Jack’s first consideration when they arrived back at the Hub was to take fresh samples of their blood and have those and the pure venom taken from the Jukulka couriered to Catherine in London.

Ianto, on the other hand, felt as if he’d travelled in a complete circle.

“Jack, we have to find a new doctor, one who’ll actually stick around to work with us, preferably in the same country.”

“I know, I’ll start looking.”

“Do I ship the Jukulka to UNIT so Martha can examine what’s left, or…?”

“We’ll keep it for now, in case Catherine needs…anything from it.”

Ianto had assigned a mortuary drawer for the alien before Jack finished his sentence.  The next body, he accepted, might not be so easy to tidy away.

“What about Hart?  You want me to effectively bury him?  I can make sure you never have to…”

“No,” Jack said firmly.  “No, I don’t want to forget him.”

Ianto let himself bristle.

“What then?  Shall I have him stuffed and mounted so he can be displayed on a pedestal in your office?”

Jack stared at Ianto in surprise for a moment, before it occurred to him what he’d said, or rather, what he’d implied.

“I don’t want to forget him so I never make the same stupid mistake again,” he told Ianto crossly.  “You really think there’s any more to it than that?”

“No,” Ianto said, quite neutrally, after a split-second pause.

“No?  Then how did I manage to put that look on your face?”

“What look?”

“The one I promised I’d never be responsible for ever again.”

“What look?”

“The look that reminds me that I can never make any of this up to you.  I can never give you Tosh back, I can’t give you the opportunity to find out the truth from Eleth, I can’t…”

“Jack!  There is no look.  There is no blaming you, hating you, or resenting you, all right?  I’m allowed to be miserable without it all being about you.  Get over yourself.”

Ianto turned on his heel and marched off to make arrangements for John’s Hart’s body, reminding himself with every step that he had to take more care around Jack, particularly if Jack remained hyper-sensitive to the merest hint of discontent.

After a shower and change of clothes, Jack turned his attention to the contents of the Jukulka’s duffel, needing to dissect every scrap of information it contained in the hope of diverting any more crimes or assassinations that their employers would send fresh teams to carry out.  Following that, he made a few calls to arrange the relocation of the Swansea couple and a couple of other vulnerable parties who had been targeted for indefinable reasons.  While he was certain that Ianto was out of the way, Jack began trying to piece together events, including, and then excluding Eleth from the big picture.  He checked the readings and reports from the day Eleth came through the Rift, even included information from Ianto’s diary; however he juggled what he discovered, it became more and more obvious that Ianto’s supposition had been correct: everything pointed to Eleth being the Jukulkan decoy.  He called up some of the CCTV footage from her time in the Hub and, watching her interactions with every person who crossed her path, including himself, he could see why there’d never been a hint of suspicion surrounding her.  One piece of footage had been doctored, but that didn’t take much figuring out.  The drug to enhance mental capabilities, the one that had knocked Ianto out, had to have come from a previously unknown source, and this was another time frame that Eleth slotted effortlessly into.

Knowing that Ianto would need as much support as possible under the circumstances, Jack phoned Gwen to explain what he’d discovered, forgetting how attached she’d been to the little alien and belatedly realising this should have been something for him to fix.  It wouldn’t have taken a huge effort, and the results would have been very worthwhile.  Still, he could always fiddle with a few bits and pieces and tell both Ianto and Gwen that it had all been one ghastly mistake.  Or not.  He looked up to find Ianto in the doorway, studying him.

“I’ll get over it,” he told Jack solemnly.  “We’ll all get over it.”

“So, you’re the telepath now?”

Ianto gave him a faint smile.

“Sometimes, you’re just so obvious.”

“If I could make it better for you and Gwen…”

“…and Rhys and his lasagne…”

“…I would.”

“Don’t you think it was a necessary lesson?”

Jack shrugged.

“Seeing your belief in yourself destroyed?  However temporarily?  I’d have to say no.”

“Temporary, is it?”

