"Love is the emblem of eternity: it confounds all notion of time: effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end."
He knew he'd let things go on too long when Toshiko wandered into his office, arms wrapped around her waist and a scolding gleam in her eyes.
"How much longer are you going sit in here and sulk?" she asked bluntly.
Jack didn't need to guess what she was referring to—the atmosphere in the Hub had been decidedly grim since Gwen's return from Flat Holm.
"None of your business, Tosh," he snapped, eyes fixed on his computer monitor.
Instead of backing off, Tosh drew closer. "Sorry, but it is, you know. You've forgiven Gwen—why won't you do the same for—"
Jack held up his hand, stopping her. "Don't go there, okay? It's complicated and I don't want to get into it right now."
"Well, I don't think it's fair to either of you. He's practically hiding up there, only comes down for meals, and even then you two don't look at each other. Meanwhile, you're holed up in here stalking him through the CCTV. Needless to say, neither of you are getting much work done."
Jack had to smile that. Leave it to Toshiko to be practical about the whole thing, even when she was trying to arrange a reconciliation. He leaned back, throwing one arm over the back of his chair as he swivelled it toward Tosh.
"What do you suggest I do? Just forget about it?"
"Well, since I don't know what 'it' is, I'd say yes. I know it had something to do with Gwen's project, but beyond that, you've all been annoyingly closed-mouth about the whole thing. But this has gone on too long, Jack. We need to be a team again."
It wasn't the team that Jack was concerned about—they'd weathered stormier seas than this and remained together, becoming even stronger each time. This was so much more personal—this was betrayal by someone Jack needed to believe in, someone that Jack looked to for so much more than companionship and loyalty. He'd been betrayed before—by Ianto, by them all—and yet this felt as though he'd let slip something valuable, something worth fighting for, and he didn't know how to get it back without losing the edge that he needed to keep Torchwood functioning.
But beyond all that bitter anger, and the hurt that ate at his gut and warred with the coffee that was still brought so faithfully, he really, really missed Ianto.
"I know, I know." Jack sighed and scrubbed a hand across his jaw, stealing a glance at his monitor. "I took this one too personally and it clouded my judgement. Maybe if I—what the hell?"
Jack straightened in his chair and stared at the monitor, watching as Ianto drifted in an out of the frame as he spoke to a small boy that had wandered into the office. What he didn't expect to see was Ianto leave without notifying anyone below.
"What's going on?" Tosh edged closer to the desk and peered over Jack's shoulder. "Where'd he go?"
"Not sure." Jack flipped the CCTV feed to the waterfront in time to see Ianto walking hand in hand with the child, both of them apparently searching for something. Jack wasn't alarmed or even concerned, other than Ianto seemed to be out in the cold without his coat.
That gave him an idea. Tosh was right, it was time to clear the air between them. Getting to his feet, he reached toward the coat rack behind his desk.
"Hold down the fort, Tosh. This may take a while."
Ten minutes earlier
Ianto glanced at the tourist office clock for the sixth time in half an hour, disappointed that the day wasn't passing as quickly as he'd hoped. It took a lot of effort to hide out in the office when there was so little to do on this frigid March morning, but it was preferable to being down in the Hub, with Jack's accusing gaze following him wherever he went.
Two days after Gwen had gone out to Flat Holm, the little island's secrets were still Jack's to keep, only now it was a secret he shared with Gwen. Ianto knew when he'd left the GPS for Gwen that the repercussions of his choice would be far-reaching, and even though he didn't regret his decision to sidestep Jack's orders, he knew that he was going to be persona non grata for a while, at least where his Captain was concerned. Gwen had already been welcomed back to the Harkness fold, but Jack's disillusionment with Ianto was running deep and showed no signs of abating any time soon.
It wasn't a choice that Ianto had made lightly. Lying to Jack for any reason, no matter how noble, brought back such bitter memories that Ianto was forced to admit that he couldn't blame Jack for not trusting him in the future. But he also understood the harsh reality of bearing a burden that no one could share, and his decision to go behind Jack's back had been borne out of the hope that whatever it was that lived out on the island, by letting someone carry a portion of that weight, Jack's own burden would be lightened. Maybe it'd been a poor decision made worse due to the confused and exhilarating feelings for Jack that Ianto was constantly trying to fight, but it was a decision he'd make again.
He knew that Jack wouldn't hold a grudge, not over this, but they weren't that far along in the healing process, not by a long shot. Gwen was still deeply upset by whatever she'd discovered, and Ianto knew Jack blamed him for that as well. Toshiko and Owen had stayed well out of it, tiptoeing around the three of them and keeping to themselves as best they could. Jack was uncomfortably formal with Ianto, his stern gaze a combination of hurt and fury, so Ianto had found more things to do in the tourist office in the last two days than he'd accomplished there in a month.
