TW Fic: Recovery

[out_there]

Title: Recovery
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys
Rating: R
Spoilers: Exit Wounds
Disclaimer: Not RTD.
Notes: Set directly after 2.13 ("Exit Wounds"). Thanks to researchgrrrl and ekaterinn for beta-reading. Lame title entirely my own lack of imagination.

Summary: This is how they mourn.



After Tosh's message plays, it closes itself and disappears from the screen. For a while, Jack stands there, one arm around Gwen, one hand on Ianto's shoulder, holding onto what he still has.

Then Ianto steps forward and turns the computer off. "Anyone want a coffee?" he asks.

Jack nods and Gwen says, "Thanks." Jack suspects they're all acting from habit, but Ianto walks off to the coffee machine nonetheless.

Jack takes Gwen's cold hand in his and leads her to the couch. Sitting down, he wraps an arm around her shoulders, holding her close and watching her pinched expression, her tear-streaked cheeks. She looks crushed, like the losses have squeezed the last tear out of her. It's not true; Jack will be amazed if this is the last time they cry over this.

It feels like it takes Ianto a long time to return with tray of mugs. Jack moves over on the couch, shifting closer to Gwen, making space for Ianto.

Ianto shakes his head. He stands with his back against the column, leaning against it. After the second swallow he says, "I called Rhys. He'll be here as soon as he can."

"Thanks," Gwen says. Her voice is strained and rough. Jack almost wishes she wouldn't talk.

He tightens his fingers around her shoulder. He wishes Ianto would come within arms' reach.

"Is there anything you need?" Ianto asks solicitously.

It takes Jack a moment to realise Ianto's asking him, not Gwen. "No. There's… no."

"In that case," Ianto says, putting down his mug. It sloshes; it's still mostly full. "I'm going to go have a shower. Wash the eau de Weevil off me."

He pauses, almost like he's waiting for permission, then walks away.

Gwen presses one pale cheek against Jack's shoulder, and he turns, reaching out for her with both arms. "Not the most opportune time to worry about personal hygiene," Jack says, needing to think about something that won't tear their hearts open again.

"He's off to have a good cry." Gwen's voice catches on the last word: not quite a sob, not quite a laugh. She takes a deep breath.

"You think so?"

"Course. I mean, after Lisa..." She raises her head and blinks through damp lashes. She must notice Jack's surprise. "He said that it was the only way he could stop himself from becoming a mess. Gave himself a rule that he should only cry in the shower."

For a moment, Jack wishes this conversation wasn't happening. He still feels raw, chest aching and exposed. The thought of Ianto grieving quietly, alone, does nothing but hurt. Even if it makes a certain amount of sense, given Ianto. "He never mentioned it."

"Well, I don't suppose he would. You don't really tell your boyfriend how much you cried over your last break-up," Gwen says, sounding better. Still shocked, still sad, but not as overwhelmed. There's a hint of her usual cheekiness. "Besides, hard to talk when someone has their tongue down your throat. And from the way he tells it, that's what happens the moment you two are alone."

"Hey, that's not all he puts in his--"

Gwen pokes his sternum. "Do not finish that sentence, Jack Harkness!"

"I'm not the one who's been spreading tales."

Gwen's eyes widen for a moment, as if she's trying to be convincing. "Ianto hasn't been spreading tales."

"Uh-huh?"

She nods earnestly, suddenly looking so young. "It's just been girl-talk."

"From personal experience, Ianto's missing some of the biological features necessary for that to be girl-talk."

Gwen rolls her eyes. "Boyfriend-talk, then."

Jack pouts. "Then how come we don't have boyfriend-talks?"

"Oh, please. What are you going to complain about? That Ianto's spoiling you rotten with too much good coffee?"

"His coffee has spoiled me for anyone else's. And you have no idea how hard it is to work when he wears that blue suit." Jack grins fondly, thinking about the ways that suit clings when Ianto bends over. Then he thinks of something else. "Wait. You talk with Ianto because he complains about me? What about?"

Gwen stares at him. "You want the list?"

"I'm not a bad boyfriend! I'm--"

"You're very dashing, very handsome and your smile could light up a small village." It all sounds very encouraging, but he knows Gwen. He's waiting for the catch. "But you ran off after one ex and invited the next one back to the Hub. You flirt with anything that moves and you throw yourself into danger as if watching you gasp back to life is fun for the rest of us. You're pushy about sex in the most inappropriate places and--"

Gwen looks up. Sees Rhys.

She gives a little smile. "Hi."

"Am I interrupting?" Rhys asks, looking warily amused as he walks over.

"No. I was just telling Jack what the rest of us... well, Ianto and I, not Owen and Tosh because--"

Jack sees the moment it hits her, the moment she remembers. Her face falls into a simple, childlike sorrow. Rhys sees it too because he's across the Hub within seconds and holding onto Gwen, arms around her shoulder, holding her tight against his chest while she starts crying.

"I know," Rhys rumbles softly. "Ianto told me what you found."

"Oh," Gwen says, "it's just so..."

"I know, love." Rhys smooths down her hair with one hand. "How 'bout I take you home, eh?"

Gwen nods. He looks over Gwen's shoulder, catching Jack's eye and raising his chin. "You want a lift? Since I'm here and all."

"No," Jack says. "I have quarters here."

"You're staying here tonight?" Rhys raises an eyebrow, looking as if he thinks Jack's mildly insane. "To me, that's downright morbid."

Gwen snorts against Rhys' chest, her shoulders briefly hitching in amusement.

"Or cheap," Rhys adds. "I don't know which."

"It's practical," Gwen says, "in case something goes wrong here."

"Not after all this." There are times when Jack can see what attracted Gwen to Rhys. There's a solid dependability there, a firmness; enough strength to stand up to him and Gwen combined, if necessary. "Come back to our place. The settee folds out. Stay for a couple nights."

"It's a nice offer, Rhys," Jack starts with his most charming smile, but Rhys talks through him.

