Title: Job Description
Fandom: Torchwood/Doctor Who
Pairing: Jack/Ianto, Jack/John, ref to Jack/Ten
Rating: NC18
Author: nancy
Spoilers: Children of Earth, Planet of the Dead, all series for both
Series: Torchwood, 2.0
Warnings: angst, language, m/m slash
Summary: The Doctor finds Earth's future hasn't evolved as planned and takes steps to fix things.

The moment the Doctor stepped off the Tardis, he knew something was wrong; he felt it in his bones. Frowning, he looked around the busy London street, but didn't see anything immediately out of place. The sky was overcast, clouds thick and dark, but it was winter so that wasn't unusual. There was a bite to the wind, also not unexpected given the time of year, but something in the wind…a scent, perhaps?

Walking off to the east, the Doctor headed for no destination in particular. He was between companions, having let Christina fly off in the bus, and not picked up anyone new. Not that he would. No, he was done with companions. Too much work, too much effort and then they just went off or were killed. Time had begun to heal the last of his wounds and thoughts of Rose made him smile wistfully instead of ache with pain.

He'd spent a goodly time in the Dextron Nebula wandering from planet to planet and having quite the adventure on Rendi III. He grinned, thinking about the industrial little purple folk he'd most definitely not helped earn their freedom. They'd done it all on their own. Mostly. Well, he'd helped a bit. And then there'd been somewhat of a misadventure on Gorgon IV that he didn't like to think of. Chopping off your hand, again, even if it had turned to stone was nothing to brag about.

As always, Earth called him back. It had been far too long since he'd been and he figured if he timed it somewhere in the twenty-second century, Jack wouldn't be hanging about any longer. He missed Jack, was the problem. Despite the squirmy, uncomfortable feeling the man gave him since becoming immortal, the Doctor missed Jack's brash, completely self-confident energy. Plus it was always fun to talk to someone and have them understand more than one in five words.

Rounding a corner, the Doctor stopped short and blinked in shock at the sight that lay before him: Trafalgar Square in ruins. There was no sign of the fountain or the Nelson's Column and its lions, instead a massive hole gaping into the once smooth surface. The buildings were tinged with black as if they'd been singed by laser fire. A closer look around showed many of the windows boarded up or broken and the cars, now that he was really paying attention, were at least a hundred years out of date.

His frown deepened as he muttered, "I go away for five minutes and this is what happens?" and walked over to a newspaper vendor on the sidewalk. Only, it wasn't newspapers he peddled, but papers bundled into stacks for kindling.

The old man offered a tired smile and asked, "What can I get you? Five stack, ten stack, or I've got sommat of a deal with actual wood. Well, not that I've the wood, y'understand, no need to be thinkin' of robbin' me or th'like. But I knows someone who can get…"

"No, no, no," the Doctor interrupted. "No, I was just wondering, what happened here?"

His question prompted a puzzled look. "What happened where?"

The Doctor's eyebrows lifted and his arm swept out towards what had been Trafalgar Square. "All of that? Giant hole in the middle of the square?"

"The Freshletnesin," the man replied, seemingly genuinely puzzled. "Well, not them first, o'course. We got hit by the Zin back in oh-nine, and before them was the Shaktel in 2194. We're about due for some kind of disaster round about now. It's been a good ten years or so."

Gaping at the man, the Doctor managed to squeak out, "You've been attacked by them? All of them?"

Nodding, the vendor shrugged and replied, "Seems our lot in life. Funny, though, we made it to the twenty-first century without so much as a single alien dropping out of the sky and then whatever protection we seemed to have `til then just…vanished."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," the Doctor ordered. He took a breath, marshaled his thoughts and then questioned, "When did all this start then? What's the first time Earth was attacked by aliens?"

Pursing his lips, the old man's grizzled brow knit almost together as he thought about it. "If I remember m'history right, seems to me that'd been the four-five-six. There was sommat before then about earth moving out of place and a group called Slathern, Slavin…"

"Slitheen?"

"That's them! Right, but nothin' come of it. No, I'd have t'say it'd been the four-five-six that done us in proper, the first time. Took control of all the children, y'see. Demoralized the whole world, not just England. Something made them go away, none of the children were actually taken y'see, but…it's as if the fight went out of us. And then th' others started showin' up right regular and we couldn't do nothin' `bout nothin,'" the old man finished with another shrug.
Reeling at the casual history lesson, as if it was nothing remarkable that mankind were still on Earth and beaten into the dirt, the Doctor just stared at him a moment. Shaking it off, he asked, "When did that happen? Do you remember the year?"