But today there was no traffic, there were no lost tourists, no one asking for city maps or train schedules. He did as much Hub work as he could, updating inventories, logging in artefacts that he could carry upstairs, placing orders for office supplies. Business-like emails sent to Jack were replied to in kind, giving no hint if the playful, attentive lover of only a few nights past had any intention of turning back into someone even remotely approachable.
Ianto knew it would take time, but the waiting was hard. Beyond anything else, he missed Jack, his Jack, the Jack that the others didn't know. The silly Jack that liked to tease laughter out of Ianto at inopportune moments, the tender Jack that slept with his nose buried in the soft hair behind Ianto's ear—this was the Jack that he missed so keenly. The current Jack brooding downstairs, barking out orders and pouting into his coffee, was a little too reminiscent of the angry man that Ianto had once lied to without hesitation.
He was reviewing a list of prices for a new copy machine for the third time when the tourist door opened. He looked up, a professional and polite expression on his face, but instead of a confused American or an irritated local, he found himself looking down into the chapped, reddened face of a young boy, eight or nine at the most. He had black, ill-cut hair that hung to his shoulders, framing a face that was too lean for a child so young. Bright green eyes set off by olive skin looked back at him, small fingers sticking through overlong sleeves that were tattered and pocked with holes.
"Hallo," Ianto said gently. "Are you lost?"
The boy shook his head, eyes widening. Ianto noticed that the boy's jeans were also too big, pooling on the floor around the dirty edges of what were once white Nike trainers. He had a crocheted Rastafarian beanie sitting snugly on his head and his jacket was thick polyester, a West Ham United badge half ripped from the front. Yet for all the raggedness of his appearance, the boy looked clean and well-cared for, his fingernails trimmed and free of grime, the teeth revealed by his tentative, gap-toothed smile white and straight.
"Then, can I help you? Are you looking for something? Someone?"
The boy nodded and approached the desk with a hesitant step.
"I'm looking for my dog."
"Ah," Ianto nodded. "Sorry, no missing dogs in here. When did you lose him?"
The boy's eyes darted around the shop before coming back to Ianto. "It's a girl dog. Her name is Molly and she ran away."
"When did she run away?" Ianto asked patiently.
The boy's lower lip began to quiver. "This morning. She sleeps in the back and when I woke up, she was gone."
"If she got out of your garden, maybe she's already returned, looking for her breakfast. When did you last look for her there?"
"Don't have a garden," the boy muttered, obviously unimpressed with Ianto's reasoning. "Meant the back of Merry's car. Merry and I sleep in the front."
"I see." Ianto scrubbed a hand over his chin, then moved out from behind the counter. Bending down on one knee, he gave the child a reassuring smile. "What's your name?"
"Declan."
"Hallo, Declan, I'm Ianto. What kind of dog is Molly?"
"She's brown with a white patch on her arse."
Ianto bit his lip. "Is she a big dog?"
Declan held out his hand until it was a foot above the floor. "She's this big."
"All right. Is she wearing a collar?"
Declan nodded. "Merry made it out of some rope we found." Green eyes began to swim with tears. "I haven't had her very long. She said I could keep her but only if I took care of her. Now she's run away and Merry's gonna be mad."
"Merry won't be mad, she'll just be worried. Is Merry a friend of yours?"
Declan sniffed loudly, then wiped his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. "She's me sister. She takes care of me and Molly."
Ianto reached behind the counter and snagged the box of tissues from the lower shelf. "Here. Clean your nose, then let's see if we can find Merry."
Declan took the proffered tissue and gave a healthy blow before stuffing the wad in his pocket. "Don't want to find my sister. Want to find my dog."
Ianto rose to his feet, his eyes going fleetingly to the closed circuit camera hidden in a corner of the office. He knew that Jack checked on the tourist office as part of his regular routine, but given Jack's current mood, Ianto assumed that the feed from the tourist desk to Jack's monitor was either being ignored or had been turned off altogether.
Ianto turned back to Declan, who was looking up at him with the light of expectation shining in his eyes. Mentally throwing up his hands, Ianto stepped behind the beaded curtain and reached for his wool coat, only to remember that it was currently downstairs, neatly hung on the brass rack beside Jack's blue serge greatcoat. He didn't fancy going into the Hub for any reason, let alone for what would be perceived by the rest of the team—except Gwen, perhaps—as a waste of time. And until Jack's eyes lost their frigid cast whenever he looked Ianto's way, Ianto was pleased to stay busy elsewhere and a lost dog seemed liked a safe diversion.
Steeling himself for what was sure to be an uncomfortably chilly few minutes, Ianto gave Declan a reassuring smile. "Let's see what we can do about finding Molly, shall we? But if you see your sister, you let me know straight away. Deal?"