"It's not an offer. It's common sense. Come back to ours."

Gwen gives Rhys' shoulders a squeeze and steps back. "What about Ianto?" she asks softly.

"He can come too. Not like the two of them'll complain about sharing a bed. It's a flat, but it's not that small."

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Jack says politely, even though he's half-charmed by the idea. He's also wondering how much Rhys knows about him and Ianto, how many of Gwen and Ianto's little confidences have been broadcast to the world at large. Not that Jack minds, but he's hates feeling out of the loop.

"Look," Rhys says, stepping closer and brandishing a finger at him. "Gwen'll sleep better knowing the two of you are close by."

"It's not--"

"Do us a favour and agree to come back. If I have to knock you out and drag you back to that car to make sure Gwen gets a good night's sleep, I'll do it. But I'd rather not."

Gwen twitches with embarrassment. "Rhys, it's a couple of nightmares, it's not--"

"I don't want you brandishing a gun when you've only had two hours sleep," Rhys says firmly, turning back to chide Gwen as if they were talking about dirty dishes left in the sink. Jack was right: if Rhys has to argue down both of them, he's clearly willing to do so.

Shaking his head, grinning, Jack says, "Gwen, we'll stay a couple of nights. If only for the sake of avoiding arguments."

"Thank you," Gwen says to Jack, but from the smile on Rhys' face, he knows it's mostly meant for him.

"Just let me find--" Jack glances over and there's Ianto. He's standing by the water tower, in a new suit, clean shirt and tie, watching them. His hair is damp, slightly curled. His eyes look a little bloodshot, but that could be tiredness.

(Apart from an hour-long nap on the couch, Ianto's been awake since John's attack, helping emergency services until UNIT arrived and then helping Jack deal with the bodies and the cover stories, writing letters to families and archiving the physical records. Jack should have made him lie down and get some rest, but he'd needed the help.)

Jack smiles at Ianto and says, "We've been invited to an exotic getaway in Casa del Williams."

"It's not exotic if it's in Cardiff."

Jack ignores the sarcasm. "Did you need to get anything before we go?"

Ianto shakes his head but he doesn't step closer. "I'm waiting for a call from UNIT. Should be in the next half hour. I'll meet you at Gwen's."

"Ianto--"

"I could hang around," Rhys says. "No problem. We could drive back together."

"No need." Ianto stays there, so carefully presented, standing upright. One hand pressed against the water tower as if he needs the strength. "I'd want to drive my car back anyway."

"You've had an hours sleep," Jack points out, striding over to him. "There is no way you're driving."

"I'll catch a taxi."

Jack looks at Ianto intently, trying to stare him down. It's something that's never worked in the past and it doesn't work now. Ianto only narrows his eyes, holding his ground as Jack reaches a hand out and cups the back of Ianto's neck.

"I'll be over later, Jack," Ianto says.

Jack has no choice but to nod and let Ianto have this.

***

Closing the bedroom door behind him, Rhys walks to the living room and picks up Gwen's coat. He fishes her mobile out of her pocket, scrolling through the address book until he finds Ianto's name. Then he calls.

"Yes, Gwen?" Ianto answers smoothly after the second ring. "Was there something you needed?"

"It's me," Rhys says as he realises how unhelpful that is. "It's Rhys."

"I assumed that."

"Really?"

"Most likely person to have Gwen's phone," Ianto explains. "What did you need?"

"You, here." From what Rhys' seen, Ianto's an all right bloke and he doesn't want push him too hard. But he also wants Gwen to stop looking up at him hopefully when he pops his head round the door to ask if they want drinks or a snack. He wants her to stop biting her lip and looking worried when he says that Ianto hasn't shown up yet. "Not to pry, but how much longer will you be? Be nice to give those two a definite answer."

The sigh on the other side of the line sounds tired. "UNIT's demanded extra support. I've told them that Gwen and Jack were injured during the chaos of yesterday. I'm doing my best to answer questions and get this finished as quickly as possible."

"Any idea--" Rhys falls silent as Jack slinks out of the hallway and walks over to the kitchen where Rhys is standing.

"Is that Ianto?" Jack demands. Rhys barely nods before Jack's snatching the phone out of his hands. Then, sounding more annoyed than fond, he asks, "Why are you still at the Hub?"

Jack listens to Ianto's reply and frowns. "That's ridiculous. Tell them that if they want to walk around in those snazzy red caps and act like the be-all-and-end-all of alien threats, then they can deal with the clean-up for once. You don't need to hold their hands--"

Jack breaks off half-way through, listening. For a second, he looks terribly sad. "Ianto, you don't need to."

A moment of silence as Jack wanders past Rhys, stopping at their kitchen window. "No. Leave it. Come over here." There isn't much of a view (brick walls, mostly) but Jack stares out at it as if the meaning of life is hidden in the mortar.

"Then consider it an order," he says, starting to sound angry. "No, Ianto--"

Another moment of silence, then Jack spins around on his heel with a face like thunder. It'd be more intimidating if the man hadn't spent the last hour watching Clueless with Gwen. Some people have comfort food; Gwen has comfort TV. "Ianto, this is-- Fine!" he said loudly, shoving the phone back into Rhys' hand.

"Okay," Rhys says, caught by surprise.

"Apparently interrupting someone else's conversation is rude," Jack says, throwing his hands up in the air and stalking back to the bedroom. "And people think I'm stubborn!"

Rhys looks at the phone gingerly. Then he raises it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Ah," Ianto says, pausing. "Sorry about that. Jack gets... protective."

"I've noticed." Then, because Gwen will ask him, Rhys adds, "What's going on?"

"I'm waiting for a call from UNIT. They might need help reinstating some of the city's systems. Our computers have more access than theirs."

"Are they supposed to?"

"No, they're not. It's only--" Ianto takes a sharp breath, like he's trying not to say something. He lets it out slow, and the sound echoes like static across the line. "I'll be there when I can. Look after them."