“Yeah,” Jack promised.  “Temporary.  I guarantee it.”  As Ianto stood there in a daze, mentally dissecting the possibility of recovery, Jack stood and grabbed his greatcoat off the stand.  “C’mon, you,” he ushered Ianto in the direction of the cog door, “I’m buying you dinner, and then…your choice.  We can go for a walk, a drive, movie, whatever.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You will be after the first bite.  And don’t think I haven’t noticed that the happy belly has melted away.  Have to do something about that.  Two desserts.”

“Don’t you want me to be a fashionably thin corpse?”

Jack didn’t even pause.

“When you’re ninety, maybe.  Bit of outer-worldly jiggery-pokery and maybe not even until next century.”

“And what about the toxin?”

“Catherine has that covered.”

“You think?”

“When am I ever wrong?”

Ianto chose not to start on that particular list.

“Feeling delusional, are we?”

“No.  Actually…  No.”  Jack prodded Ianto a little further along.  “Here’s a thought: if, temporarily, you can’t trust yourself, how about you trust my trust in you?”

“Or, how about…we face facts, learn to live with it, and have three desserts?”

“You happier being miserable?”

“Right now?”  Ianto considered that.  “Probably.”

“Okay,” Jack accepted cheerfully.  “You only had to say.”

Taking Ianto’s hand, Jack led them outside, and it was only when they’d arrived at their chosen restaurant did Ianto realise that Jack hadn’t let go for a second.  As if to confirm the observation he squeezed Jack’s hand; Jack responded with an apparently sane reciprocal squeeze and a smile.  Inside Ianto’s chest, a little of the pain seemed to break away; it both surprised and pleased him to find that he was no longer scared by the depth and tenderness of his feelings for Jack.  Maybe he couldn’t trust in Jack’s trust, but he wasn’t beyond attempting to make up for that.  Even if it meant four desserts.

…

Dinner went well, with no interruptions, no weevil alerts, no invasions, no food getting up and walking off the plate, although, in fairness, that had only happened the once.  The Prawnalikes, Gwen had tagged those particular aliens, and they now lived, quite contentedly, in Bournemouth’s Oceanarium.  Although the meal was eaten in virtual silence, it was a comfortable silence, and neither man felt the need to make any kind of effort to break it.

Afterwards they walked back to the bay, once again hand in hand, once again at Jack’s instigation.

“Do you think we’re both a bit in shock?” Ianto eventually asked as they stopped and settled on a bench overlooking the moonlit water.

“It’s been a tough few months,” Jack answered without answering.

“I feel…”  Ianto shrugged.  “A bit out of it.”  Jack moved closer and slid his arm around Ianto’s shoulders.  “I’m all right,” Ianto assured, him, “just…  I d’know.”

“I keep getting that too, you’re not alone.”

“Gray, Hart, or both?”

“Both.  Both of them and…everybody that’s been hurt, I guess.”

“It will be good to see Rhys tomorrow, last time we were anywhere near him he was covered in either blood or bandages.”

“Gwen said he’s recovering well.”

“Not the same as seeing for yourself though, is it.”

“No.”

Ianto reached for Jack’s free hand and linked their fingers together.  Such a minor thing to be happy about, but the connection served to reassure Ianto that he and Jack had reached an understanding.  A place of unshakeable unity.

“I meant to thank you,” Jack suddenly announced, fingers tightening around Ianto’s.

“For?”

Jack allowed himself an introspective smile.

“Not telling Gwen about Frances.”

“It wouldn’t have been right, coming from me,” Ianto replied awkwardly, not entirely sure of what he was and wasn’t supposed to know.  Jack had mentioned his wife in passing but Ianto had unintentionally discovered more when he’d been sorting Jack’s belongings and transferring them to his new quarters.

“It isn’t any kind of secret,” Jack explained.  “But it’s private.”

“I appreciate that.”

“So…  You don’t want to ask anything?”

“Not about Frances.”

