack and Gwen had decided before allowing her to keep it.  Now Eleth carefully probed a loose seam and retrieved a tiny tablet that she offered to Ianto.

“From a plant on my world.  It makes better the…” she groped for the word Ianto had used “…assimilated of information.  Lets what you know inside to be more.  Harmless plant but of use.”  Eleth took a sharp breath before impassioned words tumbled from her.  “I will learn, for Ianto and for Jack and for Gwen and for Rhys, I will be fit here in, I will learn and be fit here in and a good girl and never go home, never go home.”

“That’s right.  I wouldn’t send you back there even if I could.”

Ianto stared at the tablet, almost embarrassed that his first thought had been whether he himself could use the pill to enhance his learning capabilities and be of more use to the team.  Almost embarrassed.  He probably should have spent his time being more embarrassed at how quickly and willingly he stopped mistrusting the little alien.

“I am not the spy,” Eleth assured him.  “You have not shown me to any information that would make me of useful to your enemies.  And I am not the spy.”

“As we’re being honest,” Ianto offered with an apologetic smile, “I never believed that for a moment.  Not really.”

Eleth very nearly wept with relief; she took several minutes to recover her composure.

“I am not offended by your doubting.”

“Since we lost Tosh and Owen…” Ianto started wistfully, but found himself unable to continue.  He shrugged, and Eleth patted his shoulder in comfort, an exact copy of how Ianto would usually reassure her.  They shared a forlorn smile, and he went back to examining the pill.

“You want to eat it,” Eleth observed.

“I’m studying technology.  I could do with a short cut.  Would this work for me?”

“I think it might.  Work or make you sick.”

“How sick?”

Eleth checked her translator.

“Sick as a parrot,” she said solemnly, “but not for the long time.  One day?  On my world some people are being allergic to the plant, but are only sick as a parrot for one day.”

“I shouldn’t even be considering this.”

“I am happy if I do repay your kindness.  But this cannot be not a secret.  At home it is fighted over, that must not happen here.  At home…  At home everything is fighted over.”  Now it was Ianto’s turn to console Eleth, and after a few sniffles she recovered, making a great show of hiding the squishy toy away.  “A secret,” she insisted.

“A secret,” Ianto agreed, slipping the pill into the inside pocket of his jacket, knowing there was every chance that he would use it and being both impressed and appalled at his own recklessness.

…

Gwen and Ianto made an exchange on her return to the Hub: Eleth’s immediate future for the terraforming device.  Gwen gained the responsibility of talking the Swansea couple into taking on a lodger as, after consideration, Ianto was sure she could be far more persuasive than him.  Armed with photographs of Eleth looking her sweetest and most vulnerable, Gwen set off for Swansea, convinced that a face-to-face approach was the best.  Reminding Ianto of her old self, she firmly held Rhys’ hand and tugged him along as he jokingly protested about forgotten promises of pubs and lunches.

Ianto watched them go, mildly envious of all they had.  He wondered if Jack would ever hold his hand like that.

“Maybe now that he’s mad,” Ianto murmured to himself, turning to the gadget he’d been given and gleaning as much information as he could, before cataloguing it and finding safe storage.

“What’s that?” Jack asked, emerging from his office as Ianto set the sealed case to one side.

“It’s the terraforming device, the one that was turning Cardiff High’s playground into a jungle.  It’s ready to be stored as pending.  I thought it could be studied at a later date, when we have the right personnel for the job.”

“I could take a look.”

“Not now.”

Ianto gave Jack an edgy smile, not wanting this to blow up in their faces.  As Jack stared at him, curious rather than cross, he quickly turned his attention to making sense of the jumble of papers Jack had thrown from his office in a fit of temper a short while before.

“Tell me why you don’t want me to do my job,” Jack said, sounding perfectly reasonable.

“I need you to concentrate on this paperwork.  If you start taking that device apart you’ll be at it for hours and…”

“The paperwork can wait another day.”

“You’ve been saying that for…”

“Ianto,” Jack snapped, “any chance you can stop that for a moment?  I’d rather talk to your face than the back of your head.”

Ianto set down the sheaf of papers in his hand, steeled himself, and swivelled.

“Yes, Jack?”

“You don’t trust me with that device.”

“I…  It’s not…”  Ianto took a deep breath.  “No.”

“But I’m okay.  Right now, I’m okay,” Jack swore.