Declan nodded vigorously as they stepped outside, slipping his cold hand into Ianto's after the tourist office door was locked. It startled Ianto for a moment, to have such trust placed in him so quickly and so thoroughly, but the feeling was a pleasant one. He rarely got to interact with children—or dogs, for that matter, a misplaced dinosaur was hardly an acceptable substitute—and the finding of a boy's pet seemed like a reachable goal in a job that seemed to have very few.
The wind had an icy edge to it, making Ianto wonder if his spare gloves were still in the SUV. They'd be too big for Declan but the cashmere-lined leather would protect his small hands. Together they walked along the empty boardwalk, peeking into doorways and calling out Molly's name. From there they took the steps up to the mostly deserted Plass. Lowering clouds threatened rain and Ianto began to wonder if Molly wasn't smarter than he was and had already found a warm hiding place, content to wait until conditions improved.
A sudden fierce tugging of his hand brought his attention back to Declan, who was straining to pull Ianto toward a rubbish-filled alley.
"I saw her! She's in there!"
Together they entered the alley, Ianto stepping ahead of Declan and tightening his grip on the hand in his. He knew this alley, much like he knew all the buildings, streets, and byways of the neighbourhood surrounding the Hub, and this particular back street ended at a brick wall that was a favourite haven of drug users at night. If it had been dark, Ianto would never have allowed Declan near the alley, but if they could retrieve the errant Molly quickly, he assumed it would be safe enough.
"Molly! C'mere, Molly!" Declan yanked his hand from Ianto's and fell to his knees as a brown blur of fur rocketed out from behind a pile of empty crates to leap into his arms. It was obviously an ecstatic reunion, evidenced by wriggling boy and equally writhing dog, all flying hands and giggles and happy yips. Ianto watched indulgently, dividing his attention between the happy scene before him and the shadows of the alley, alert to anything of a threatening nature.
When the reunion showed signs of settling into a quieter level of mutual adoration, Ianto placed his hand on Declan's shoulder.
"Let's go see if we can find your sister now. She must be worried."
Declan bent his head for one more swipe of Molly's tongue before getting to his feet. Brushing at the legs of his now paw-printed jeans as Molly danced around his feet, he shook his head with a matter-of-fact air.
"She won't be. She knew I was with you, she said you'd help me find my dog."
A trickle of unease slid down Ianto's spine. "She told you to find me specifically?"
Reaching for the short stub of braided rope that extended from Molly's makeshift collar, Declan nodded. "Yeah."
One hand still on Declan's shoulder, Ianto anxiously searched the immediate area. He'd been easily—perhaps foolishly—led away from one of Torchwood's most vulnerable entrances for the sake of a dog who was now sniffing his once perfectly shined dress shoes with avid curiosity. He started to reach toward his ear piece with the vague idea of checking in, but thought better of it. He had no solid proof that anything was amiss and the idea of listening to Jack's clipped, dismissive tones after admitting he only had a "bad feeling" stayed his hand.
"Let's get back inside and see if your sister shows up," he urged instead. "It'll be warmer and I may be able to conjure up some hot chocolate."
Ianto glanced at Declan, reassured when all he saw was the glowing face of a boy who'd found his missing dog and had just been offered what was probably a rare treat. Keeping contact with Declan as they began to walk back toward the tourist office, he searched the faces of everyone they passed, looking for anyone familiar to explain Declan's odd statement.
They'd just descended the steps to the boardwalk when a thin, hooded figure stepped out of the shadows. Molly, who'd been pacing them at a happy trot, let out an excited bark of recognition even as Ianto was reaching to pull Declan out of the way.
"Merry, look! Ianto found Molly, just like you said!"
Ianto heard Declan's proud declaration but it hardly mattered—he was too busy staring at the face of a woman he never thought he'd see again.
"Meredith?"
The woman moved further into the light, her bloodshot eyes on Ianto's face even as she reached to take Declan's outstretched hand in her own.
"Hello, Ianto."
Ianto didn't know what to say or where to turn, words and feelings stuck in a great, thick ball in his chest. This woman shouldn't be in Wales, let alone remember his name. How much she actually did remember was the question he was afraid to ask, the ramifications of any answer making his heart race and his throat go dry.
"What are you doing here?" he stuttered.
She pushed off the hood of her sweatshirt, revealing greasy, lank hair framing a waxy complexion marked with angry red sores.
"I need—I want to see Lisa. Is she okay? She's here, right?"
The timid words sank inside Ianto and twisted his stomach into knots. He licked wind-chapped lips, wondering how much more Meredith would remember if he told her the truth, painfully aware that too much information could trigger memories that would damage them both.