“I love that,” Jack sighed.  “Her name in your accent.  Her accent.”

“Frances,” Ianto repeated, emphasising the Welsh lilt.  “Missus Frances Harkness.”

“She would’ve adored you.”

“Ooh, messy,” Ianto winced.

Jack chuckled and inched closer, nuzzling Ianto’s cheek.

“‘Not about Frances’,” he mused, repeating Ianto’s words.  “‘Not about Frances.’  Who then?”

Ianto seriously considered back-tracking, never certain that he was going to like what he heard.  But he really did want to know.

“Rowan.”

Jack was instantly grinning like a madman.

“Rowan.  That’s so long ago.  Damn, that was…”  Jack laughed at himself.  “Complete infatuation.”

“Should’ve guessed,” Ianto muttered to himself before turning his full attention back to Jack.  “Did you ever…?”

“Wash your mouth out, Ianto Jones.  You know I wallow in my crushes, rather than indulge them.  I like…”

“…the extra mileage, yes, I know, you’ve told me often enough.”

“Besides, Rowan may have been gorgeous, but he was straight and gorgeous: horrible combination.”

“Do I remind you of him?”

Jack thought.

“Other than being gorgeous?  No.  But Gwen doesn’t remind me of Frances either.  I think we can safely say that when I was unhinged, I was unhinged.”

“Not unhinged,” Ianto protested, “you just couldn’t remember.  Be nicer to your other self.”

“But I have you to be nice to the both of us.”

Jack kissed a path across Ianto’s cheek and down his neck; Ianto gave a pleasurable shudder.

“Perhaps I should have played hard to get.”

“I’m guessing we’re both glad you didn’t.”  Jack’s fingertips escaped Ianto’s hand to burrow beneath his coat, provocatively stroking the young man’s thigh.  “Perhaps I should remind you why more often.”

“More often?  And when, precisely, would we fit in any work?”

“Well, recently…”

“Recently doesn’t count.  Anyway, I’m serious.  When you came back from seeing your Doctor, maybe I should have been less readily available.  Would you have developed a crush on me, d’you think?  Or am I not crush material?”

Jack gave a snort of amusement.

“You’re crush material and then some.”

“Really?” Ianto grinned, both pleased and amazed that Jack would admit to it.

“Absolutely.  But…”  Jack caught Ianto’s chin and turned his head, needing to be eye-to-eye.  “I wanted you too much, and I wanted something real.”

If Ianto had been in any way serious about playing hard to get, the sincerity and affection in Jack’s eyes would have won him over instantly.

“I suppose it is nicer to be admired at close proximity rather than from afar,” he conceded; a single kiss from Jack was all that was necessary to prove Ianto’s point most succinctly.

“Want to go inside?”

“No,” Ianto answered instantly, without even thinking about it.

Jack sat back a little to look at him in surprise.

“No?  Have a sudden fancy for exhibitionism, ‘cause…”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Jack smothered his disappointment.  “Well, you can just sleep, you don’t have to…”

“It’s the sleep that I don’t want.  I want you, but afterwards…I’ll go to sleep.”

“Ianto, that toxin inside you isn’t going to be triggered now, you’ll go to sleep, you’ll wake up, you don’t have to be scared.  I went for weeks, didn’t I, waking up, always waking up, even when I didn’t know who I was I woke up.”

“I didn’t say I was being rational, did I.”

“How about I don’t go to sleep, that way…”

“Can’t we just sit here for a while longer?”

“What are you going to do if it takes Catherine a week to come up with the antidote?  Or two weeks.  Or a month.”

“Deal with it.”

“Ianto…”

“I could do something for you.  Want me to…”

“No,” Jack told him firmly.  “All or nothing.”

“Don’t believe I’m turning you down,” Ianto muttered.  “When I couldn’t have you I was obsessed with it.  You didn’t know your own name and all I wanted was sex.”

“We’ve talked about this.  How we connect, remember?  Or how we used to.  You wanted what was familiar.”