The stoic expression that Ianto had managed to plaster on his face crumbled a little.

“Right now.  And for how much longer?”  They both knew that there was no way Jack could answer that.  Ianto took a moment to pluck up some courage: reintroducing the subject of seeking help for Jack was always tricky.  “Jack…  I’m fairly sure that Catherine Cullen will accept…”

“Who?”

“Catherine Cullen.  Our new doctor.  Well, assuming she says yes to the offer I made her, and I’m fairly sure she will.”

“Catherine Cullen,” Jack repeated thoughtfully, before peering suspiciously at Ianto.  “I okayed this?”

“Ultimately, she was your choice.”

“I guess I have to trust you on this.”

“And you can.  You know that.”  Jack gave a quick nod.  “Good,” Ianto smiled.  “Now, when she gets here, I want her first priority to be you, to find out…”

“No.”

“Jack…”

“I can’t have our own doctor, someone who doesn’t even know me…”

“But you wouldn’t let me ask Martha for help because she does know you.”

“No.”

“Please, Jack, please don’t let pride get in the way of your wellbeing.”

“You couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Really?”  Ianto stopped short; his tone became so cold it was bordering on icy.  “Sorry to be so dense, I must be a great disappointment to you.”

“Don’t…”

“Very well.  I won’t.”  Ianto gathered the heap of papers he’d been sorting.  “I take it you’re not using your office?”

“Ianto…”

“Good.  Then you won’t mind if I do.”

Ianto swept past Jack and deliberately ignored the tetchy look that was shot in his direction.  He dumped the papers on Jack’s desk and sat staring at the mess.

“They’re always difficult relationships,” Jack said from where he was now propped in the doorway, “doctors and me.  Any doctor, not just this new one.”

“You need help.”

There was a substantial pause before Jack nodded.

“Yes.”

“You’ve been brushing me off for weeks, every time I’ve suggested…whatever I’ve suggested.”

“I know.  Or at least…I think I know.”

“You will be helped, whether you like it or not, even if you end up hating me.”

Jack strolled a few steps into the room, pausing awkwardly, hands fisted in his pockets.

“I can’t do it for me, Ianto.  How about I do it for you?”

“It’s not right, but I’ll settle for that.  Do it for me, or for Gwen, or for your bloody Doctor, should he click his fingers and expect you to go running.”

“For you,” Jack insisted.

“Difficult relationships with doctors?  That one must be immeasurably beyond difficult, what with the devotion being so unpleasantly one-sided.”

Jack could do little more than agree with Ianto’s quiet disdain.

“This one, this version…  He’s not the man—”

“You fell in love with?” Ianto finished for him, unable to stifle an ironic chuckle.  “Are they ever?”

“Occasionally they live up to their early promise.  I seem to be lucky this time.”

Jack’s gentle words may not have been intended to strip away Ianto’s snarky defences, but they worked like a dream.  He met Jack’s eyes, breaking heart on his sleeve.

“Whatever it takes, Jack.  To make you right, keep you whole.  I won’t lose you.  I won’t fucking lose you.”

Jack crossed to Ianto and hauled him to his feet, hugging him tightly and being the comforter for the first time in far too long.

“You’re right.  You won’t lose me.  I promise.”

“You won’t shut me up with platitudes,” Ianto warned.  “I mean it: when Doctor Cullen gets here…”

“Ianto, be shut up.  Just for now, just for me.”

Ianto struggled to free himself for all of three seconds; it was easy to give up when he didn’t really want to be let go of.  With a fake defeated groan, he let himself relax against Jack’s body, relishing the solid strength of it.  He turned his head and nuzzled Jack’s cheek.

“You’re more honest when you’re mad,” he whispered.

“Hmm?” Jack smiled.

“Apparently, you don’t want him to see you like this.”

“Did I say that?”

“Yes.  He thinks you’re wrong, and you don’t want him to think you’re crazy too.”

Jack gave an unexpected laugh.

“Maybe.”

“It’s funny?”

“No.  Well…yes.  The madder I sound, the more I sound like him.  Figure that out.”

Ianto was rapidly passing the point of figuring anything out: the heat of Jack, the scent of him, was driving out any thoughts other than the carnal variety.  Their proximity ensured that Jack couldn’t fail to notice Ianto’s growing arousal; Ianto couldn’t fail to notice the lack of interest from Jack and he hated it.  Hated it.