"Oh, now, let's see…was early on back in…2008? 2009? Yes, 2009, I'd say."

Which meshed with the time of when he, Jack, Rose, and Mickey had taken care of Fel Fotch and the Dalek's attempt to destroy the universe. And when he'd lost Donna, though that had been a personal tragedy, not a global one.

Realizing the man was waiting for him, the Doctor nodded and said briskly, "Right! Well, then, time for me to be moving on."

"Any need for kindling, sir?" the vendor prompted hopefully.

Slapping the man on the back, the Doctor replied, "Not this time, but don't worry. I'll make it so you have proper newspapers to sell and you won't even know it. Just need to go find a turning point."

Shaggy eyebrows lifting in apparent confusion, the old man said, "As y'like, sir."

The jog back to the Tardis didn't do anything to stop the whirling of his thoughts. He hadn't been gone that long, so how had all of this come to pass? When he'd left, Jack had Earth secure and safe with Torchwood and Unit working to protect her. Not working together, naturally, but both working.

Closing the door behind him, the Doctor stopped short and said, "Jack. Find Jack and figure out what happened."

It would be easy enough to find him, since Earth was a small place.

*  *  *  *

Jack stiffened when he heard an all-too-familiar whine of machinery that didn't belong. It was a sound that he would never forget no matter how many centuries he lived. Looking over at his second in command, he ordered, "Go outside and you'll find a big, blue box. Bring whoever steps out of it, to me. And you don't have to be gentle, but don't break anything."

Big and burly with dark hair, light eyes, and scars that made his broad face ugly, Gajen was smarter than he looked and never asked questions. It was those qualities and his loyalty that had gotten him to where he was. He snapped at two of the men in their un-merry band of thieves who hastily jumped into line behind him.

Not that Jack minded Gajen's ugly face; he had plenty of his own scars, after all, they were just invisible.

It was only a few minutes later that a loudly protesting Doctor was brought into the large, well-appointed room. Jack had set it up to be somewhat intimidating in its wealth, at least to people who weren't Time Lords. His lips twisted in bitterness at the thought of all the power the Doctor had and often refused to use. He hadn't changed a bit, so far as Jack could tell. Still thin and tall, with the flyaway dark hair that Jack had once run loving fingers through.

Lounging in his comfortable, body-fitted chair with his feet up, Jack gave the other a cold smile and greeted with false cheer, "Doctor! Fancy meeting you here! Been a long time, hasn't it?"

Gajen shoved the Doctor forward, making him stumble the last few feet. He didn't fall, though, instead drawing up slow and dignified as he gazed at Jack. Whatever he saw, he didn't like, Jack could tell by the tightening of his features into something like disdain, certainly disgust.

"What happened, Jack? Earth get too complicated for you?" the Doctor opened sharply, dark eyes like lasers. "Couldn't take all the problems of being a decent person?"

Not rising to the bait, Jack merely smirked at him and drawled, "You know me, Doc. The easy way is best. Definitely more lucrative."

A frown marred the narrow, handsome face and the Doctor dropped his tactic abruptly, repeating in a gentler tone, "What happened, Jack? Why did you leave Torchwood?"

Even after two hundred years, thoughts of Torchwood stabbed through him. Ianto's dying words, begging not to be forgotten, the heaviness of his body as the soul left it… Jaw tight, Jack got to his feet and informed him with bitterness, "You don't get to ask me that, not after all this time."

"It wasn't long for me," the Doctor told him, sounding pained. "I just found out. It's only been six months since the Daleks for me."

It was as close to an apology as he would give, Jack knew, and that twisted in what was left of his heart. Two centuries for him and months for the Doctor. That was just how it went. Unable not to, he snarled viciously, "You abandoned us."

`Us,' not `me.' Not this time. Jack had thought too many times about killing the Doctor for good somehow to hold any kind of sentiment for the man.

The Doctor drew back as if slapped, pale skin paling further.

Pressing his advantage, Jack continued with brutal honesty, "You were off having a grand old time while people on earth were dying, weren't you? While Earth itself was held hostage. I wish I'd been able to stay dead that time. I didn't want to come back."