“I wanted you, I wanted you back, I—”  Ianto sighed.  “I don’t like myself very much sometimes.”

“Well, I like you all the time.  Any consolation in that?”

“I s’pose,” Ianto admitted.

“If you’d just let me show you how much I like you, I could…”

“Stop it.”

“Stop it.  All right.”  Jack gave Ianto a last kiss before settling for a long night’s bay-watching.  “Damn your neuroses.”  Ianto smiled and Jack tried to focus on anything other than how much he wanted to be naked, up close, and erotically personal with the man at his side.

“I’ll pass out eventually,” Ianto said as he snuggled in closer for warmth.  “Then you can do what you like,” he offered with faux innocence.  “Whatever you like.”

Jack gave a tight laugh and shook his head.

“Is there a button you don’t know how to push?”

“Don’t know.  Better keep poking around, just in case I miss something.”

“You’re a horrible tease.”

“You think?  Because I have it on good authority that I’m an excellent tease.”

“I say that?”

Ianto relaxed against Jack, letting his head droop onto his partner’s shoulder.

“Might have been you.”

“Brat.”  Ianto faked a huge yawn.  “Brat,” Jack repeated, far more fondly, and Ianto chuckled softly.

Jack leant his head against Ianto’s and shut his eyes, doing his best not to let the day’s events immediately start to replay behind the closed lids.  His best clearly wasn’t good enough on this occasion, and images flashed through his mind, one after another, distressing, infuriating, heartbreaking.  His head jerked up, eyes snapping open, when he foolishly allowed himself to consider what would have happened if he’d fired his gun a second too late, if Hart’s final vindictive act had been successful.

“Stop thinking about it,” Ianto said quietly.

“Can you?” Jack asked, not bothering to deny what was affecting him.

Ianto took a moment to answer.

“I will.”

“What did Hart say to you?  What did he tell you about me that upset you?  You know there’s so much in my past that I’m not proud of, and…”

“It wasn’t that, it was…a throwaway comment he made about you screaming in rage and grief in the Hub after I’d gone home at night.  That hurts.”

“I just needed…”

“You don’t have to explain, I know what it’s like.  Every time I lose you.”

“Y’know, in future…”

“Don’t talk about the future,” Ianto insisted, but quietly, and there was a sadness in his voice that made his request impossible for Jack to ignore.

“Okay.  For now.  No talking about the future.”

Ianto yawned and returned to the previous subject.

“Yes, he talked about your past.  There were things that I didn’t want to hear.  But however hard he tried, he couldn’t shake my faith in you.  That was the best reason he had for wanting me dead, and we both knew it.”

Taking his time mulling that over, and knowing his ex-partner, Jack could only agree.  When it became undeniably obvious that Jack would never leave Ianto, Hart would have quickly decided that the only logical solution was to completely remove Ianto from the equation.  Jack could hardly credit that he’d been so blind, so busy worrying about the drug in Ianto’s body that he almost failed to keep the body itself in one, living piece.

“Can’t believe I put you in so much danger,” Jack murmured.  “You shouldn’t have set foot inside that bungalow.  I’m so sorry.  I know you don’t want to hear it, but you are so…so…precious to me.  You keep on trusting me, even when it’s questionable whether or not I deserve it, you support me, forgive me for these walking disasters I bring to your city, and I…  Sometimes, I have no idea how I could carry on without you.”  Jack braced himself for a disapproving response, but Ianto remained silent.  “Ianto?”  Jack twitched his shoulder.  “Ianto?”

“Uh…what?  Yes.  No.  What?  Did I fall asleep?  Shit.”

“How about we go to bed.  I’ll keep you safe.”

Sitting up rather groggily, Ianto stretched, then let Jack help him to his feet.

“Keep me safe,” he grumbled, “you can’t even keep me awake.  Fat lot of good you are.”

“Yep, that’s me,” Jack agreed with a smile.  “Fat lot of good.”