“Jack…” he murmured as he licked the spot behind Jack’s ear that used to make his lover’s knees go weak.  “We’ll be alone for hours.”

Ianto felt Jack’s body stiffen, and not in a pleasurable way.

“Why?  Where’s Gwen?”

“Swansea.  Perfectly safe.  A friendly interview.  She’s safe.  So—”

One second Jack was there, the next he was gone and Ianto was clutching at thin air.

“We’ll track the SUV, just to be sure everything’s okay,” Jack announced as he hurried out of the office.

“We don’t need to…”

“I’ll be happier if we do.  Is Rhys with her?”

Ianto let out a miserable, frustrated sigh as he joined Jack at Toshiko’s – his own – workstation.

“Yes, Rhys is with her.”

Jack sat down and focused on the top monitor, staring obsessively at the blip that represented the SUV.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you, Ianto?  You’re staying here.  Tell me you’re staying here.”

“I’m staying here,” Ianto grudgingly complied.

Ianto considered a campaign of verbal sniping and high-decibel grumbling to regain Jack’s attention, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.  If he was consigned to quarters, the only other company was Eleth, which wasn’t the worst thing in the world.  He thought about what games were lying around the place and decided to teach the alien snakes and ladders, assuming she’d appreciate something that was fun, rather than being taught a classic like chess.  Not expecting a response, he told Jack where he’d be, and abandoned him to his present fixation.

“You must be very proud,” Jack called after him, eyes never leaving the screen.

Ianto meandered to a thoughtful halt and turned back with a frown.

“Proud,” Ianto considered.  “About…?”

“Your daughter.  She’s a lovely girl.”

“My—  You mean Eleth.”

“She’s a lovely girl.”

“Yes,” Ianto agreed weakly, and left Mad Jack to it.

…

 “Anyway, the upshot is, they won’t take Eleth.  Apparently, they’re still legitimate targets and are terrified that a hit squad will follow her through the Rift and be led to them.  It’s not that they weren’t sympathetic,” Gwen explained, “but you could see the trauma behind their eyes.  All these years and they still haven’t recovered from what they went through before they left their own world.  If you’d met them you wouldn’t blame them for not wanting to put their lives at risk again.”

“They were cacking it,” Rhys elucidated, “plain and simple.  Bloody cowards who wouldn’t put themselves out for a child.”

“She’s not a child,” Ianto and Gwen said together.

“Who are we talking about again?” Jack asked.

“Eleth,” Ianto and Gwen explained, again together.

Rhys applauded.

“Once more and I’ll sell you to a circus.”

“Why does Eleth have to go anywhere?” Jack continued.

“She can’t stay here,” Ianto told him for the sixth time.

“But she’s…”

“No, she isn’t my daughter, she came through the Rift and we’ve been taking care of her,” also for the sixth time.

“What if we take her?” Rhys suggested to Gwen.

“And put her where exactly?  Long term, we don’t have the space.  Are you suggesting she lives in a cupboard?”

“We could move.”

“No, we couldn’t.”

“There’s Bruce’s place, I suppose,” Ianto said slowly.  “No-one’s got any claim to it.  Maybe…maybe we could turn it into a sort of halfway house for alien refugees.”

“Is that really practical?” Gwen asked, but it was obvious her mind was already racing ahead.

“Might be.”

Jack tapped the boardroom table until he had everyone’s attention.

“What does Eleth want?”

“To stay here,” Ianto answered without hesitation.

“When you say here…?”

“The Hub, with us.”

“Is that feasible?”

“From what she’s told me, it’s possible she could live for another century; she needs to make a life for herself.”

“I’ll take a look at Bruce’s house,” Gwen volunteered, “see what can be done.”

“We could move in there, and she could…”

“No,” Gwen snapped at Rhys, who grinned back, clearly teasing.  Gwen’s eyes filled with mischief, even as she shook her head warningly at him.  “I’ll go there tomorrow and take a look around, while Rhys is at work,” she finished pointedly.

“Meanwhile, Eleth stays here,” Jack cheerfully concluded.

Ianto had no choice but to agree to the arrangement.

“She’s quite content to live in that cell,” he said, almost to himself.  “If that’s such a huge step up for her, how was she living a week ago?  Doesn’t bear thinking about.”