Not to the pain that followed. The loss that had consumed him for almost a decade.

"Here now, what's this?"

Jack's head whipped over at John's demand, startled by his partner's arrival. While not immortal in the sense that Jack was, the blond had found a way to extend his life and looked only about ten years older. He was even sharper, his edges far more defined; his lust for both life and the good life hadn't abated in the slightest. He'd found Jack drunk out of his mind in some Deviian bar about twenty years after Torchwood and they'd been together ever since, as if they'd never been parted.

Many people had come to find that a very bad thing.

"Who's that, then?" John asked, stopping beside Jack.

Jack's mouth twitched almost into a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes; smiles never did. "The Doctor."

Blue eyes turned glittery, predatory, and John murmured, "Is that so? Well then. Have you figured out a way to kill him permanent yet? I bet we could have fun trying together."

The Doctor stiffened at that and his gaze returned to Jack. "I think you need to tell me what happened, Jack."

"Why? It's not like you'll go back and fix it," Jack pointed out reasonably.

His reasonable tone made the other men in his team shift uneasily.
He continued, "It's not as if my telling you exactly how you fucked up will make any difference in the world. Any world. You won't change it. You won't do anything except let your precious Time move forward how you think it ought to be."

Jack ached to be able to put a bullet in the man's head and have it actually kill him. Talking about Earth and Torchwood always brought it up as if it had happened just the other day.

The Doctor let out an explosive breath and he said, gentle again, "It's on you, Jack. The way Earth is now, is because you left. I've gone through every timeline imaginable and in all the many ones where Earth goes off its axis, you leave her. The few where she remains whole, you've stayed. What drove you off? Why did you leave? Earth was helpless without you."

Something inside, something deep and primal and brittle with pain and rage, shattered. Jack grabbed the Doctor and swung him around, slamming him into a nearby wall. He heard the man's head crack into the metal and then drove a fist into his gut hard enough that the Doctor's air left him in a rush. He did it twice more, reveling in the feel of something breaking under his fist.

Pinning him there with an arm on his throat, Jack leaned in close and said against his ear, "You want to know what happened? My soul died. My only reason for being good was murdered by a drug dealing scum of an alien. He killed me too, but I didn't stay dead. Never do. I avenged him, though…the Four-Five-Six, otherwise known to the rest of the universe as the Crishkalla, no longer exist. I wiped them off the face of their own planet, just like they would have done Earth, if they hadn't needed the children as drugs."

The Doctor drew in ragged breaths of air, sounding almost like he was going to throw up; though whether that was from Jack's explanation or from the blows, he didn't know. Didn't even care. Cupping the Doctor's face with his free hand, Jack forced his head up so that pained brown eyes met his. They'd been allies once, lovers even, but all he could feel was rage and hate now.

Staring into those eyes, Jack whispered, "I'm not the man you left behind, Doctor. Leave, before I kill you over and over again. Consider this mercy from old times' sake, not that you deserve it."

And then he simply stepped back and let the man fall to the floor. Turning, he looked at Gajen and ordered, "If he's still here in five minutes, kill him as often as you like."

Gajen's eyebrows lifted, but he simply nodded.

Jack turned to John and hauled him in tight, clinging to him and savaging his mouth with a desperate need…the need to forget.

*  *  *  *

The Doctor staggered back to the Tardis in about four minutes and fifty seconds, closing the door on the mountain of a man who worked for Jack. He'd expected changes after two hundred years, but not a completely different man. This was the first timeline point he'd found mention of Jack Harkness, his hideout raided by inter-universal agents. Until this particular time, there'd been no sign of him, not even a whisper; something he knew was deliberate.

He took a few minutes to catch his breath, grimacing as he felt ribs scraping together. This would be where having someone around would come in handy. Wrapping one's own ribs was more pain than it was worth. Fortunately, it didn't take long for him to heal.

Punching up the viewer, he messed with the dials and brought up the four-five-six incident from various earth histories. Then he narrowed it down to actual government footage, knowing at last what he was looking for. That was when he came across a disturbing video record from a dark-haired woman who used his name, talking about how humans must make him sick and that was why he hadn't come to save them. Directly after that, he found Jack's death. He watched as the man begged for his lover's life with a need and desperation that the Doctor hadn't honestly thought him capable of. He didn't stop the tears from falling as the man, Ianto, begged Jack not to forget him.