Taking Ianto’s hand, Jack brought it up to kiss the knuckles before linking their fingers, and guiding Ianto home.

…

Ianto did sleep, albeit fitfully, and was up before dawn having decided that a complete review of their cryogenic system was in order.  Jack went along with that, quiet and introspective due to the Gray connection but, by the end of the morning, they’d managed to detect the alterations Hart had made to both the blueprints and the equipment itself and reverse the changes.  Once the failsafes had been reset they stopped and looked at one another with unguarded relief: no more surprises from that particular direction.

Ianto made them coffee, and they relaxed on the sofa to drink it.

“Been thinking about Gray?” Ianto asked gently, having been very aware of Jack’s preoccupation.

“One way or another, these days I rarely seem to stop.”

The melancholic quality of Jack’s voice made them both pause and think.  Ianto thought back to his own beloved monster and wished he could put something – anything – right, but the most he could do now was encourage Jack to talk, and never allow him to feel that loving and missing Gray was shameful and off-limits.

“Jack…  If you could have Gray back somehow, anyhow, would you do it?”

Jack considered.

“If it was safe?  Yes, I’d want him back.  Whatever it took, I’d do it, for another chance, to make things rights, to give him a happy and secure life.”  Ianto listened carefully and nodded his understanding.  “Y’know…” Jack sighed wistfully, “I have this fantasy about one day having my own time machine, using it to go back and destroy those creatures before they ever got to Gray.”

“Everything would change.”

“I know, but think of the people I’d save, not just Gray.”

“Yes, but I meant…  I doubt you’d be sitting here.”

“I’d risk that.  I’d risk everything, my past, my future, meeting the Doctor, meeting you.”  Jack glanced warily at Ianto.  “Do you hate me for that?”

“No.  Sometimes, I’d like a time machine too.”

They spent a few minutes lost in thought, privately reliving their respective pasts, then Ianto cleaned away the mugs before visiting their resident weevils to make up for how much they’d been neglected of late, while Jack made a start on the reports that would detail recent occurrences and findings.

…

When Ianto later emerged from the vaults he was greeted first by one of Gwen’s super-hugs, then by a knuckle-cracking handshake from Rhys.  There was a muddle of voices, checks over health and well-being mingling with relief that Hart was no longer a threat and the team (in which Rhys adamantly included himself on this occasion) was back together.  Jack stood aside, observing: Ianto with his visible exhaustion and healing grazes, Gwen and her plastered wrist, Rhys with scraps of dressing peaking out from under his t-shirt.  Torchwood Three.  Falling to pieces scrap by scrap, and still managing to save the population as they did so.

“How about…” he suggested, “I take us out somewhere special, where we can…”  The Rift alarm erupted.  “…all relax!” Jack finished comically over the noise.

The good humour was infectious and assignments were made and taken with light hearts.

“Right, I’m stipulating this before anyone sets a foot outside,” Gwen announced.  “Nobody – and I mean nobody, Jack Harkness – nobody dies.”  It could have been taken solemnly, but giggles soon started, growing to full blown laughter as they bustled together onto the invisible lift and rode up to the Plass.

…

Ianto gazed at their newest gift from the Rift with the latest in a series of deep sighs.  It was a plant.  Probably.  Probably a plant, but somewhat sentient, and thankfully arriving without a Jukulka for company – to say they’d checked the area thoroughly was the understatement of the year.  The plant was harmless, Jack insisted, as he left it in Ianto’s debatably capable hands, and Ianto found himself missing Owen and his unlikely passion for exotic vegetation.

“I’m not good with plants,” he told Gwen as she passed by, still trying to find an appropriate container for their guest.  “You hold it and I’ll look for…”

“I am not having that shite…”

“It’s just a bit of dirt.”

“I am not having that shite sticking to this cast.  Tell me where I can find a pot.”

“Owen’s greenhouse equipment is in storage.”  Just for a second Gwen looked as if she’d been slapped.  “Do you know where…”

“Yes,” she said, falsely bright.  “I’ll go.”