On that sombre note, the meeting broke up, but Jack remained, growing increasingly twitchy, as Ianto cleared up mugs and biscuit crumbs.

“Who’s Bruce?” eventually burst from him.  “Who’s Bruce?”

Ianto sighed, preoccupied and fed up of repeating himself.

“Bruce Fairlus.  That alien we had to deal with last week: the unexplained death.”

“Did I know about this?”

“Yes, Jack, you knew.”

“So, just…some stranger.”

“Yes.”

“Nothing to do with Torchwood.”

“No.  Or not until we were called in to pick up his body.”

“Nothing to do with…say…  You?”

Ianto put down the mugs with a clatter and sank into the nearest chair, crossing his arms on the table and leaning his brow on them.

“I don’t have the strength or inclination for this.”

“You’d tell me.  If there was someone else, you—”

“Someone else?” Ianto laughed.  “Think you leave room for someone else?”  Ianto wearily lifted his head to come face-to-face with Jack’s overblown concern.  “I fell in love with you when a lunatic buried you under Cardiff.  Understand?”

“I couldn’t cope with losing you as well.”

“You don’t have to.  I don’t want anyone else,” Ianto spelt out.

A few more anxious seconds, and then the tension broke; Jack relaxed with a huffed breath and a strangely bashful grin.

“Neither do I.  Want anyone else.  Do you know that?”

Actually, Ianto had wondered about that, and maybe it wasn’t quite as improbable as it sounded.  In fact, taking into account the fierce streak of loyalty that at times virtually personified the man, it would be verging on ridiculous to assume that Jack couldn’t remain focused on one individual.  Besides, his Jack, the Jack that only he was privy to, was quite the romantic and more than capable of that level of devotion.

“I do know,” Ianto smiled.  “Although I’m surprised you’ve plucked up the courage to actually tell me.  You’re more about deeds than words, after all.”

Jack gave a blasé shrug.

“Yeah, well…  Apparently, I’m mad.”

Ianto laughed and let Jack draw him to his feet and into a hug; a little lust in with the love and the moment would have been perfect, but Ianto accepted Jack’s current limitations and cherished what they had, before Jack simply forgot they had it.

…

Memory jogged by a déjà vu moment care of Jack’s office windows, Ianto hoped that if he hurried he could catch the barbers before it closed.  He soon discovered, rather upsettingly, that he needn’t have rushed at all: the old-fashioned establishment that he had frequented since his father had taken him there as a young boy for his first trim, was in one of the zones still closed off after the explosions that had so recently rocked Cardiff.

In shock, Ianto stood beyond the barriers and stared at the ruins of buildings he had known all his life, letting the bleakness wash over him.  His city was as scarred as his team, and it was impossible to avoid that depressing truth.  Recovery was a long way away.

As he turned back toward the direction of the bay, Ianto registered movement on the periphery of his vision: John Hart lurking in a poorly lit corner?  That would have been the final insult to all this injury, and Ianto’s hand was already reaching for the gun that spent less and less time in his desk every day.  But the shadow was empty and, although that proved nothing, Ianto’s concerns about Hart and what he was potentially capable of rose exponentially.

He raced back to the Hub, back to Jack, and as he ran, he promised himself a satisfactory end to John Hart’s mind games.  Before long, the man would be successfully dealt with, and, with any luck, that would involve a long journey to the far side of the universe.  It was, ironically, only a matter of time.

…

Despite being left napping, Jack had disappeared by the time Ianto returned to their base, and he wasn’t answering any hails.  Once again Ianto’s panic level soared and he ran a hurried check, ensuring that Gray was precisely where Gray should be.  That done, he scoured the CCTV, eventually finding Jack wandering aimlessly through some of the deepest vaults.  At least that was harmless, Ianto acknowledged, as he sat back on his stool and wiped the sweat from his face, dragging his fingers through his hair and cursing to himself about nothing and everything, a string of semi-focused profanities incorporating every language he knew.

Gwen had left a note saying that she and Rhys had taken Eleth out for a meal and would let her sleep on the sofa that night, so there was no-one beyond the usual compliment of dinosaur and weevils to occupy Ianto, and the minutes dragged by with slow tedium.

It was nearly two hours before Jack made a decision about where he was going, and Ianto was ready for him, heading him off before he got to the autopsy room, with its tempting access to their cryogenic facilities.