Feeling ill in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries, the Doctor hit pause and simply looked at the two bodies on the floor, in front of the unseen alien. Jack lay draped partially over his lover, protective even in death. His heart ached for Jack's loss and he could see exactly how it would have rendered him so bitter. Ianto would have been the last in a long line of people who either died or abandoned Jack.

The Doctor grimaced a bit, knowing he was on that list, and then took a deep, steadying breath. If he was going to keep Jack on earth to put the timeline back in place, then he had to find a way to save Ianto. He'd done it many times, he'd been behind-the-scenes for centuries.

Surely he could find a way to save one man?

*  *  *  *

It was as the Four-Five-Six made its threat that Ianto heard an odd, whining-whirring noise coming from somewhere in the room. He didn't dare look around, barely able to keep his nerve in the face of the hideous alien they faced. It was only because Jack stood at his side that Ianto remained in place.

Unexpectedly, Jack whirled around at the noise and that released Ianto from remaining frozen in place. To his astonishment, a big, blue police box stood before them. One of the doors opened and the Doctor, who he'd only seen over the monitor the year before, peered out. His fine features were tight with some unnamed emotion as the dark eyes glanced briefly at him and then flickered to Jack.

"Him. In here. Now," the Doctor ordered.

Before Ianto could do more than even begin a protest, Jack grabbed him around the waist and physically hauled him over to the opening of the police box. Ianto lost his footing and was shoved ignominiously through, the door slamming shut behind him. He heard the roar of the Four-Five-Six just before the door closed, sounding betrayed, and swung back swiftly to find his way blocked by the Doctor.

Close up, Ianto felt more than a little unnerved by the intensity of the golden-brown eyes searching him; for what, he didn't know. He straightened and smoothed down his vest and shirt unconsciously before demanding, "See here, let me out this instant! I'm supposed to be with Jack for this. He needs backup."

"Oh, he needs you far more than he needs backup," the Doctor replied.

Confused, Ianto countered, "I am his backup."

The Doctor shook his head and walked by him, saying cheerfully, "Not this time."

When Ianto turned, he stopped short, shocked by the cavernous room with its column of whatever, controls maybe, in the center. He took in the golden metal hue of the room and the haphazard feel to the place and said slowly, "This is the Tardis."

The Doctor quipped, "Ten points to Ianto Jones."

Scowling, Ianto strode up the ramp after him and repeated, "You have to let me out so I can help."

"Oh, there's nothing you can help with out there. Death's taken care of it all on His own," the Doctor soberly told him.

When the Time Lord nodded at a small, fuzzy monitor, Ianto found Jack collapsing onto the floor, clearly unable to breathe, and then his eyes closed. He was dead. Ianto's stomach twisted violently and his knees buckled at the sudden shock of it. He would have fallen had the Doctor not jumped closer and caught him.

The man exclaimed, "Easy now, he'll come back, don't you worry."

Gulping in huge breaths, trying to calm down, Ianto nodded and stammered, "I know, I do, but…he's dead…right now, he's dead."

"C'mon lad, let's sit you down," the Doctor murmured, lowering him to the floor. "You and I need to be leaving for a bit."

That rallied him and Ianto pushed back to his feet, watching as deft hands pushed buttons and threw levers all around the control panel. Shaking his head, Ianto said flatly, "I can't leave him. You don't know Jack, he needs me."

Canting his head at Ianto, the Doctor informed him softly, "Oh, I know he does. That's why we're leaving until he sends the Four-Fix-Six packing."

Ianto blinked at him in surprise "Jack does that? How?"

The Doctor turned his attention back to the Tardis controls and the whole room suddenly lurched sideways, throwing Ianto into a rail. He clung to it as the world moved like a tiny ship on giant, heaving waves before finally settling down.

Once Ianto found his stomach willing to stay where it should, he pressed, "What happens? Why did you take me? And why didn't you come earlier?"

A smile quirked in his direction as the Doctor answered, "I'm not psychic. I don't always know when something goes wrong. I mean, generally yes, I do, but I didn't this time.  Originally, you died and Jack left Earth and aliens returned time and again to plunder her. Once I found out what had happened, I discovered that losing you was what turned Jack so I had to save you. Quite simple really."

Ianto gaped at him. "Are you telling me that saving me, saves the world?"