Ianto sighed as she disappeared down the stairs.  And then he sighed again.  The plant rustled, and Ianto wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t crapped in his hand, rather irritatingly proving Gwen’s point.

“Don’t know if you can survive down here,” Ianto told it.  “If you need a good source of light…”

It wasn’t only the plant that would miss the daylight, Ianto admitted to himself.  If he remained living in the Hub there might be periods of time when he’d barely see more than a glimpse of the sun.  Catherine was proving predictably hard to get in touch with, but if her eventual news was positive and a cure had been found, Jack’s primary excuse for moving Ianto into the Hub was no longer relevant.  It took a while to mentally explore the various possibilities, but Ianto came to the firm conclusion that, however much he wanted to be with Jack, there were far better ways of spending time with him than sharing an underground bunker.  In which case…

“Jack!”

Jack strolled from his office.

“Ianto!”

“I’ve been thinking.”  Jack instantly looked wary.  “If our medical issues are successfully resolved I think our living arrangements…”

“Can we discuss that at the time?” Jack interrupted.

“Why not now?”

“I find it hard to take you seriously when your fern keeps winking at me.”

“It’s winking?”

“It’s doing something.  Hope that’s an eye and nothing worse.  Maybe you can point it in another direction, just in case there’s a possibility of projectile diarrhoea.”

Gwen arrived in the nick of time, brandishing a large plastic flower pot, partially filled with compost.

“Here you go.”

With Gwen’s unenthusiastic assistance, Ianto carefully eased the plant into its new home; once it was settled, they found their cheerfully rustling visitor a marginally light spot in the tourist office.  By the time Ianto was ready to carry on his conversation with Jack, the man was no-where to be found.

“Where did Jack go?” Ianto asked Gwen when he’d finished cleaning himself up.

She paused, saving what she’d written of her report on the fern, before looking around with a frown.

“He was here a minute ago.”  She changed the subject with a smile.  “Rhys has gone home to make a start on something special – you and Jack are invited for dinner tonight.”

“Not sure I’ll be much company.”

Gwen studied him sympathetically.

“Yes, you look tired.  Maybe we should leave it for a few days.”

“No.  No, it’ll be nice.  And you can kick me under the table if I start dropping off.”

Ianto sat at his workstation and began an e-mail to Tom Caldwell, ready to bring the man up to speed on what had been happening, and needing to thank him for taking in Gwen and Rhys.  When it came to explaining what he’d extrapolated regarding Eleth, he was lost for words.

“I feel such a fool,” he said quietly.  “Y’know…  Eleth.”

“Jack explained,” Gwen said, leaving her desk and coming to his side.  “But you shouldn’t feel bad.  You did your best, and…”

“I endangered us, I’ve ruined the lives of that couple in Swansea…”

“You helped someone who desperately needed help.”

“I allowed her to blindside us.”

“Ianto, what happened doesn’t make you a fool, and it doesn’t make her a monster.”

Ianto looked at Gwen as if she were mad.

“She allowed the Jukulka to use the Rift undetected.  She lied about…”

“No, she didn’t.”

“By omission.”

“So what?  However she got here, once she was safe with us she was genuine.”

“No, Gwen.”

“Yes.  If she was used by those creatures, and even if that allowed them to use us too, it doesn’t make her evil.  She was a victim.”

Ianto’s dogged certainty wavered.

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Ianto…  She thought the world of you.  That was no lie.”

“Don’t make this any harder.”

“I’m not, I’m…”

“Just leave it alone.”

Ianto rose and briskly walked away, trying to avoid any more of this conversation, but Gwen wasn’t about to be shaken off so easily and Ianto’s steps slowed as he listened.