"They'll be fine," Rhys promises, "as long as you show up sometime tonight."

***

Ianto shows up two hours later. He lets himself in with a quiet krrr-chnk of the door unlocking, and Rhys is on his feet in record time, scrambling to the front door and brandishing a mug (because nothing stops a burglar like a well-thrown mug hitting him in the face, Rhys will swear to that in court).

"You have a copy of our keys?" Rhys asks, when he recognises the surprised face in his doorway.

"I didn't want to wake anyone," Ianto explains, closing the door. "Gwen gave them to me."

"Really?"

"She asked me to check on the mail while you were in Paris." Ianto toes off his shoes, nudging them into line at the side of the door.

"Oh," Rhys says, sitting back down and putting the mug back on the coffee table. "Forgot about that."

Ianto looks around the room and then walks over to the sofa, taking the other end. "Where's Jack and Gwen?"

"In bed together." Rhys hooks a thumb towards the bedroom.

Ianto looks sideways at him. It's a very hard expression to read. "You seem very sanguine about that fact."

"About..." Rhys thinks for a second, then he gets it. "Oh, no, they're watching movies. Right now, they're about two hours into Pride and Prejudice. Wild horses couldn't make me watch another four hours of it."

Ianto grimaces in agreement, making him a good sort in Rhys' books, and glances at the telly. "You were watching the match?"

"Yeah." Rhys says hopefully, "Mind if I put it back on?"

"Please." The expression on Ianto's face is pure gratitude. Rhys guesses that even if you're shagging a guy, you still get attitude for watching a bit of footy.

"If you want a beer, there's some in the fridge."

"Sounds good."

Rhys waits until Ianto's off the sofa and almost at the kitchen, and then adds, "While you're there, get one for me, would you?"

***

Jack can feel himself starting to get twitchy. It's got nothing to do with the film. He's enjoying it, once he got used to the idea of a romance only concerned with love between men and women. (He asked Gwen about it, assuming the great romance was Bingley and Darcy, and she swiped his shoulder and told him this was traditional romance: "Simple boy meets girl, both pine away miserable and heartbroken, then they get married. The boys don't kiss the boys, the girls don't kiss the girls. In fact, there's very little snogging altogether. It's a classic.")

Gwen's curled up on her side, knees pulled high, denim stretched tight across her thighs, and a pillow tucked under her head. Her eyes are half-closed. She's probably more asleep than not.

Jack speaks softly, "I'm just going to go check with Rhys. I'll be back," and she mumbles something that might be agreement.

Jack slides off the bed and finds Rhys on the couch, watching sports.

"I think you'll need to give me a lift to the Hub," Jack says, trying hard not to command, since Rhys isn't actually part of his team.

Rhys pulls a disappointed face. "How come?"

Before Jack can say that Ianto shouldn't be working alone, that if UNIT still needs someone, it should be Jack stuck there all night, Ianto's voice calls out from the tiny kitchen. "I think I tidied everything up, Jack. It should be able to wait for a night."

"When did you get here?"

"About half an hour ago," he says as Jack steps closer and pulls him into a quick hug. Ianto drops his head to Jack's shoulder, just for a moment, then he pulls back. "Do you want coffee? Instant, I'm afraid."

"You should be sleeping." Jack curves a hand around the line of Ianto's jaw, stretches his fingers down Ianto's neck, feeling the strong pulse beneath the pale skin.

"Well, it's a choice of sleep or coffee," Ianto says, shrugging. "I don't-- I don't think I could sleep yet. Not just yet."

"Okay." Jack nods, and lets his hand linger. "Do you want to watch TV with us? We're watching, um..."

"Pride and Prejudice," Rhys calls out from the couch.

"That's it. It's good."

Ianto gives him a look of surprise. He'd worn the same expression when Jack suggested going salsa dancing one night. "I'll pass, thank you."

"If you need anything," Jack says, pulling his hand back.

Ianto watches him, looking too serious for someone so chronologically young. "Coffee, honestly. Nothing else."

***

Gwen falls asleep in Jack's arms: snoring and drooling against his shoulder, which is simply disgusting. Jack stays until the final credits slide up the screen, then he nudges her onto her back and creeps out.

The sofa-bed's already been made up with clean sheets, pillows and duvets, but Ianto and Rhys are sitting on the end of it, either discussing a battle plan or the last match. With all that talk of attack and defence, it's hard to be sure.

"She's fallen asleep?" Rhys asks when he finally stops acting out a play with his arms and notices Jack.

"Like a loud, snoring baby."

"Well, I'm not working tomorrow so I'll see you both in the morning." Rhys gets up and heads for the bedroom, calling out "Night," as he goes.

Ianto strips down to his shirt and boxers, barely looking at Jack and gets under the covers first. "Last in has to turn the lights off," he says, so Jack does.

When he gets into bed, the springs creak beneath him. The metal frame is hard and the mattress is thin, but Jack's slept in worse conditions. Back when he needed to sleep.

These days, Jack doesn't sleep much. He's become used to lying awake while Ianto sleeps beside him. He knows the way that Ianto falls asleep on his side of the bed, not touching, and how he rolls and shifts in his sleep until he has at least an arm and a leg hooked over Jack, holding on.

Tonight, Ianto just lays there. By Jack's guess, it's been nearly an hour but Ianto doesn't shift, doesn't get comfortable. Instead, he lies straight on his narrow side, lying on his back, not moving at all.

"Are you awake?" Jack asks softly, in case he's wrong.

There's a rustle and the springs creak as Ianto rolls to his side, facing Jack. "Yup."

Jack reaches out and slides his open palm against Ianto's side. It's nice to lie like this, to feel the heat of Ianto's body and the movement of each breath against his hand.