Grinning a bit, the Doctor confirmed, "I am, actually. Not to say this gets you a free pass, mind you, I'm not your guardian angel. But it's not just your death the drives him away. The combination of…well, I'll let Jack tell you what happened next. He'll need to tell someone in order to live with himself."

Was it `*your* death,' or, `your *death*?' Ianto wondered abruptly about the lack of emphasis. Did someone else die? If so, who? He prayed that it wouldn't be Gwen or Rhys.

"Live with himself about what?" Ianto demanded, frustrated with the lack of answers.

Instead of answering, the Doctor stabbed at a button and it was as if someone had stomped on a brake. Ianto was flung onto the console, gasping for the air driven from him. Forcing himself upright, Ianto drew in slow, even breaths and glared at the other. "A little warning would have been good."

The Doctor smiled a bit, amusement flickering over the fine features as he commented, "I can see why he loves you."

Remembering how he'd yet to hear those words from Jack, and their recent conversations about the subject, however oblique, he flushed. "I don't think…"

"Oh you should," the Doctor interrupted firmly. "You very much should. He loves you so much that he can't stay where you were, not even on the same planet, if you're not there. I hope you live a long, long time, Mr. Jones. Jones! Fancy that. You know Martha Jones, right? Any relation?"

Blinking at the rapid change of subject, Ianto opened his mouth to get back to the original topic only to find himself hustled back towards the door. For a slight man, the Doctor was startlingly strong. The door opened at a snap of fingers and he stumbled out onto a field under a night's sky. Looking around, he saw Cardiff spread out below and couldn't believe how peaceful it looked.

"It was good to meet you, Ianto Jones. Take care," the Doctor said from behind.

Turning, Ianto opened his mouth to protest at being left in the middle of nowhere but the door shut in his face. Pushed beyond endurance, he snapped, "This is kidnapping, Doctor!"

The Tardis was already fading from view, however, and he was left alone on a silent hilltop. Gritting his teeth, Ianto looked around for a road and then heard footsteps running at him from behind. He spun and threw his hands up defensively, but then recognized Jack coming at him. The other man didn't slow down, instead throwing his arms around Ianto and spinning him once before clinging to him.

A sense of vertigo assaulted Ianto as he listened to Jack's ragged breathing; breathing that sounded like sobs. Jack didn't cry. He never did. Belatedly, Ianto wrapped an arm around his lover and cupped the back of his head, making soothing noises as he held him.

It seemed an eternity before Jack pulled back to look at him, his gaze hungry and dazed all at once. "I thought you were dead. I thought the Doctor didn't arrive in time to save you and didn't want to face me. Oh God, Ianto, I thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry," Ianto whispered, shaken by the depth of Jack's emotion. "It's only been a few minutes since Thames House. I just left you dead on the floor."

Jack's eyes closed briefly, but he only muttered, "If he doesn't fix that damn vortex manipulator, I will shove it up his ass the next time I see him."

Silence fell between them then and Ianto felt the tension cut through him. It had been far too long since they'd had a quiet moment to do anything, even look at one another. For Jack, it had been even longer. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there, however long ago it had been. He'd lost weight, too, the great coat swimming on him.

"Ianto," Jack whispered. "Are you real, or have I lost my mind?"

Leaning forward, Ianto pressed his lips to Jack's and then whispered back, "I'm real."

It was a surprise when, instead of kissing him, Jack simply wrapped his arms around Ianto again, pressing his face into Ianto's throat. He returned the embrace, glad to be caught up in his lover again, feeling the connection between them flare to life. The love of his life, even greater than Lisa. Being held by, and holding Jack in return, could be his life's ambition. He'd be happy never to move from where they were ever again.

"Ianto! Jack!" Gwen shouted from nowhere, shock and happiness evident in her voice.

So much for never moving again, he thought wryly. Reluctant, he pulled back from Jack just in time for Gwen to slam into them both, her arms flying about Ianto's neck and holding him tight. He staggered under her unexpected weight, might have fallen, had Jack not supported them both.

Standing back a little, her hand gripping his shoulder almost painfully tight, Gwen looked at him with a beaming expression. "Oh my God, Ianto! I can't believe it! Where'd you come from? Where've you been? What happened?"

"You've had them both in a spin, you have," Rhys stated, walking up more sedately, a broad grin on his face.

Gwen rolled her eyes at him and ordered, "Shut up, you."

Ianto couldn't take his eyes off Gwen's huge belly. "Just how long have I been gone?"