A blast of wind cut through the fabric of Ianto's suit coat and he shivered. Meredith was staring at him, mutely waiting for the answer to her question and seemingly oblivious to the plunging temperatures. Instead of replying, Ianto slipped out of his suit coat and draped it around Meredith's thin shoulders, watching as she absently clutched the lapels to her chest. She seemed unaware of the cold or much of anything else, her dull gaze centred on Ianto's face.
"Let's get inside," Ianto suggested. "I'll tell you—"
He stopped abruptly when the weight of his own wool overcoat settled around him, carrying with it a welcome bubble of warmth.
"Ianto," Jack said, "aren't you going to introduce me to your friends?"
"So, you knew her at Canary Wharf."
"Yes."
Jack started to say something more, but the haunted look in Ianto's eyes made him hesitate. It was a subject they'd never discussed at length, even though Jack had thoroughly researched Ianto Jones and his first Torchwood career. Initially it had been as a security measure, SOP for anyone from Torchwood One, and especially someone who seemed so determined to join Torchwood Three. But after he'd returned from the Valiant, Jack's professional curiosity had given way to a much more personal investment, as he found that Ianto was coming to mean far more to him than was safe or practical. In the end he hadn't learned much, and that mostly from Ianto himself in rare moments of transparency. It didn't slake Jack's curiosity, but as a man with more than a few secrets of his own, Jack contented himself with learning everything he could about Ianto as he was now, a product of a past that Jack would probably never discover and yet no less important to Jack for that lack of telling history.
After shepherding Ianto and his companions back into the warmth of the tourist office, Jack had taken one look at the young woman's slack expression and had used the office phone to call Owen, warning him to take the lift to the Plass instead of coming through the hidden door. His next request was to Gwen, asking her to accompany Owen, and when they'd both shown up, he'd asked the woman if she minded if Gwen took the boy out for some lunch. The woman had stared at Ianto, waiting for his encouraging nod before telling Declan it was okay to go. Gwen had responded in perfect maternal pitch, promising they'd bring back enough for his sister and making a fuss over Molly, leading them both back outdoors in search of a hamburger.
Owen had brought his medical bag and had taken Meredith into the back office to examine her, leaving Jack and Ianto alone at the tourist counter. Jack was leaning against the wall, hands thrust in his trouser pockets, watching as a pale Ianto tried not to eavesdrop on the low conversation taking place in the other room.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked the question respectfully, undemandingly, his carefully nursed righteous irritation over Flat Holm dissolving into concern as Ianto stared at a spot on the floor, hands clenched into fists. "Ianto?"
Ianto glanced at him, a shadow of a smile touching his lips. "I'm not sure it's a story you'll want to hear."
Jack shrugged. "I'll listen anyway. Tell me that she and the boy aren't a threat and I'll listen all day long."
"No," Ianto murmured, eyes returning to study the floor, "no threat. It's just—I never thought I'd see her again."
"Old girlfriend?"
Ianto's head jerked up, his body going rigid before relaxing under Jack's sympathetic gaze. "No." He scraped a hand through his hair, closing his eyes for a moment, and Jack fought the urge to go to him. He wasn't sure if his touch would be welcome right now, and not because of their recent misunderstanding—Ianto was not a petty man, but he was an intensely private one, and Jack knew better than anyone that sometimes the hardest thing to accept was sympathy offered blindly.
"She was a co-worker," Ianto sighed. "She worked in the pharmaceutical development department, as a researcher."
"Ah, the good drugs girl."
"Something like that. She was a friend of Lisa's, I hardly knew her except to say hello in the hallway. We really had nothing in common."
"Except that you both survived."
Ianto nodded wordlessly and Jack again suppressed the desire to offer some kind of physical comfort. Despite his often flippant attitude and sometimes callous disregard for the feelings of others, with Ianto, it had been different, almost from the start. There was something in Ianto that resonated in Jack, and as much as Jack disdained this era's notions of love, true or otherwise, he had to admit that there was a growing depth to their relationship that he was finding hard to define. It was a connection that revealed itself in a hundred different ways every day, physically and emotionally, a low purr of awareness that skimmed over his skin when Ianto was near. It was that subliminal whisper that told him to keep his distance, at least for now, and pay attention.
"She wasn't caught up in the battle that day, she was out with a cold. After—after I'd found a place for Lisa to hide, I knew that I couldn't move on without finding a way to sedate her. The labs had been damaged—"
"And you assumed that—Meredith, right?—Meredith could help you out."
"That was my intention, yes." Ianto's cheeks flushed and he looked away. "I begged her to go back with me, to the storerooms. After we got what we needed, I promised her I'd take her to her friends in Islington." He paused before continuing, almost inaudibly. "I didn't know she had nowhere else to go."
"Seems like a pretty simple story." Jack crossed his arms over his chest, head tilted to one side as he contemplated Ianto's profile. "Okay, what aren't you telling me?"