"It's stupid, really. I should be asleep and I don't want to," Ianto says quietly into the darkness. "I don't want to sleep. I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning and know that--"

Ianto takes a deep, shuddering breath and Jack smooths his hand down across Ianto's chest, flicking open buttons to slide his hand across skin. He freezes, holding his hand over Ianto's heart.

"Stupid. Staying awake won't change it, but..."

"Waking up and knowing makes it real," Jack finishes, thumb brushing the curve of collarbone.

"It's just--" Ianto breaks off as if he doesn't have the words. Jack knows exactly how he feels.

"It feels unnecessary and unfair, but they went for a good reason. Protecting people. They would have been proud. Proud of how they went, proud of how we're going to carry on without them."

"I know. I just..." Ianto's voice becomes even softer in the dark. "I wasn't ready to lose them."

There isn't anything Jack can say to that, so he pulls Ianto over to him, Ianto's cheek against Jack's chest, and holds on.

***

Rhys wakes up to find Gwen stretched across the bed, hogging all the covers.

He gets up and goes to make himself a cup of tea, completely forgetting about their houseguests until he sees them spread out on the settee. They look dead to the world: Jack lying on his back; Ianto draped across him like Jack's nothing but a huge pillow.

Thinking better of it, Rhys heads back down to the bedroom, pulls on some clothes, and then goes to put on the kettle. He sneaks past but Jack opens his eyes, grins, and winks at Rhys. "Didn't have to get dressed on my account."

Gwen warned him about this. She specifically said that if Jack made any outrageous sexual comments, best to ignore him. "Is he still asleep?" Rhys asks, pointing at Ianto's dark head, buried in the crook of Jack's neck.

"He'll sleep through a bomb raid. As long as I don't try to move."

"Huh," Rhys says, looking at Ianto's hand curled around Jack's shoulder, the tight way he's holding on even though he's asleep.

"What?"

Rhys shrugs. "Doesn't seem the clingy type, that's all."

Jack's smile is affectionate and surprisingly proud. It softens his features, almost makes him look like a guy Rhys would want to know. "He's not." Then Jack looks down at Ianto, sprawled across his chest and raises a hand to the nape of Ianto's neck, stroking fingernails through the short hair.

It's an odd sight. Here's this bloke who walks around in the world's biggest shoulder pads -- got to be fake, no matter what Gwen says -- who yells, bullies and intimidates whenever charm won't work, and enjoys brandishing a gun and saving the world. And here's the same bloke tenderly stroking someone's hair, curled up in bed and apparently content to be a living mattress.

Rhys has listened to Gwen talk about Jack and the way she's described him... Well. He sounds like the type of guy to tap the hot, young thing in the office, to flirt and cajole as many people into bed as he can. The way she's spoken about Ianto, he seemed like the proper relationship type. But Jack?

Rhys simply couldn't picture it. And here it is, on his settee.

Takes all types, he supposes. "Want a cuppa? I'm making Gwen and me tea..."

"Coffee. Please."

Rhys puts on the kettle and gets three matching mugs out of the cupboard. He puts the spoonful of coffee into the one with the chipped rim.

Rhys is a man of many talents, but the ability to carry more than two mugs at a time has never been one of them. So he gives Jack his coffee first. (Doesn't even say thank you. Rude sod.) Then Rhys goes back to the kitchen for his and Gwen's, and disappears back into the bedroom.

Gwen's still stretched out across the bed, but now she's face-down, arms akimbo.

"Got you a cuppa," he says, placing her mug on the bedside table and taking his around to the other side of the bed.

Gwen yawns loudly and then pushes herself up, grumbling. She steals three of the four pillows to prop herself up.

Rhys gives her a few minutes of silence before he talks. "I took the next few days off," he says, waiting to see if she'll reply or just blink at him. He knows his Gwen: the blinking is a standard stalling mechanism for when her brain's shut down.

She swallows another mouthful of tea. Then yawns. "And?"

"If those two are staying for a few days, I'll go out later and get some more food."

"Ah," Gwen says, putting down her mug. Her Aunt Iris gave them the mugs as a housewarming gift: bright yellow, neon pink, huge horrible daisies. The ugliest things in the world.

When Rhys looks away from the eyesores, Gwen's pushing her hair back out of her face. She meets his gaze, then leans forward and kisses him warmly. She pulls back a few inches and smiles.

"What was that for?" Rhys asks, trying hard to look at the sweet smile on her face and not at the way the thin t-shirt is stretched across her chest, the curve of breasts and peak of nipples clearly visible.

Okay, he sneaks a quick look and then watches her smile (which gets a little predatory).

"It was a thank you for making them stay here. For putting up with them. For putting up with me. For putting up with all of this."

"So I put up with your mates from work, the end of the world and Andy's sarcasm, and all I get's a kiss?"

The expression in Gwen's dark eyes is pure cheekiness. "What did you have in mind?"

Rhys slides a hand along her side, the cotton skin-warm. "We could start with getting naked."

"And feel our way from there?" Gwen asks, leaning in and kissing him soundly. He loves the way Gwen kisses. She kisses like a woman who knows what she wants. She doesn't care if it's ladylike, if it makes her something less than a 'good girl', she doesn't care about any of that stuff. But she cares about him and she knows how to show it.

And when she rakes her nails lightly across his stomach, all Rhys can think about is her hands and her bare skin against his, and... "Wait."

"What?" She pulls back just enough to let him talk, but moves to straddle him, her exposed thighs warm under his hands.

"What about your boss in the next room?"

Gwen pauses, pretending to think about it. "Tough."

"Tough?"

"If he wants to get naked with a hot, sexy Welshman, he's got his own." Rhys splutters in surprise and Gwen gives him a firm, but teasing, look. "I've no intention of sharing."

"I meant that they'll hear us."

Gwen's always been a little more daring than Rhys, always up for a little adventure, but he doesn't expect her to shrug and ask, "So?"

"Gwen!"

"As long as they're not ogling your naked body, I don't care."