"Six months," Jack answered quietly.

Ianto glanced back at him as he felt callused fingers drift over the cut on his cheek. It would scar, of course; he hadn't given it any medical attention in the chaos of the Four-Fix-Six situation. Six months, he thought, stunned. "What do my family think?"

Gwen rubbed his shoulder and told him, "Same as we all did. They had a memorial for you. It was lovely."

Ianto's brain whirled with the insanity his life had suddenly become. He'd only been gone minutes in the Tardis, but it had been half a year on Earth. Something occurred to him and he frowned at Jack. "Why are we in the middle of a field? Haven't you rebuilt Torchwood yet?"

"I think it's explanations all `round," Rhys announced practically. "C'mon, the lot of you. We'll find somewhere to eat a decent meal and catch up."

Jack nodded, taking Ianto's hand and lacing their fingers together. "That's a good idea."

Stunned at the public display, even in the middle of nowhere, Ianto's fingers curved around Jack's, the warmth of his palm seeping into his cold skin. The night air had finally penetrated and he shivered as they walked towards the car. Jack relinquished his hand only to shrug out of his coat and drape it over Ianto. He took the hand back once they'd settled in the backseat, putting his arm over Ianto's shoulders and pulling him in tight.

Astonished when Jack kissed his temple, Ianto literally couldn't think of anything to say. Words didn't seem required just yet, though. As the car started up and bumped along over the dirt road, bringing them back to Cardiff, he wondered how long this tender, well-hidden part of Jack would remain.

*  *  *  *

It was like something out of a dream; Ianto, alive and well. Jack couldn't keep his hands off the younger man, unwilling to be parted so soon for even the space across the restaurant booth. He couldn't care less about the disapproving looks from other patrons and kept bringing Ianto's hand to his mouth, kissing the back of it. He looked exactly the same as Jack remembered; not even a wrinkle on his vest or shirt that hadn't been there that terrible day. The cut across his cheek had barely scabbed over, would probably scar.

"So," Gwen began, smiling broadly. "What happened?"

Looking somewhat uncomfortable at all the attention, Ianto answered, "Not much to tell, really. Jack shoved me into the Tardis just before whatever it was that killed him, the Doctor flipped some switches on his controls, opened the door, and here I am. It was literally only a matter of minutes for me, perhaps ten or fifteen."

"Did he say anything to you about why he interfered?" Jack questioned. It was clear that the Time Lord had said something that Ianto wasn't telling.

Clearing his throat, Ianto shook his head and replied, "Nothing I'd care to repeat in public, thank you."

Jack's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "He cursed at something?"

"No, it's just…it's private," Ianto told them, flushing.

Curiouser and curiouser, Jack thought, but didn't press. He would find out the details once they were alone together. Hopefully after he'd nailed Ianto to the mattress. Repeatedly. Shifting slightly to adjust himself under the table, Jack said, knowing it was his turn, "The Four-Fix-Six released a disease into the building's atmosphere seconds after you were in the Tardis, maybe even before, I couldn't tell. Everyone died there, me included. It's why I thought, believed that you were dead, especially when you didn't come back."

Ianto's jaw flexed, his hand tightening on Jack's as he nodded. "I saw that on a monitor in the Tardis."

Taking a breath, Jack continued, "After we failed at Thames House, I sent Gwen and Rhys to your sister's to keep the children safe and wound up imprisoned for a little while."

"Again?"

Jack's lips quirked at that and he confirmed, "Again. Captain Johnson released me and we found a way to send the Four-Five-Six packing. Something to do with the frequency they used to control the children that we sent it back on them and they left."

From Ianto's expression, Jack could tell he knew there was a lot more to the story, but there was no way Jack would ruin this reunion with details. He pushed on with, "Between the footage we'd recorded previously and the new footage John's secretary took while I was locked up, England's got a whole new set of people at the top."

"Not entirely new," Gwen put in. "Madame Prime Minister was one of those at the table. God knows I didn't vote for her."

Glad that no one was going to bring up the details, Jack offered a smile and quipped, "You vote?"

The waitress arrived then with their food and, for the first time since the return of the Four-Five-Six, Jack was starving. He let go of Ianto's hand, but only because he knew Ianto would balk at trying to eat properly one-handed. Quiet descended as everyone wolfed down food, though there was some gentle teasing about Gwen's size interspersed with the bites. It was the best meal he'd had in a long time and he enjoyed seeing Ianto blush when he pushed a chip at him, making him eat it from Jack's hand.