“Shall we go and get something to eat?” Ianto offered, trying not to show his concern over Jack’s possible intentions.

The look Jack threw at Ianto was blatantly accusing, but he simply said,

“Go home, Ianto, you look tired.”

“Tired and hungry.  C’mon, we can pick up something and…”

“I’m busy.”

Unable to miss Jack’s growing irritation, Ianto adopted his most soothing tone.

“You can choose what we have.”

“I’m fed up with you checking on me, I feel like I have no privacy at all.  This is my home, for fuck’s sake!”

“I know that, but…”

“Go.  Go away.  Give me some peace and quiet.  Some solitude.  I like my own company, it’s what I’m used to.”

“Recently, you’ve liked it better with me here.”

“Is that true?” Jack challenged.  “Or simply what you want me to believe?”

“It’s true.”

“’Cause I’m not so sure any more.  No-one can manipulate me quite the way you do.”

“Why would I be doing that?”

Jack gave Ianto a knowing glance, snorting a laugh and shaking his head.

“Go home, Ianto.”

Jack started to walk away and Ianto rushed to get in front of him, taking Jack’s hand and holding on tightly.

“I don’t want to go alone.  I don’t want to be alone.”

“If you thought I was sane you’d be gone by now.”

“That’s not it at all.”

“I don’t think I’m crazy.  You telling me I’m crazy makes me think I’m crazy.  I’m unhappy and tired and struggling to cope, but I’m not crazy.”

“I know you’re struggling, that’s why I want to…”

“I’m fine, Ianto.  Fine enough for you to stop playing nursemaid.  Go home, leave me in peace.”

Ianto was very aware that his best caring expression was growing a little rigid.

“You’re fine,” Ianto confirmed tightly.

“Absolutely.”

“As normal.”

“That’s pretty sweeping, but…yeah.  Why not.”

“Why not?  Want a list as long as your arm?”

Jack prised his hand away from Ianto’s and, after a lingering look in the direction of the autopsy room, started for his office.

“Go home now and you won’t be disciplined for insubordination.”

“How about I stay and we get back to real normal, absolute normal?”

With a short-tempered exhalation of breath, Jack turned back.

“Absolute normal?” he questioned.

“Yes.”  Ianto came to him, so close that Jack felt compelled to reverse half a step.  “Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me.  That’s normal, our normal, and I’ve missed it.  Missed you.”

Jack shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other and back.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“That’s a first!  Kiss me, Jack.  I gave you the chance to end this, end us, and you didn’t want to – emphatically didn’t want to – so I imagine you still want to kiss me.  Do it.  Kiss me.”

“You gave me…  Really?”  Jack frowned; evidently he’d forgotten that particular conversation and didn’t like the sound of it.  “Ianto, I…”

“Please?”  Ianto’s voice had softened; it had a power that his stronger tones didn’t possess.  Jack tried not to look at Ianto’s mouth but ended up staring.  “Please, Jack.”

“I…”  Just when it appeared as if Jack might capitulate, might at least try, he stepped back, threw up his hands in annoyance, and brusquely gestured Ianto away.  “Stop doing this!”

“Doing what?  Wanting you?”

“Confusing me.  You’re doing this, you’re the one doing the damage!”

“No, Jack, I would never…”

“Get out!  Get away from me.  I’m sane when you’re not here.”

It was Mad Jack talking, Ianto knew that, but it hurt to hear any version of his partner speaking to him in such a way and, worse still, believing that Ianto would ever do anything to damage him.  For once Ianto didn’t even attempt to hide how wounded he felt: his expressive eyes were full of pain as he turned from Jack, giving a brief nod to acknowledge the order he’d been given and going to his workstation.

“What are you doing?” Jack demanded.

“Closing down my work.  Couple of minutes and I’ll be out of here.”

Jack gave a disgruntled nod and began to pace, but he was worn out and becoming sluggish, Ianto could see that.

Ianto did close his work down, but not before he’d hurriedly altered one crucial password to prevent Gray’s chamber being activated, and texted it to Gwen without an accompanying explanation: if anything happened to him and Jack started whining about losing access to his brother, she’d know immediately what it was.

As he was leaving, Ianto glanced over his shoulder and saw Jack wilt onto the sofa.  That was promising.  With any luck Jack would be exhausted enough to fall asleep the minute he was left alone.  That way he wouldn’t discover the changed code and spend the night convincing himself he was right about Ianto being untrustworthy.