Ianto squared his shoulders, uncomfortably reminding Jack of a soldier about to receive a reprimand. Eyes on the wall beside Jack's head, Ianto continued, "We managed to get back into the facility before they'd instituted the quarantine, since there was a lot of confusion due to the command hierarchy having been destroyed. Everything Meredith had missed by being out that day—she saw it all. The blood, the bodies of friends who'd been blown apart or ripped to shreds—she saw what no one should ever have to witness."
Jack lowered his head, eyes drifting shut on the memories of the reports he'd received on the carnage inside Canary Wharf. Days later, after hearing the strained voices of Owen and Suzie as they'd filled him in on the disaster, he'd grieved over the senseless loss of life, but until he'd hired Ianto, he'd never met an actual victim of the attack.
"And it was my fault."
Jack's head snapped up at that, eyes narrowing. This was a battle he'd fought before, the struggle to bring Ianto's guilt down to manageable proportions. In lighter moments, Ianto often claimed that he wanted to save the world simply so he could clothe it properly, but Jack knew that Ianto's heart ached for the victims they couldn't save and mourned the lives they couldn't fix. It went a long way toward explaining Ianto's involvement in Gwen's disastrous foray into the secrets of Flat Holm and even though Jack was still upset at how that had played out, he realised he couldn't damn Ianto for being true to himself.
But Ianto was destined to surprise him once more. Instead of blue eyes flush with tears of guilt, the young man looking back at Jack was standing calmly, his expression one of acceptance instead of blame. There was even a gently mocking smile for Jack's sake, as if Ianto knew that Jack was expecting Ianto to fling himself on a sword of self-loathing. In response to that tentative but clear communication, Jack felt his shoulders relax, bringing him back to the matter at hand.
"What's wrong with her?"
Ianto's brow furrowed. "I don't know. She wasn't like this when I knew her. I'm afraid it may be an aftereffect."
"Of what? PTSD?"
"No. At least, I don't think so." He hesitated, taking a deep breath. "Torchwood Three isn't the only facility in possession of an amnesia drug, but then I assume you know that. Lisa always suspected that Meredith was dealing but she never thought she was a user. After what she saw that day, maybe she found it the better part of two evils."
"That's only part of it." Owen let the beaded curtain drop, stripping off his latex gloves as he joined Jack and Ianto. "Like any drug, its effect has weakened over time. Torchwood One's version of retcon has an opiate that ours doesn't, thank God. Her recall has become porous, all kinds of memories seeping through, but they're distorted."
"And the other part?" Ianto murmured.
"She's dying." Owen's blunt tone belied the weary compassion in his eyes. "I doubt she has more than a month or two, and that's if she's given proper nutrition and shelter."
Jack shared a glance with Ianto. "What's wrong with her?"
Owen shrugged. "Cancer, she says, although she can't recall exactly what kind. She also can't remember receiving any treatment—according to her, she's been living on the road with her brother for weeks."
"Ianto? Are you there?"
The soft voice caught their attention and Ianto sent a silent question to Jack, who answered with a quick nod. As soon as he disappeared into the back office, Jack turned to Owen.
"How can we help?"
Before answering, Owen stepped around Jack so that his voice wouldn't carry into the other room. "We can't. I'm amazed she's still standing at this point."
"Then we find her a hospital room and make her last days as comfortable as possible."
Owen raised an eyebrow. "And the boy? What do we do about him?"
"Turn him over to the authorities, I guess."
That wasn't a good alternative and they both knew it, but Jack didn't know what other choice they had. He was reaching for his ear piece to contact Tosh for the arrangements when Ianto emerged from the back room, ushering a wan Meredith in front of him.
"That won't be necessary," Ianto told them. "Meredith has a plan."
In fact, Meredith's original plan hadn't included Ianto at all. She and Declan had become stranded in Cardiff on their way to Bristol, where an aunt had promised to take them in. As Ianto gathered their meagre belongings out of the car they'd been living in after it died on the M4, he felt the weight of their unhappy circumstances settle on his shoulders. The items he found represented a lifetime of struggle that was not without its treasures—a rubber toy for Molly, a set of C.S. Lewis paperbacks wrapped in a plastic grocery bag, a tube of cheap coral lipstick worn down to a nub. Meredith's life—and Declan's—should have been more than these odd pieces of human detritus, but she was a victim of Torchwood as surely as Lisa and all the others who were lost on that terrible day.
As he backed out of the front passenger seat, Ianto heard the boot slam shut. Jack came around the back of the car, his hands clutching black nylon sacks that held the possessions he'd found. The car park was nearly abandoned on this bitterly cold afternoon, despite the traffic flying past them on the M4. Rain that had held off all day was beginning to fall, small droplets lighting on Jack's hair and eyelashes, making him glisten in the light of the street lamps.