"Oh you, leave him be," Gwen scolded.

Chuckling, Jack observed, "Always said you'd be a good mother."

She snorted. "Had plenty of practice with you lot, now, didn't I?"

The waitress came around again and asked, "Anyone for dessert?"

That familiar, incorrigible feeling bubbled up and Jack said, "Yes, but I won't be having him here."

Ianto instantly flushed and cleared his throat, bringing her attention to him where it likely would've gone unnoticed before.

Laughing, Gwen observed, "Well you're back to normal then. I think we'll be having the check now, thanks dear."

The waitress grinned a bit as she pulled a slip of paper from her apron and laid it on the table. "In your own time, then. Night, all."

Rhys paid and Jack didn't argue, instead taking Ianto's hand and leaning in to murmur, "I'll tease you much nicer when we get home," and then kissed the tender skin behind his ear before pulling back.

Ianto let out a slow breath and muttered, "God help me."

Chuckling again, Jack stood and said, "Thanks for dinner and the ride back. Gwen, we're off for at least a week. See you when we're too chapped to walk."

"Jack!" Ianto exclaimed, blue eyes wide in horror.

Jack took Ianto's hand and pulled him out from the booth, but let him hug Gwen and shake Rhys' hand before recapturing him. He tugged him out of the restaurant and flagged down a cab, wishing he had access to a car. It took too long to get one, but he wasn't complaining since Ianto stood close, letting him keep an arm over his shoulder.

In the cab, Jack had to sit a few inches away or he would wind up just jumping Ianto in the backseat. He knew there was only so much that Ianto could take in public; naked hide-n-seek in the Hub notwithstanding, the younger man was not an exhibitionist. It wasn't long before they were outside Ianto's flat. Jack hadn't been able to let it go, so all of his things were still exactly where they were that last day. Only hours ago, for Ianto.

After Jack paid the cabbie and he was unlocking the door, Ianto quietly observed, "You didn't follow protocol."

"I couldn't," Jack admitted, holding the door open for him.

Ianto looked around, frowning as he saw nothing amiss or out of place. "You kept it all the same. That's the kettle I had on."

Jack's eyebrows lifted as he questioned, "You have more than one?"

Somewhat defensive, Ianto replied, "It depends on my mood. I do like different kettles, you know."

A broad smile spread over Jack's face, happiness filling him like water into a sponge. To have Ianto right there, prissy and defensive, was all he could ask for. And then he grinned and thought, Well, not all I could ask for.

Closing the distance between them, Jack grabbed Ianto's too-neat vest and hauled him in for a hungry kiss. Ianto opened instantly to it, hands gripping Jack's shoulders as Jack's arms went around his waist, pulling him in all the more tightly. The kiss was eager, almost frantic, and went on forever. Their tongues twisted together and Jack nipped at Ianto's lips more than once as it continued, trying to provoke that sound he'd missed so badly.

It wasn't until Jack walked Ianto right into the nearest wall with a little more force than strictly necessary that he got the sound. Ianto gasped and moaned at once, and Jack breathed it all in. Pushing a knee between his lover's legs, unable to wait long enough to get to a bed, Jack undid both their pants and pulled Ianto's dick out. It filled his palm perfectly, just like before, and he stroked it slow and easy at first, just thrilling to the groans Ianto made.

His own body had come to life, his cock hard and aching, and he knew he wouldn't last. Even before the Doctor had taken Ianto to safety, it had been a good week since they'd had sex and he damn sure hadn't had any since then. Diving back into the kiss, Jack shuddered in need when Ianto's hand closed over his shaft, mirroring what Jack did to him. The stroking became pulling, moving faster and tighter. The kiss was more gasping for air than actual lip-to-lip contact as they both neared orgasm.

"Jack, oh God, Jack," Ianto groaned, coming in a couple of spurts over Jack's hand.

Jack lasted long enough to see the familiar expression of tortured pleasure on Ianto's face, the sight driving him fast over the edge. Clinging to Ianto, he jerked a few times, spilling over the elegant fingers around his dick.

They stood panting for a few minutes, faces against shoulders, and then Jack summoned enough energy to straighten up and smile at the wiped look on Ianto's face. "C'mon. Let's go wash up and go to bed."