…

Ianto spent a while by the bay, fooling himself he was enjoying the peaceful ambience when, in reality, walking away from Jack in his present condition was a huge wrench.  He hadn’t heard from Doctor Cullen but was still clinging to the hope that she would take the job and prove to be as brilliant and insightful as her reputation suggested.  Although, she’d be all, “Where are the aliens?” and Ianto would be like a spoilsport parent: “No aliens until you fix Jack”.  Unfortunately the analogy of eating greens to earn ice cream turned to thoughts of eating Jack to earn orgasms, and Ianto was covertly adjusting himself, cursing the man who had turned him from an averagely horny twenty-something bloke, into a highly selective sex maniac.

It was the thought of a comfortable bed that finally lured him toward home, but not necessarily to sleep.  So distracted was he by erotic thoughts that he was halfway through the short walk before realising there were footsteps behind him.  Long gone were the days of thinking he was overreacting to the innocent presence of a fellow citizen: within seconds he was ducking around a corner and adopting an appropriate stance, gun poised.  He waited, charged with adrenalin, as the footsteps came nearer; he was more than ready to put an end to John Hart’s games if the man gave him so much as a fraction of an excuse.

Breath bated, he timed this confrontation down to a split second, wanting to emerge and ram the gun into Hart’s face, certainly not averse to taking a few teeth out of that smarmy grin.  But the steps faltered and Ianto was instantly afraid of losing his tormentor turned victim.  He made his move, swinging out from the shadows, gun at arm’s length and finger ready on the trigger.

And found himself gazing down the barrel into Jack’s shocked face.

 “Ianto?”

Ianto shuddered through a moment’s anti-climax and lowered, but didn’t re-holster, the gun.

“I thought you were someone else,” he explained, unable to sound anything other than truly pissed off.

“I was hoping that was it,” Jack countered, and although that was clearly meant to be a joke it sounded humourless.  Ianto winced, wondering if Jack trusted him at all anymore.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, scanning and re-scanning the area, making them both edgier than they probably needed to be.

“I said some stupid things to you.  I was sorry and I—  If you think we’re not safe out here, we’d better go back to the Hub.”

Ianto faked a smile and forced himself to put the gun away.  Despite not having any evidence to prove his suspicions, he knew that Hart was close, just as he knew that bastard would be listening in and gloating over Jack’s apology and its inherent implications.

“Ignore me.  Really.  I’m going home, you go back to the Hub if you want.”

“Can I come with you?”

All other considerations were momentarily forgotten.  Right there and then, Ianto was simply a hurt boyfriend who didn’t want to be hurt any more.

“What happened to you only being sane when I wasn’t around?”

“I…  Ianto, I need help.”

Jack’s expression was as open and honest as Ianto had ever seen, and he capitulated without hesitation.  He offered Jack his hand, wondering if Jack would humour him.

“Let’s go home.”

Jack accepted Ianto’s offer, both of them in fact.  Taking Ianto’s hand he held on far more firmly than was necessary, and they began to walk, unconsciously picking up speed in a bid to get ‘home’ as soon as possible.

Once inside his front door, behind locks and bolts, Ianto began to calm down.  Genuinely calm down rather than the act he was putting on for Jack.

“Who did you think it was?” Jack asked as Ianto took the greatcoat and reverently placed it on a hanger.

“Oh, y’know…  Bailiffs,” he joked.  Jack stared at him, an uncompromising look that demanded the truth.  “I’m just jumpy.  Over nothing in particular, before you ask.  Or maybe…  When I went out earlier, seeing so much of the city still in pieces…  No.  Just…jumpy.”

“Okay.”

Jack accepted that too easily for Ianto, turning away and wandering toward the kitchen.  Something in Ianto finally snapped.

“Frustrated,” he announced, stopping Jack in his tracks.  “Physically, emotionally, take your pick.  Sexually.  Oh, God, yes, sexually.  I want you.  Only fucking desperately.  I want you, and I want you to want me again.  I’ve been so patient, but I miss you.  I miss you.  I want to tear your clothes off and suck your cock until you beg for more.  I want to fuck you and hear you groan all kinds of mindless filth with my name in the middle of it.  I want you to fuck me until I’m…”

“Stop,” Jack ordered as he spun back, face tense and fists clenched.  “Stop.”