"Tosh said the towing service will be here in half an hour." Jack rolled the straps into one hand and reached out with the other to straighten a kink Ianto's coat collar. His fingers brushed the skin of Ianto's neck, a deliberate caress hidden beneath a social nicety that startled Ianto even as it made him shiver with something other than cold. "They'll take it straight to the demolition yard. Did you get everything?"
Ianto glanced into the car's interior. "I think so. Everything worth saving, anyway. What did you find in the back?"
"Clothes for Declan, some medical records, a couple of tins of dog food, other odds and ends."
Ianto nodded absently, his gaze drawn to the ancient Fiat's scarred and pitted exterior. Once a jaunty green, the car's body was now a patchwork of different colours, predominantly grey where spare parts had been glued on. The tyres were bald, the upholstery torn and stained, every tired feature giving evidence of a long history of living rough.
"They did nothing for them," he said abruptly, looking up into Jack's eyes. "The survivors. I checked—the government didn't lift a finger to help any of them. It was as though they'd never existed."
"Maybe it's not too late." Jack placed his hand on Ianto's shoulder, guiding him away from the car and toward the SUV parked beside it. After loading the bags in the back seat, he stopped Ianto with another light touch. "It's something we can look into, if you'd like."
Ianto stared at Jack, who looked back with eyes alight with rueful understanding. This wasn't just an idle suggestion, this was an unexpected peace offering and the exact opposite of what Ianto had expected from Jack after the disaster of Flat Holm. The leader of Torchwood was sometimes pathologically practical and stubbornly single-minded when it came to saving the world, no matter the individual cost.
"All right, yes," Ianto said, voice roughening with emotion. "After I return from Bristol, I'll start making inquiries and see what I can find."
Jack laughed softly, a sound Ianto had missed. He'd also missed what followed, a tug on his wrist that pulled him into Jack's arms for a swift kiss that was part apology, part forgiveness, and all Harkness in its instant, erotic intensity.
"What was that for?" Ianto stammered as he was released, glancing around to see if they'd been noticed. He'd lost many inhibitions since he'd started sleeping with Jack, but public displays of affection were still a bit uncomfortable.
"Because you're Ianto," Jack said as if that explained everything. "And recent history to the contrary, I wouldn't have you any other way." He paused as he opened the driver's side door. "Speaking of having you," he leered with a wink.
Ianto's eyebrows lowered in stern rebuke, though inside he was thrilled that Jack was back to flirting with him so blatantly. "Here? In a deserted car park? I hardly think so. At least," he amended thoughtfully, "not during daylight hours."
"I'll hold you to that," Jack grinned. "And a couple of other things, too."
"And Lisa's dead, right?"
"Yes."
Jack watched from the doorway as Ianto smoothed the blanket over Meredith's lap before tucking it more snugly to her shoulder. Inside the shabby but neat lounge of her elderly aunt, Meredith seemed to be reviving a bit, taking in more of her surroundings and responding lucidly to Ianto's gentle inquiries. Behind him, Jack could hear the aunt puttering in the kitchen, making tea and buttering bread for her guests. Declan and Molly were playing in the front yard, taking advantage of the brief break in the weather to burn off some energy.
This wasn't what Jack had signed on for, so many years ago. Feelings were a luxury that he couldn't afford—or at least that's what he used to believe. He was a man with a job to do and emotions only got in the way, but as Ianto's quiet words comforted the young woman, Jack admitted—not for the first time—that he was nothing but a great fraud.
In spite of the heartache that lurked behind every sunrise, Jack had fallen too far to go back. He was caught up in something terrifying enough to make him want to run again but given the choice, he'd never leave, a willing captive to whatever it was that he was building with Ianto. If nothing else, the events surrounding Gwen's discoveries at Flat Holm had brought into focus the tenuous understanding Jack had about those feelings that he'd tried so hard to shove into an ill-fitting box.
But it was a conversation in the SUV after they'd cleaned out Meredith's car that had painted a few more shades into Jack's already colourful world. Ianto had been quiet, his troubled gaze turned away from Jack as they'd driven back to the Hub, and Jack had decided to break the silence and distract Ianto from his melancholy thoughts.
"How did she know where to find you?"
Ianto glanced over at him, then turned back to look out the window. "I told her."
"Told her where you were going?"
"Told her everything."
"I don't get it."
Ianto sighed and leaned forward in his seat, hands clasped tightly together between his knees. "There was a lot going on in the early days after the attack. Meredith stayed with Lisa, keeping her sedated whilst I worked on getting us out of London. There was so much to do," he added almost apologetically, "and I needed someone to talk to."