Ianto shook his head in fond amusement. "To sleep, Jack. I'm exhausted."

Smirking, Jack answered, "Sleep. Sure. No problem."

*  *  *  *

Ianto woke in the dark of the morning with Jack curled around him. Their legs were twined together and an arm lay heavy over his waist, holding firm even in sleep. He tried to think about what it must have been like the last six months, Jack believe he was dead, but never quite sure. It reminded him of kidnapping cases where the child was never found and the parents were left in limbo.

He turned carefully and saw only the vaguest of shadows outlining Jack's profile, light from the streetlamp barely making it through the shades. His hand ghosted over the well-loved face, knowing the shape of it by heart. Jack stirred, hitching closer, his arm sliding up Ianto's back and his fingers curving around his side, but he didn't wake. The feel of him, strong and solid, was a balm to Ianto after the insanity of the last few days. He'd been positive that he wouldn't survive it, that the Four-Five-Six were too powerful.

Technically, you didn't survive, he told himself philosophically. Or, you wouldn't have, if the Doctor hadn't shown up exactly when he did. You'd be dead and Jack would've left Earth.

"What are you thinking?"

Ianto's gaze switched up to meet Jack's, a faint lighter patch in the darkness. "I would've died, Jack, and you would've left Earth. Promise me you won't, in the future. Because we know that one day, I will die. And you'll go on."

"We had this conversation," Jack evaded.

Ianto shook his head. "No, we talked around it. Just like we talked around how we felt and being a couple. I think we're past that now, don't you?"

Jack moved closer still, wrapping his arms around Ianto and maneuvering him onto his chest. Warm lips touched his temple for a long moment and then he said, "I guess we are, at that. I can't promise you anything like that, Ianto, because I just don't know. If the Doctor said I left, it wasn't just because of you, although that was a big part."

Ianto guessed slowly, "You were leaving when he brought me back."
Nodding, Jack confirmed, "Had passage booked off this planet and no intention of ever coming back."

Staying silent, Ianto rested his hand over Jack's heart and let him speak in his own time.

"I told you I had a daughter, and a grandson," Jack stated quietly. "Well, I killed him, Ianto. My own grandson was just a tool I used in order to drive away the Four-Five-Six. One child to save millions. My own flesh and blood sacrificed for the greater good. She won't even look at me anymore, won't acknowledge I exist, not that I blame her. I killed her child, her only son."

Ianto heard the guilt and anguish in Jack's voice and slid his hand over and around so that he held the other man, just a little. There were no words of comfort for such a terrible situation. Nothing he could say would ease Jack's burden and he didn't try. Instead, he kissed the nearest bare patch of skin and held him as best he could.

It took a few minutes before he heard the slight hitches in Jack's breathing, but they came. In all likelihood, no one had let him grieve for his loss. Jack was expected to be strong and in control at all times, not allowed to show weakness. Those strong arms tightened around him as Jack's breathing shifted into harsh indrawn sounds of pain. He stayed still, pliant, letting Jack take what he needed, acting as a kind of comforting talisman as the sobs finally took him, clinging to Ianto.

The storm took a long time to pass, but Ianto didn't try to hurry it along. It had been six months in the making, after all; he could spare an hour or two. When it did at last die down and Jack's hold on him loosened, Ianto squirmed up and changed their positions. He also grabbed the kerchief he kept in the bedside table and used it to gently wipe Jack's face clean. Not until then did he reach over to turn on the light.

A more woebegone Jack, Ianto had never before seen. His eyes were red-rimmed from the crying and his face still tear-stained despite the clean-up. Resting his forehead to Jack's, he murmured, "I'm so sorry, Jack, I wish I'd been able to help. I wish you hadn't gone through all of that alone."

Jack turned his face against Ianto's throat and rasped, "You're here now. Thank God, you are here now."

Wrapping his arms around Jack's shoulders, Ianto kissed the top of his head and told him, "I am and I'm not going anywhere. Get some sleep, my love. We'll deal with the rest in the morning."

Jack whispered something that might have been, `I love you,' but was too soft to make out.

Half-smiling to himself, Ianto stroked a hand over the short, soft hair and kept vigil while Jack finally, truly slept a healing sleep. There was a lot still to handle, plenty of things that needed fixing, but he would make sure that Jack was all right first.

Taking care of Jack was, after all, his primary job description; the rest could wait.