“Ianto, who’s to say that she knew anything at all about being a decoy, or what she was a decoy for?  We don’t know that the Jukulka didn’t offer her an escape from her home world on the simple condition that she didn’t mention them.  You think she had any idea why the Jukulka were coming here?  She might have been brought here without her consent.  Or they could have pretended to sympathise with her and offered her a way off her world, and she took it, not questioning the motives behind it because she didn’t want to be another nameless statistic in her planet’s war.  I don’t find it impossible to believe that she would have trusted anyone who showed her genuine kindness, even if the genuine kindness was completely fake.”

Ianto finally turned back.

“Gwen.  This has been a painful, steep, but worthwhile learning curve.  If I can accept that…”

“Don’t tell me to condemn Eleth,” Gwen warned.  “If anyone ever deserved the benefit of the doubt, it’s her.”

“Okay.  We agree to disagree.  You carry on being completely gullible if that’s what you want, and I’ll…”

“Be the martyr?”

Having eavesdropped on the increasing heated argument, Jack now magically emerged from his hiding place and strolled between his glaring colleagues.  He looked from one to the other before focusing on Ianto, and gesturing him into the office with a tilt of the head.  When Ianto had grudgingly gone, Jack turned to Gwen.

“I’ll deal with this.  Don’t mention it again unless he does.”

“If you’d taken care of it I wouldn’t have to mention it at all.”

Jack lowered his voice.

“I thought he was right.”

“Even if he is right it can’t be proved.  Or disproved.  But this isn’t about being right, it’s about Ianto being able to live with himself.  Didn’t we feel bad enough before all this?”

“I know.”

“Get in there and help him,” Gwen insisted.  “Don’t screw it up,” she warned.

Gwen returned to her work and Jack followed Ianto into the office, pausing in the doorway to study Ianto’s agitated body language.

“I’m supposed to help you,” Jack said with more than a little bemusement.

“And not screw it up,” Ianto added, turning to face Jack and forcing himself to stop fidgeting.  “Yes, I heard.”

“I’m not sure how to do any of that.”

“Let it go, Jack, she’s being unreasonable.”

“You think?  I’m not so sure.”

Ianto frowned at him.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…  I’m with Gwen on this one.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen the CCTV footage so often that I know it by heart, and…”  Jack shrugged.  “However logical your conclusion is, from what I saw of Eleth, Gwen’s argument – any of them – makes better sense.”

Feeling almost breathless with disappointment at the lack of mindless support, Ianto shook his head and waved Jack away as he made a tentative approach.

“This doesn’t help,” Ianto eventually managed.  “Total screw-up.  Congratulations, Jack, two out of two.”

Jack didn’t attempt to stop Ianto as he pushed past, agreeing with the two out of two, but knowing – or perhaps only hoping – that after some time alone to think, Ianto would start to see sense and become a little kinder to the both of them.

Ianto, feeling undermined and bitter and at a complete loss, did the only thing he could think of under the circumstances.  He went down to the mortuary, and told Toshiko all about it.

…

It was after midnight when Ianto joined Jack in their quarters, sinking into the leather armchair and remaining in quiet thought.

“Where did you go?” Jack asked from where he was propped up on the bed, reading.

“Out,” Ianto replied dully.

“You missed dinner.  We were…”

“I forgot.”  A blatant lie and they both knew it.  “I’ll phone Rhys tomorrow and apologise.”

“Rhys was the one telling Gwen and me to give you some space.  But she was worried sick.  So was I.”  Nothing from Ianto, and Jack set his book aside and sat up.  “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want me to take your mind off it?”

“I doubt you can fuck away my guilty conscience.”

“I did once before.”

“No, I just let you believe you did.”

There was a long silence, long enough for Ianto to start wishing he hadn’t said that.  But when he finally looked at Jack, expecting to see disappointment or offence on his face, all he found was an obvious desire to make things right.

“You will get over this,” Jack promised.

“I shouldn’t be accusing you of screwing up when I beat you to it, and spectacularly at that.  I pride myself on getting things right, I work hard at it.  But this time, these circumstances, I screwed up, every step of the way.  I let us both down.”