“I want you to fuck me.  Want me.  Let me have you before I lose my mind too.”

“Ianto…”

“Kiss me.  For fuck’s sake, just kiss me!  I’ll settle for that.  I’ll settle for you holding me and kissing me while I get myself off.  Jack…  I’ve done things with you that I could never have done with anyone else: subtle and sublime and extreme and…and…terrifying.  Wonderful.  I’m what you made me and now you’ve taken everything away and—  It’s not the sex, not just the sex, it’s what it means, that closeness, that…that…  Life.  You mean life to me, you’ve given me—”  Ianto’s words died on his lips as Jack collapsed onto the edge of the sofa, face in his hands.  Hurrying across, he fell to his knees between Jack’s feet, dragging his partner into an embrace.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  I don’t want to hurt you.  I’m sorry.  I just miss you so much.”  Ianto forced Jack’s head up and swiped away tears with his thumbs.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Jack whispered hoarsely.  “It’s me.  I can’t help it.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

“I’m losing everything that’s good, and I’m haunted by the bad.  I’m trying as hard as I can to hold onto you but…  I’m losing you.”

“No.”

“And…  How can you possibly want me any more?  I may as well have killed Toshiko and Owen with my own hands.”

“I’d forgive you if you had.  Somehow, I’d find a way.  Somehow.”

“And now I…”

“You won’t lose me over this, over anything.  I’m just being selfish, and…”

“Ianto.  Ianto.  I am losing you.  In my mind.  I’m losing you, and soon…soon I won’t even remember what I’ve lost.”

“We won’t let that happen.”

Ianto’s words were a fervent vow that Jack seemed able to believe.  Gratitude filled his features and he finally touched Ianto in return, hands strangely awkward upon the young man’s forearms.

“Tell me what to do.  What you want, now.”

“You mean…?”

Jack nodded; Ianto felt guilty, and horribly self-centred, and…

“Tell me,” Jack urged.  “Now.”

“I won’t use you.  That’s how it all began, and I won’t do that to you again.”

“This isn’t—  You’re not using me, Ianto, I need this.  I need this.”

Murmuring assurances, Ianto eased Jack further onto the sofa; as soon as he had access, he crawled up and sat astride Jack’s lap, tenderly caressing his face.  Jack slowly closed his eyes, basking in the attention, very nearly at peace.

“Want to kiss me?” Ianto whispered.

Jack’s eyes fluttered open, and his gaze automatically went to Ianto’s mouth.  His head made the slightest move forward before he stopped, and his distress returned.

“I can’t…  I’m sorry, Ianto, I…  I can’t remember how to.  I can’t remember how to kiss you.”

Shocked that the cause of his rejection was so horribly simple, Ianto soothed Jack with yet more gentle touches.

“It’s all right, that’s all right.”

“But I can’t remember…”

“Want to be kissed?” Ianto asked, quite breathless, ridiculously turned on by Jack’s innocence and, in these extraordinary circumstances, far too shallow to be embarrassed by that.  “Say yes.  Please.”

He felt the groan rumble up from Jack’s chest.

“Yes.”

“Sure?”

“Remind me.  Of us.  Of everything I’ve forgotten.”

Ianto slowly leaned in and brushed his lips over Jack’s.

“Okay?” he murmured.

“More.”

Happy to oblige, Ianto allowed a little more of his enthusiasm to seep into the next kiss, and just as he was starting to sit back, he felt Jack’s hands clench around his biceps.  He got the message.

“Not stopping,” he promised, virtually into Jack’s mouth, and then he was kissing him hard and passionately, delighted at regaining what he’d feared permanently lost.

Jack’s tongue tentatively responded when Ianto’s went exploring, encouraged to boldness by the rough inhalation Ianto took; Jack kissed him, at last, really kissed him, and Ianto moaned in pleasure, squirming in Jack’s lap, attempting to make the kind of contact he truly desired, the kind of contact…that wasn’t there.  Wasn’t possible without Jack being as hard as he was.  Evading Jack’s mouth, Ianto now drew back, eyes dropping and searching for any sign of arousal.  This was Jack, for God’s sake!  But…nothing.

“Ianto…”

Ianto scrambled to his feet and took Jack’s hands, pulling him up and along.

“Come with me,” he told him, aware of the irony in his words as he tugged Jack into the bedroom.