For a moment, Rhys considers mentioning Jack's comment this morning, then he decides not to. "You don't think it'll make things a little uncomfortable?"

Gwen gives him a look. It's a look that says, 'Rhys Williams, I've known you for far too many years for you to pretend to be someone you're not'.

"And you care about that?" she asks, lifting up the edge of her t-shirt and pulling it over her head swiftly. She's wearing nothing underneath. "You really care about that?"

Rhys shakes his head and pulls her to him.

***

Jack understands the necessity of living in close quarters: the importance of privacy, or the illusion of it. In wars, stuck in the confinement of trenches, it was important to ignore the sounds heard at night. Whether it was crying or laughter, angry passion or desperate comfort, it was disrespectful to listen, to take that last shred of dignity from your fellow soldier.

But here? Gwen could have put the radio on, so Jack figures eavesdropping is fair enough. Not that he's going out of his way to eavesdrop.

He's more... lying here and letting himself imagine precisely what makes Gwen gasp high and breathless, what causes those low, rough grunts of hers. Jack has a good imagination.

Plus, he's bored. Normally, he'd wake Ianto up but after the last fifty hours, Ianto deserves the rest. So he's entertaining himself by listening to those grunts and picturing Gwen on her hands and knees, Rhys solid and undeniable behind her, fucking her with short, sharp thrusts.

In his arms, Ianto stirs. "What is it?" he mumbles against Jack's shoulder, consonants slurred and rounded with sleep.

"Go back to sleep." Jack brushes a kiss to Ianto's temple but Ianto shakes his head, rolling off Jack and onto his side.

"What's wrong with the Weevils? They don't usually sound like--" Ianto stops, looking around at their surroundings, face crumpled in worry and confusion.

"We're at Gwen's place," Jack says, knowing Ianto has trouble getting his bearings when he first wakes up. The first dozen times he'd woken up in Jack's bed, he'd had the same startled reaction. "We stayed the night."

"Oh. Where's Gwen? And what's that..." Amazingly enough, Ianto looks suddenly embarrassed. Jack's not sure if it's because the grunting suddenly got louder or because Ianto remembers his first assumption about the noises. Either way, Ianto's adorable with his eyes wide and his cheeks flushed. "Oh."

"Yeah," Jack laughs. "We could always show them how it's done."

Ianto's eyes go even wider. Very, very slowly, he says, "No."

Jack sighs. He'd argue but he knows that tone. It's the same tone Ianto used to veto the idea of a quick fumble in the cells -- "I will go Weevil-hunting with you, Jack. I will help you manhandle them into the cells. I'll not have sex where a Weevil can see or where a Weevil has lived." -- so for as long as they stay at Gwen's, Jack's probably going to be mildly frustrated.

He can live with that. But he can't help trying, "You want to lie here and listen to other people having fun?"

"We'll put on the telly for background noise," Ianto says, sitting up, shirt loose over his shoulders. Ianto tugs it into place and then gives Jack a hopeful smile. "We could make breakfast."

Jack sits up enough to kiss him -- doesn't say there are other things he'd much rather eat -- and then nods. "I'm pretty good with toast."

"I think you'd be good on chopping duty too." Then Ianto gets out of the bed, pulls on his pants, and pads over to the kitchen.

Jack follows -- pants on, shoes off -- and tugs Ianto into a quick hug. There's something so reassuring about skin and bone and muscle, so warm and alive under his hands.

Ianto gives him a brief squeeze back and steps away, saying, "Come on. Help me find a frypan."

***

They find a frypan, knives and a chopping board and Ianto pulls things out of the fridge: a few tomatoes, eggs, a packet of bacon hidden up the back, mushrooms, bread and after a bit of searching in the pantry, a few potatoes.

"How many are we feeding?" Jack asks, looking at the display.

Ianto rolls his eyes and hands Jack the potato peeler. While Jack peels, Ianto searches the cupboards for something else. As Jack starts the second potato, there's a quiet, "There we go," and Ianto pulls out two tins of baked beans.

Behind the noise of morning talk shows, a shower starts to run. By the time Rhys steps into the kitchen, hair still damp, Ianto's standing over two frypans, occasionally pushing things round.

The kitchen smells fantastic, full of frying food. Jack can smell bacon, eggs and mushrooms, sliced potatoes and halved tomatoes, baked beans bubbling away in a pot. Jack's washed the knives and chopping board, dried them and put them away, and now he's leaning against the counter, indulging in one of his favourite hobbies: watching Ianto.

"Bathroom's free if you want a shower," Rhys says, sniffing appreciatively. "Given the size of our water heater, you might want to make it quick."

"Thanks," Ianto says, flipping over potato slices with the spatula. He looks over his shoulder, nodding towards the bathroom. "Jack?"

"Coming with me?"

"Might be the only way you get enough hot water for two," Rhys mutters and Jack grins at him for the support. Then Rhys steps forward, a hand on the back of Ianto's shoulder and says, "I can keep an eye on this."

Ianto gives him a slow, careful look, possibly remembering the time Gwen burnt toast. More correctly, the time she got the toast stuck in the toaster and nearly set the Hub's small kitchenette on fire. "It's okay. It'll be done soon."

"I'll keep Gwen far away from it," Rhys promises and pulls the spatula from Ianto's hand. "Go on."

Jack glances down and notices Ianto wriggling his bare toes against the lino. It looks like he's about to object so Jack wraps a hand around his wrist and tugs him unceremoniously out of the kitchen. "Come on. You heard the man."

Ianto's too surprised to argue, too surprised to fight, and Jack gets him all the way to the corridor before Ianto manages, "Jack, what are you--"

"Shower," Jack says, "now."

"It's a shower, not sex. There's no urgency."

"This is the only time I'll get to see you naked all day," Jack replies. "There's urgency."

Ianto laughs, so Jack grabs both of his hands and pulls him into the bathroom, snibbing the door locked behind them. It's a small bathroom, a little cramped for two, but there's enough space to step forward, to tug at the loose collar of Ianto's shirt, to pull the tail untucked.