Jack was surprised, given the desperate secrecy Ianto had needed to maintain concerning Lisa's very existence. "That was a risk."
Ianto shrugged. "I didn't think so at the time. She already knew about Lisa and even if she hadn't planned on using the amnesia drug, it didn't really matter. The odds of Lisa surviving long enough for me to save her were astronomical, so I assumed that even if Meredith revealed our location to the authorities, there wouldn't be anything for them to find." He cleared his throat and glanced at Jack. "After all this time, I didn't expect to be right."
Eyes on the roadway, Jack reached over and casually took Ianto's hand in his, lightly chafing cold knuckles with his thumb. He'd often wondered how Ianto had engineered the massive undertaking of trying to rehabilitate his half-converted girlfriend, but it had never occurred to him that there may have been allies along the way.
"Why do you think she didn't just knock on our door for help?"
Ianto had tucked his palm more firmly into Jack's grasp. "She was Torchwood trained, Jack, she knew better. Finding us isn't all that difficult, apparently. A few day's recon and even in her state, she knew my routine well enough to lure me away fairly easily. It was only by chance that her car had broken down in Cardiff and enough of her memory had survived to remember that I'd brought Lisa here. If she hadn't been concerned for Declan—"
"She might never have contacted you at all."
Ianto turned away, though he kept his hand in Jack's. "She was a friend when I had none. I'm glad I've been given the opportunity to return the favour."
Friendship. To Jack, it was an overused word with too many definitions but for a brief moment, he envied Meredith for being counting amongst Ianto's friends. He was Ianto's lover, yes, and his boss, two important places in Ianto's life that Jack not only understood, but treasured as well. But he realised with a stab of regret that if Ianto were to make a list of current friends, Jack wasn't sure he'd be on it.
That's why he'd surprised everyone, including himself, by announcing that he was going to accompany Ianto when he drove Meredith, Declan, and Molly to Bristol. Ianto had protested instantly and Jack had noticed the surprised glance shared by Gwen and Toshiko, but he'd been adamant. It was going to be a difficult afternoon and a long ride back, and Jack knew that the presence of a friend could make everything a bit easier.
Now he watched as Meredith's eyes drifted closed, her fingers going lax against the worn cotton of her blanket. Ianto rose to his feet, gazing down at her for a moment before turning to Jack with a wistful expression that knotted Jack's stomach. Unable to stop himself, he opened his arms and when Ianto walked into them without hesitation, seeking only comfort and nothing else, Jack felt something click into place inside him, the last remnant of the rusty lock on his emotions falling away beneath the bright brass key of Ianto's generous acceptance.
The embrace lasted only long enough for Jack to drop a kiss on the side of Ianto's head before they separated. They shared a smile as Meredith's aunt toddled past them with the tea tray, Declan and Molly making a reappearance as the rain began to fall again. As Molly made herself comfortable on the couch, nestled in the folds of Meredith's blanket, Ianto explained to her aunt that Owen had made arrangements with the local hospice facility, who was sending a representative in the morning. Owen had also supplied enough painkillers to keep Meredith comfortable, a detail not lost on Declan.
"She looks better," he informed Jack solemnly as Ianto and the aunt conversed at the other end of the room.
"She does," Jack assured him. "You took good care of her." He wasn't used to talking to children, but Declan seemed older than his years, no doubt a product of the tough circumstances he'd been forced to deal with. Ianto had told Jack that he'd learned from Meredith how their parents had died just as Meredith's illness had metastasised, leaving her to find a home for her only sibling as quickly as possible. The aunt in Bristol was their one remaining relative, but a lack of mobile phones and a run of bad luck had made communication difficult at best.
Now Meredith could rest easy, knowing that Declan had a home, at least for the moment. What she couldn't know was that Torchwood had been busy making arrangements as well, enrolling Declan in school, forging the proper papers to make sure that he stayed with his aunt, and padding the aunt's government stipend so that she and Declan would live comfortably. Meredith's future medical bills were taken care of as well, a gift that Jack had ordered as much for Ianto's peace of mind as anything else.
It was all as tidy and painless as he could make it, yet Jack knew that there was heartache ahead for all of them. Even after they'd said their goodbyes and were on their way back to Cardiff, Jack was trying to think of ways he could help out the makeshift family, tapping a heretofore unknown well of altruistic creativity. Usually a man of necessity, he was finding it rewarding to look beyond alien damage control to alleviating the human cost of defending against the unthinkable. The fact that it'd gone a long way toward easing the strain in Ianto's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed, either.
"Thank you."
Ianto's soft words broke through Jack's preoccupation and he glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, simultaneously braking for the traffic they'd become entangled in on the rain-washed M4.
"What for?"
"You didn't have to come today. I know it's against policy to involve Torchwood in the lives of the innocent."