Kicking the door shut behind him, his hands instantly began to undress Jack, working with mindless familiarity as Jack moved in for more kisses.  Clumsy kisses, kisses that Ianto somehow loved far more than the talented variety of times past, if only because they meant Jack was fighting back against whatever was trying to destroy what they had.

Naked and beautiful, so desirable, Jack was eased onto the bed to wait for Ianto to carelessly remove his own clothes, tossing them aside with uncharacteristic disregard.  Jack watched with interest but no heat, and when Ianto stood before him, bare and erect, twitching with need, his hand went to his own, flaccid cock and explored with curiosity rather than arousal.

Pushing Jack flat on the bed, Ianto laid beside him and kissed him again and again, deep, searing, one-sided kisses, all the while treating his body to the kind of attention he adored, the brand of clever touches that Jack would go so far as to plead for if Ianto was ever being less than obliging.  Ianto left Jack’s mouth, teasing and tasting his jaw and neck and shoulders, teeth and tongue coming into play as Ianto reached flat, soft nipples and tickled, sucked, nibbled, did all he could to bring them to life.

“Ianto.  Ianto.”

Jack grasped Ianto by the shoulders and tugged him up the bed to meet him face to face.

“I won’t stop.  I will make you feel.”

“That’s just it,” Jack said quietly, a crease forming in his brow as he processed troubling thoughts and the lack of reactions.  “I’m…  I can feel you touching me but, at the same time, I’m kind of…numb.  My skin feels but doesn’t feel.  And inside, there’s nothing at all.  Everything inside me is numb.”

“It’s just taking time,” Ianto insisted, desperate to regain his Jack, kissing him again, grinding his rigid cock against Jack’s hip, knowing how the proof of his arousal would usually spark a fiery response from his lover.  “There are other things I can try, things that will work.”  Ianto’s hand slipped down Jack’s body, urging his legs apart.  “You think you’re numb inside?  I’ll show you it’s the exact opposite.”  Jack jerked his mouth away, and fumbled as he reached out to catch Ianto’s wrist; he brought Ianto’s hand to his chest, cradling it there, doing his best to ignore the sorrow in Ianto’s eyes, to ignore his plea: “Don’t make me stop.”

“If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t remember what I'm missing.”

“No.  No.  How can that be consolation?”

As Jack shrugged against the covers and gave an embarrassed, apologetic smile, Ianto clenched his eyes shut against welling tears, wanting to scream with a frustration that was nothing to do with sex.

“I can love you without this,” Jack offered weakly, “but I know I’ll lose you.”

Ianto’s eyes snapped open to meet Jack’s.

“You won’t,” he swore, calming through necessity rather than choice.  “You won’t lose me, I keep telling you that.”

“When I don’t know you anymore…”

“I’ll be forgotten.  Not lost.  And I won’t forget.  I’ll remember for both of us until you’re well again.”

Now Jack took action, although without any of his usual grace, rolling Ianto and ending up above him, kissing him in a brave imitation of the authentic passion Ianto had shown for him.  After a shivering hesitation, Ianto responded, succumbing to his own needs, wallowing in blissful denial.  Jack’s hand fisted around Ianto’s cock and it took nothing more than a few swift yanks to wrench an orgasm out of him.

The pleasure was enormous, and cruelly fleeting; Ianto was left panting in the aftermath, recovering too quickly and staring at the deep red marks on Jack’s shoulders where he’d been fiercely gripped during his lover’s climactic throes.  Jack’s face, however, showed perfect contentment, and it was he who cleaned Ianto up and rearranged them under the covers, ensuring they were warm and comfortable, a weary tangle of bodies and affection.

As Jack slept in his arms, Ianto found rest hard to come by, feeling deeply ashamed for missing the days when he hadn’t cared this much.  Tormented by their predicament, and growing increasingly obsessed by what seemed to be too perfect a punishment for his quick-witted, sensual partner, he refocused on Gray.  Gray hated Jack but couldn’t kill him.  If Jack continued to lose his faculties he would eventually suffer a living death.  Was this a demented brother’s ultimate revenge?

It would have been simple for Gray to infect Jack: the thought of reviving Gray to find out if he had, chilled Ianto to the bone.  Clutching Jack a little tighter, he concentrated on the promise of a new doctor, and new solutions.  Any solution, in fact, that didn’t involve the resurrection of Gray.