"Jack," Ianto says warningly.

"I'm only getting you undressed." Jack opens buttons, revealing pale skin underneath. "Nothing sexual about it."

"I don't think that's possible for you." A smirk. Jack rewards it with a slow, teasing kiss -- knowing it won't go any further but enjoying it anyway -- and pushes Ianto's shirt off his shoulders.

Ianto's left shoulder is a palette of bruises, dark colours bleeding into each other. Jack stares, distantly remembering building falling on top of them and dislocated shoulder. He can't believe he'd forgotten. "Did you see anyone about that?"

"It's a few bruises, Jack," Ianto says fondly, like Jack's worrying over nothing. "A couple of scrapes."

"Answer the question. Did Owen treat it, at all?"

The indulgent smile slips from Ianto's face and he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't important. Time constraints."

Ianto lifts his chin, proud and stubborn, and stares Jack right in the eyes. Ianto looks like he's ready to fight Jack, but this isn't an argument. It isn't something Jack's trying to win.

"You should have got that seen to," Jack says softly. He lays his hand flat across Ianto's cheek.

Ianto leans into the touch. "It really is just a few bruises, a few scrapes. Nothing to worry about." Ianto closes his eyes.

"Shower first. Then I'll look at it. I'm sure Gwen will have something." It's not what Jack wants to say, not really, but it's the only thing that will help, that will be of any use.

He steps back and gets rid of his own clothing, suddenly wanting the shower over as soon as possible. He doesn't let his expression change when Ianto finishes pulling off the shirt, shucking out of his trousers and turns around to lay them over the bathtub. There are scrapes and bruises from the curve of Ianto's shoulders to the back of his knees, grazes healed into small scapes, skin mostly a reddish purple with tinges of green and yellow already at the edges.

A building fell on them, and Jack had almost forgotten.

They shower efficiently, nothing teasing or romantic about it, and afterwards Jack finds witch-hazel for the bruises and Dettol for the scrapes. Ianto perches on the edge of the bathtub, bare feet on the cold porcelain, sitting straight and silent while Jack dabs with cotton-buds.

Jack hates feeling like this, like he failed someone. He can deal with failing Tosh and Owen, all those things he should have done, could have. Should have got Torchwood to wake him up earlier, should have spent ten hours avoiding himself so he could be there when his team needed him. Should have dealt with Grey faster, should have checked on Tosh earlier. But he had no prior knowledge. At the time, there was no way he could have known how much his lack of haste would cost.

But he has no excuse for this. He knew. And he forgot.

At times like this, Jack thinks Ianto would be better off anywhere else with anyone else. Less likely to be taken for granted, less likely to be injured. Jack knows it isn't as simple as this. Even people who live ordinary lives still suffer, sometimes in little ways, sometimes in big ways, but living a life that appears riskless doesn't guarantee safety. He knows he's just being maudlin.

Jack gathers up the witch-hazel and Dettol, puts them back in the bathroom cupboard.

Ianto stands, puts on the same rumpled white shirt, leaving the top few buttons open. Stepping forward, he presses a warm kiss to the corner of Jack's jaw.

"Thank you," he says. "It really did slip my mind but, yes, I probably should've mentioned it earlier."

Jack nods, tries to smile. He doesn't think it works. Not when Ianto taps a finger to Jack's nose and says, "Stop looking like you're longing for a good roof. We've got breakfast waiting."

***

The table's only big enough to sit three. Rhys offered his chair, but Ianto waved it off. "These days, I'm used to eating standing up. Feel odd to break the habit." He carries his over to the kitchen bench, and seems quite content to stand there, fork in hand.

Gwen talks about calling her mum yesterday, about her parents complaining that they haven't seen her since the wedding. Jack goes with it, asking questions about Swansea, about Gwen's family. Between them, they keep up a steady stream of chatter and Rhys joins in when necessary, saying, "You know your mum. You could live next door and she'd still say they don't see you enough," and "Don't forget the last time we visited," but he can't help glancing over at the kitchen.

Can't help watching Ianto eating breakfast like it's a duty, stabbing with his fork and chewing like he has an obligation to clear his plate. He seems lost in his own head, staring at the stack of mail on the counter. He looks up at Jack and Gwen, and catches Rhys staring. The change is sudden and unnerving -- a friendly smile, a cheerful nod -- and he holds that expression, watching until Rhys looks away.

***

Gwen pulls North and South from their shelf and she and Jack disappear back to the bedroom. Rhys watches them go with relief and then helps Ianto clear the table.

"There's a dishwasher under the sink," Rhys points out when Ianto pulls out the plug and starts running water. "Only way the dishes get done around here. I figure if I'm cooking, I shouldn't have to wash up. Gwen figures if she has to wash up, she'd rather eat off paper plates."

"Okay," Ianto says, and starts stacking. He separates the cutlery, putting forks in one section of the basket, knives in another. Spoons and teaspoons get divided into their own sections too.

Once the dishwasher's whirring away, and the frypans are cleaned and back in the cupboard, Ianto wipes down every surface. He rinses the cloth after him and hangs it over the tap to dry. Then he looks around the spotless kitchen, frowning.

"What?" Rhys asks.

"Anything else I can do?"

"Relax?" Rhys offers, and Ianto grimaces for a moment. "That's not going to work for you, is it?"

Ianto shrugs apologetically. "I'd rather be busy. Really, I could do anything. Mop the floors or clean the windows. Do the ironing?"

There's a moment -- a very short moment -- where Rhys considers pulling out the pile of ironing sitting in the bottom of their cupboard (Gwen's shirts, which she keeps swearing she'll do on her next day off). But it's not exactly hospitable. "Get yourself a cuppa, sit down and watch today's match with me."

Ianto nods and does as he's told.