It was uncomfortably close to the very thoughts Jack had been entertaining. Up until today, he hadn't cared what the world thought of him or the decisions he'd made, he'd only cared about results. But in the wake of Meredith's arrival and the aid that they'd been able to offer, Jack was beginning to understand that compassion needn't stop just because basic needs had been met.
"I know I didn't," Jack whispered. "But I'm very glad that I did."
For once, Jack was sleeping soundly as Ianto slipped out of bed. It was still several hours before dawn and his flat was too cool for comfort, but he hardly noticed. Pausing only long enough to throw on a pair of sweatpants and Jack's discarded white t-shirt, he walked barefoot into his tiny kitchen, intent on preparing a cup of tea in an attempt to relax enough to return to the warm cocoon of Jack's arms.
He rolled his shoulders as he waited for the kettle to boil, relishing the pleasant aches that pulled at his muscles. Jack's lovemaking had been surprisingly intense, his usual playfulness cast aside in favour of such tenderness that Ianto had instinctively understood there was more going on than a typical session of satisfying, amusing sex.
As he poured steaming water into his mug, Ianto wondered if it was because of Flat Holm that Jack had been different tonight. They hadn't touched in any meaningful way since the night Gwen had caught them in the greenhouse, but it wasn't sexual frustration that had infused Jack's every kiss and caress. There'd been something reverent in the way he'd licked a path from the nape of Ianto's neck to the base of his spine, something akin to worship in his touch as he'd readied Ianto with deep, careful strokes. There was no laughter on this night, no teasing feints and stifled giggles, only sighs and moans that were absorbed into flushed skin and hot, seeking mouths.
Moving into the dark lounge with his tea, Ianto wandered over to the window, leaning against the frame as he looked out onto the wet streets below his flat. This day had brought back so many painful memories that not even Jack's best efforts could fully distract Ianto enough to stop his mind from racing back to a darker time. He'd reconciled his love for Lisa and the things he'd done to save her, but he would always regret the people he'd hurt along the way, Meredith included. But on this night, it was Jack who occupied his thoughts, whose very presence in his bed was a small miracle all its own.
Jack had surprised him today, more than once. They'd started out the morning barely on speaking terms, a world of hurt and misunderstanding between them, both men too stubborn to make a move toward reconciliation. That the long, heartbreaking day had ended with Jack eager to make love with him was merely another sign that Jack had changed somehow, proof Ianto hardly needed after he'd overheard a conversation Jack had with Gwen before they'd left for Bristol.
A rush of cool air against his neck announced Jack's arrival before strong arms slid around Ianto's midsection.
"Either I'm losing my touch," Jack murmured against his ear, "or I've forgotten what it's like to have the stamina of a twenty-five-year-old."
"Neither, trust me." Ianto set his mug aside and turned his cheek into the warm curve of Jack's bare shoulder. "It's just—it was a long day."
"It was. Are you okay?"
Ianto was startled at the very un-Harkness-like question. "Who are you and what have you done with Jack Harkness? Not that I want the real one back, mind, not after the talent you demonstrated earlier this evening. I merely need to know so I can file the proper paperwork."
"Funny, but you're avoiding the question."
"No, I'm avoiding giving you an answer." Ianto settled deeper into Jack's embrace, smiling when broad palms stroked his ribcage. "Not to change the subject, but I heard what you said to Gwen. About Flat Holm."
He heard a soft, surprised exhalation. "Anyone ever tell you it's rude to listen in on other people's conversations?"
"I'm sure they have, but it hasn't stopped me yet. You either, now that I think about it."
"I don't know that any good will come of it. Neither does Gwen."
"Doesn't matter. In my opinion, something already has."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"You're actually allowing someone to help you by giving Gwen another chance to make a difference."
"Hmm." Jack pressed a kiss to Ianto's shoulder as his arms dropped away. "That's one way to look at it, I guess." He slid his hand beneath the hem of the t-shirt Ianto was wearing and gave it a tug. "Have I ever mentioned that you wearing my clothes is sexy as hell?"
Ianto felt the lazy stir of arousal and reached for Jack's hand to lead him back to the bedroom. "More often than you've mentioned the eavesdropping issue, but it never hurts to have a reminder. And now who's changing the subject?"
"Yeah, but notice how I'm so much better at it than you are." Jack asked as he pulled the t-shirt over Ianto's head. "Think you can sleep now?"
Ianto fell backward on the bed, pulling a startled and laughing down Jack on top of him. "I think I can sleep—eventually."
Later, as he drifted toward sleep with Jack's nose snuggled behind the curve of his ear, Ianto finally figured out what it was about Jack that had changed. Of all the roles that Jack played in his life, today he'd added one more, one that was as unexpected as it was breathtaking in its own odd yet wonderful way.
Jack had become his friend.
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