“Is it that clear cut to you?”

“Yes.”

“Give me an example.”

“Oh, where to start!” Ianto snapped sarcastically, rising and throwing off his coat and suit jacket.  “How about leading the Jukulka to that couple in Swansea?  They were terrified, and I…”

“Followed a fairly obvious route of enquiry.  Any of us could have done it.”

“No.  The rest of you wouldn’t have been treating Eleth like some lost child…”

“Except that everyone did, not just you.”

“Then there was that business at my flat, with Hart, I let him trick me, I let him…”

“Stay alive to lead us to the Jukulka.  Think of the lives it will save now that we know how they operate.”

“What about Gray?”

“That was Hart.  You may have shot Gray but Hart’s the one who killed him.”

“Jack!” Ianto shouted as the anger burst out of him.  “Stop it, stop…”

“Being honest?” Jack countered with equal fervour.  “Why?  Because I don’t want to see you implode?”

“I’m not going to implode.”

“You think I don’t recognise survivor’s guilt when I see it?  When I’ve lived it more times than you can imagine.”

“It isn’t…” Ianto began to protest, “it isn’t…”  His tone lost its vehemence; the expression he turned on Jack was no longer sour but utterly lost.  “Is it?”

“Sometimes…you have to stop being strong, long enough to be honest.”  Jack slowly crossed to Ianto and carefully brought him close enough to hold.  “It hurts, doesn’t it, to know that you’re helpless.  You watch the people around you get hurt and die, you feel more and more useless until…”  Feeling Ianto begin to lean on him, Jack tightened his grip.  “There comes a time for acceptance, Ianto.  You accept, or you break into so many pieces that no-one will be able to put you back together.  I’ve seen it happen.  I’ve been on the brink.”

“You don’t…” Ianto asked quietly, the weight of what he was carrying so achingly audible in his voice.  “You don’t feel as if it’s a betrayal?  Of the people who relied on you?”

“It’s not a betrayal if you’ve done your very best.  Sometimes, the good guys lose, and it’s rarely about a lack of commitment.”

Ianto gradually eased himself out of Jack’s arms and, without a word, without making eye contact, sluggishly undressed and climbed into bed.  Jack was there seconds later, not allowing him a choice of whether or not he wanted to be smothered in affection.

“I’m so tired, Jack.”

“I know.  Go to sleep.  When you wake up in the morning – and I promise that you will – there’ll be plenty of time to think this over.  You’ll forgive yourself.  I’ll make sure of it.”

Ianto didn’t argue, he simply sprawled over Jack and made himself comfortable before rapidly giving in to exhaustion.  After an evening stressing about Ianto’s whereabouts, Jack felt pretty tired himself.  At least, he’d assumed it was the stress – who knew what was happening to their minds and bodies after such close contact with the Jukulka?  He had to get in touch with Catherine, even if it meant a trip to London to get a straight, face-to-face answer about the possibility of a cure.  If neither information nor antidote was forthcoming, he’d need to start dealing with the prospect of an immediate future without Ianto.  The pain that stirred in his chest was aggressively overcome by the thought of waking Ianto from cryo in a century’s time and sharing innovations with him that would fill him with astonishment and delight.  Or if he waited two-and-a-half centuries, Jack knew that there would have been such huge leaps forward in genetics that Ianto could be with him for twice the average, twenty-first century, non-Torchwood lifespan.  It was consolation, but not ideal.  He wanted Ianto here, now, and healthy.  So, first thing in the morning: Catherine.  Catherine or whichever genius Jack would demand she refer them to.

He could hear it in his head now: ‘You can’t rush these things’ in that deceptively soft voice, and Ianto guardedly backing her up because he’d rather wait for a positive than be faced with an immediate negative.  Okay, he wouldn’t rush these things but, whether it was down to this doctor, a doctor, or even The Doctor, Ianto would be cured.  Ianto would be cured.  Jack had had enough, and was not about to take no for an answer.