Within ten minutes, he's driven Rhys up the wall. Rhys is sure it's unintentional since Ianto's watching the game and sitting silently, but still. Ianto keeps glancing at his watch. Keeps tapping a finger against the side of his thigh in an urgent, restless rhythm. It's not a big thing, just enough movement to grab Rhys' attention, and Rhys suspects Ianto doesn't know he's doing it, but it's downright irritating.

Rhys doesn't have the heart to tell him off, so instead he hooks a thumb at the shared desk and says, "If you want, you could use the computer. Go online, fill in a few hours that way."

Ianto nods and doesn't look at him. He mutters, "Thanks," and scurries over to the desk, switching the computer on.

***

After an hour of clicking and tapping, Ianto looks over his shoulder at Rhys and asks, "How long does that movie go for?"

Rhys has no idea what Ianto's talking about, not until Ianto points towards the bedroom. "Oh. Another four hours, at least."

"Hmmm," Ianto says. Then he closes down the computer, turns everything off, and stands up. "If Jack asks, tell him I've gone for a walk. Tell him I left five minutes ago."

"At nine-thirty?" Rhys asks, looking at the clock.

"No. Literally tell him that I left five minutes ago. Whenever he asks."

Rhys rubs at his eyes, cringing at the thought of explaining this to Gwen. "Look, mate, no offence but I don't know you well enough to lie for you. Especially not when Gwen--"

"Then don't lie to Gwen," Ianto says, as if it's that simple. He smiles and looks so trustworthy it worries Rhys. "If you want, don't lie to Jack. I'll probably be back before they notice I'm gone."

For some reason, when Ianto says it like that, it sounds reasonable. Sounds practical. Sounds fair enough that Rhys nods and Ianto leaves.

Rhys settles on the settee to watch the rest of the match. After that, he gets caught up watching Nigella Lawson -- that woman makes preparing a casserole seem pornographic -- and when Jack comes out and asks about Ianto, he replies without thinking, "Went for a walk."

"Really?" Jack asks smoothly. "When?"

"Oh, about..." Rhys glances up at the clock, remembers Ianto's words, and then looks over at Jack. "About five minutes ago."

Rhys doesn't sound very certain, doesn't sound at all believable, so he's not surprised when Jack's eyes narrow. "Five minutes, huh?" Jack reaches into a pocket and pulls out a mobile phone. He presses a few buttons and then there's a ringing from the table, accompanied by a low shuddering sound as it vibrates across the wood.

"Look, he said to tell you that he'd gone for a walk," Rhys says hopefully.

"And that he'd left five minutes ago?" Jack asks, but talks before Rhys has a chance to answer. "Trust me, I know Ianto. He's back at the Hub. Gwen!"

He hollers from the living room and Gwen comes jogging out. When Rhys does that, he gets a mouthful. When Jack does it, Gwen jogs into the living room and says, "What is it?"

"Rhys let Ianto go back to the Hub."

"Oh, Rhys!" she says, shooting him a disapproving look.

"He said he was going for a walk." Rhys shrugs at her, hands held high. "How was I supposed to know?"

"By the fact that he asked you to lie about where he was going?" Jack shoots back, eyebrows drawn and heavy.

"I didn't know he was lying about the walk," Rhys calls out, but Jack's already pulling his coat on and swirling out the door.

Gwen gets a hand on his arm as he passes. "Jack--"

"I'm going to get him," Jack all but growls at her.

"Of course." She nods, pulling her hand back. "Just... be a bit gentle. We're all a touch fragile right now."

Jack stares at her, holding the eye-contact for a touch too long, and then goes. That's when Gwen turns on Rhys and says, "And you, Rhys Allan Williams, how could you let Ianto go off like that? I would have expected better."

"He's a grown man. How was I to know he'd lie about going in to work?"

***

By the time the Hub door rolls back, old metal chunk-chunk-chunking as it moves, Jack's almost calm. Apart from the huge part of him that's worried out of his mind, and the other lump that's ridiculously angry that Ianto would try to use deception to leave, he's completely calm. He strides past the workstations and finds Ianto in his office, sitting at Jack's desk, eyes closed and rubbing at his temples. He's still wearing that rumpled white shirt with the collar undone; at any other time, Jack would appreciate the view.

"No, sir, you don't understand," Ianto says wearily. The sound of that familiar, tired voice dispels the anger clenched in Jack's jaw and soothes most of the worry from his gut. "Miss Jones was not 'running interference'. She was acting on our behalf as we are currently short-staffed and--"

Ianto pulls a face -- so comically distressed that Jack laughs -- and then his eyes startle open. He stares at Jack but doesn't say a word.

Jack leans forward, taps the phone sitting on his desk, and whispers, "Transfer the call."

Ianto shakes his head, tries to wave Jack away as he says, "Of course, sir, but--" so Jack reaches over and takes the earpiece off him. He holds it up to his own ear and hears an officious, military voice saying, "This is ridiculous, young man. If you will not put me onto your Captain, I will be forced to--"

"Captain Jack Harkness speaking," Jack interrupts and if he sounds angry, so be it. "Who am I speaking to?"

"Lieutenant-Major Andrew Martin here. We've been trying to contact you since--"

"What do you need?" Jack asks as Ianto gets out of his, moving away from Jack and around the desk. He starts closing the files on Jack's desk, picking them up.

"We are trying to co-ordinate the hospitalisation of the Weevil victims and your team has been most unhelpful--"

"Sort it out," Jack says, and ignores the spluttering on the other end of the line. "We lost forty percent of our team and stopped the mass Weevil attack. I'm sure you lot are capable of dealing with a few bandages."

"But," Martin says, choking on his words, "we need to co-ordinate--"

"Send me a memo," Jack says and hangs up. He takes a breath, watching Ianto eye the files in his arms and put them back down on the desk, and then adds, "I should have said send an email. No-one sends memos these days."

"Didn't sound too dated." There's a twist of Ianto's lips, almost a smirk, but it's gone too quick for Jack to be sure.

"Ianto," Jack says, stepping forward.

"Don't." Ianto ducks down, picking up the files and holding them protectively. "Just don't, Jack."

"Don't what?" Ianto takes a step towards the office door, but Jack intercepts him, gets a hand on each of his elbows and holds him steady. "Don't say that you shouldn't be here?"

"Don't make this..." Ianto keeps his head bent down as if avoiding Jack's gaze means he can ignore Jack's point. "Things needed to be done."

"Like what?"

"Feeding Myfanwy. Feeding the Weevils." Jack had forgotten about both of those daily tasks, and he's ready to apologise until Ianto adds, "Other things," and looks down. That's when Jack notices the colour of the folders. They only ever used the dark purple for employee information, for the physical records and next-of-kin details.

He gets his hands around the two folders and pulls them out of Ianto's grip. "You don't have to call the families," he says gently, placing the folders back on his desk.

"Someone has to."

"It's not your job."

"Doesn't matter. Someone has to and I--" Ianto drags in a shaky breath, forehead going smooth and tight like it does when he's distressed. "I can't--"

Jack brushes fingertips over Ianto temples, sliding along his hairline. He doesn’t step closer, doesn't want to crowd Ianto, so he keeps the touch feather-light and careful. "You can't what?"

"I can't--" Ianto shrugs, but doesn't move away from Jack's hand. "I can't be whatever Gwen is to you. I can't cry and talk about giving it up, I can't lie around miserable and pretend the world doesn't keep turning. I can't say the right words because I don't know what they are. I can't make this feel any better, because..."

"Because?" Jack prompts, sliding his hand around Ianto's jaw, feeling Ianto's throat move as he swallows.

"Because I know this feeling, like someone's cracked open your ribcage and pulled out handfuls of flesh. Like every time you breathe in, all you can feel is what's missing and how much it hurts. I don't know how to make it better. All I know is how to keep breathing, keep taking one step after another. Keep doing one mindless, pointless task after the next until things become meaningful again."

The pain in Ianto's tone is clear and Jack has to kiss him: a light press of lips to his chin, to his soft mouth, to the curve of youthful cheek. "It gets better."

"I know," Ianto says, his hands on Jack's shoulders, letting Jack pull him into a hug. "Eventually it becomes a horrible thing that happened, instead of the only thing you can think about, but I don't know how to sit around and wait for that happen. I can't. But I can do this. I can hold the fort, do what needs to be done so you and Gwen have time."

Jack holds him close, feels their chests move as they breathe. He struggles for the words to explain this. "I need you. More than I need time, I need you. I don't need you to say the right words or do anything, I just need you there. I need to know that as bad as it was, as much as I've lost, I didn't lose you."

Ianto squeezes him. "I'm still here," he says softly, but doesn't say anything else.

"Tomorrow," Jack says, kissing him quickly. "Tomorrow we'll come in, feed the pets and call parents. We'll do our jobs. Just give me today?"

Ianto nods against his shoulder.

***

Ianto drives them back to Gwen's place and lets them in with a key.

"We're back," Jack calls out and suddenly Gwen's in the hallway, Rhys a few steps behind her, looking relieved.

"All okay?" Rhys asks, looking from Ianto to Jack.

"Everything's fine," Ianto says, but Jack hears the catch in his voice.

Maybe Gwen hears it, or maybe she sees something on his face, because she pulls Ianto into a solid hug and croons, "Oh, sweetheart," as she rubs his back.

Jack's seen Ianto with Gwen. Seen the way they occasionally link arms, the way they'll sit side-by-side and chat over coffee. He knows the respectful distance Ianto usually keeps between them. He half-expects Ianto to balk, to pull away, but Ianto doesn't. He just holds on as she smooths her hand up and down his back.

Gwen pats his back twice and says, "Come and watch TV with us. Tall, dark, handsome men in dramatic coats. You'll love it." Then she steps back and looks over her shoulder. "There's space for you, too, Rhys."

"I'm right in the middle of something." Rhys backs up, slinking towards the living room door but he adds, "If you need anything, yell."

"Will do, love," Gwen says, then she hooks hands around Ianto's elbow and leads him to the bedroom.

Jack kicks off his boots and climbs into the middle of the bed. He lies on his back, pillows stacked high behind him and Ianto perches on the left side of the bed. "Lie down," he says, and Ianto blinks at him.

"I'm perfectly comfortable here," Ianto says. But when Jack tugs his wrist, he follows easy enough, resting his head on Jack's shoulder.

Gwen fiddles with remotes and then curls up against Jack's right side as the theme music starts to play. "No need to look so smug," she says as Jack curls a hand around her shoulder too.

Jack grins. "A great, big bed, a dark-haired beauty in each arm and I'm not supposed to enjoy it?"

"You're not supposed to look as if you're imagining the three of us naked," Ianto chides.

Jack feels his grin get wider but before he can reply, Gwen reaches to Ianto's shoulder and smacks the back of Jack's hand. "Jack Harkness, I'm a married woman."

"A married woman who'd look really good naked," Jack replies. "I'm not suggesting sex. Just a lack of clothes."

"Because one never leads to the other with you," Ianto says pointedly and Gwen giggles.

"Hey--"

Ianto silences him with a fast kiss. "Stop flirting and watch your show," he says firmly, then drops his head to Jack's chest.

Even Gwen's sly, "That's you told," can't stop the smile on Jack's face.

Within ten minutes, he feels Ianto's breathing slow down and fingers loosely grip his shirt. Another few minutes and Gwen whispers, "I think he's fallen asleep on us."

"Let him sleep," Jack says, as quietly as he can. "We'll tell him what he missed."

"Like he cares."

Jack rakes fingernails over the back of Ianto's head and presses a kiss to the inch of forehead he can reach. Then -- because it feels unfair otherwise -- he drops a kiss to Gwen's fringe. Jack settles back to watch the story and keeps his arms around them, holding onto his team while he can.