Life As We Knew It

In 1940 RAF American Volunteer Capt Jack Harkness' fell through a wall of light and found, not heaven, but a strange new world. Can he find a place with a rag tag team of spirited individuals trying to save the world, and find 'HOME' in the process?

Pairings: 1940's Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones, 1940's Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones/Cpt. Jack Harkness, Toshiko Sato/OFC, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Owen Harper/Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, mentions of non-explicit Owen/OFC/OMC, PC Andy/OFC and one other OC couple
Warnings: Angst, Explicit sexual content (explicit m/m, f/f, m/f, m/f/m, and implied m/m/m sex), language, mentions of torture, COMPLETE messing up of the CANON Torchwood Timeline (this is AU and NOT season two compliant), multi-partner relationships.
Author's Notes: 1. Thanks to Luta, Psilence and Nate for the wonderful betas. 2. Knowledge of the Doctor Who episodes "The Sound of Drums" and "Last of the Time Lords" AND the Torchwood episode "Captain Jack Harkness" is helpful in understanding this story. 3. "*" around words indicate emphasis while "( )" around words/phrases indicate words spoken in Welsh.

Life As We Knew It

Chapter One

"Should have seen it, Cooper. Bright light everywhere and our very own Captain right in the middle of it, being snogged senseless by an angel."

"Well," a second voice answered, tone light and teasing. "If anyone could tempt an angel, it'd be our Cap."

"Know a couple local birds who'd agree to that!"

Captain Jack Harkness, American head of the 133rd squadron, listened to the playful chatter, taking the good-natured teasing in stride even as his blue eyes kept a sharp lookout on the horizon. He'd been worried about the repercussions of the Kiss the Boys Goodbye dance, but his squad had, once again, surprised him. He knew the teasing acceptance wouldn't have happened back home. Maybe it was just the war, making strange bedfellows (not that he and James had, or ever would have, made it that far) a bit more... acceptable. Or maybe it was the fact that this particular "bedfellow" had walked into a mysterious light and vanished along with his companion, Miss Sato. He wasn't as convinced as Tim that the two had been "angels", but he knew they'd been something special.

"So, Captain, what's it like kissing an angel?"

"Now, George, didn't your mother teach you that a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell?" he shot back with a chuckle. The memory of James's lips had haunted his dreams during the remainder of the short night; the softness of them as they ghosted over his, the shock as the demanding, tantalizing tongue teased his lips open, thrusting deep, the exotic mix of heat and spice that exploded over his senses as their tongues met and entwined. What's it like kissing an angel? Heaven.

"Yeah. So... What's it like kissing an angel?" the cheeky bastard shot back, amusement coloring his tone.

Jack rolled his eyes, smirking at the jibe. "Tim," he called out. "Watch your formation. Keep tight," he instructed the young man who was more navigator than pilot. He knew it was only a training exercise, but the more instinctive such moves became, the more likely the boys would be to use them under fire. And he was going to give them every edge he could.

"Captain!" Cooper's frantic voice broke through his thoughts. "To your ten!"

Jack's eyes shot upward, squinting into the sun. He cursed as all too familiar shadows darted across the sky. Messerschmitts. "All right, boys," he called. "Let's do what we're trained for." He was pleased when they fell into perfect form around him, precise, calm, seasoned fliers.

The earlier banter was gone, replaced by terse commands and welcome warnings. He kept a close eye on the novice members of the squad, guarding their backs and keeping them as safe as he could. The enemy planes dropped, one by one, falling in terrifying spins trailed by smoke and flame. His own team wasn't completely unscathed, but they were all still in the air.

"CAP!"

Hot pain sliced through his leg as bullets riddled the cockpit even as he instinctively sent his plane into a controlled roll away from danger. He heard more shots hit, saw the sparks erupt from his control panel, and struggled to remain calm.

"CAP! Talk to me," his unofficial second pleaded after instructing the other members to close on the last remaining fighter.

"Get them home, George. Get our chicks home safe." He saw the fighter turning, coming back and focusing on Tim's smoking plane. "Cover Tim then *go*!" he ordered.

"No way, Cap. We've got you covered."

"That's an order, Mister!" he snapped even as he fired his own guns at the enemy. He watched as the Messerschmitt turned, deadly graceful beauty bearing down on the others even as they tried to protect him. His own plane was sluggish, her controls smoldering, the smell of scorched wires and overheating fluids slowly filling the cockpit. He had to end this, had to give his boys time to get away.

"That's when they catch you, when you least expect it."

James's words came back to haunt him even as he watched his control panel spark, the flames beginning to start. He hoped he was dead before it flared, because the thought of burning to death trapped inside his plane terrified him. His hand on the radio controls, he sent his final message. "I'm proud to have served with you, boys. Tell Nancy that I'm sorry and I wish her well." He closed off the channel abruptly, cutting off the pleas and exclamations of his squad. They were good men, and George would get them home. He missed the background chatter, the comforting voices that kept him from feeling alone. But he wouldn't let them hear him die. They wouldn't be haunted by *his* screams when they closed their eyes, not while he could prevent it.

He opened up the throttle, knowing he wasn't walking away from this one. He had to make it count. He aimed for the Messerschmitt, guns firing the whole way. James had known, had given him a little taste of Heaven and the offer of comfort before the end. Jack couldn't help but wonder if he'd be seeing his angel again on the other side. "They are going home," he growled as he fixed his eyes on the looming fighter plane. He watched as his bullets tore through the side of the plane and turned it into an inferno, but he was too close to turn cleanly, even if his plane had been in top form. He closed his eyes, bracing for impact. His body screamed in protest as the two planes collided, the nose of his Spitfire with the Messerschmitt's tail. They both went down. He struggled to control the spin as best he could, unable to simply give up, even though he knew it was futile.

Then the sky before him split open with a familiar flash of light. He smiled, relaxing even as he finally gave voice to the pain throbbing in his shattered leg. With surprising ease he shifted towards the light, aiming for the brightness even as he fell to earth. He felt himself growing weaker but held on... until his cockpit was bathed in the soothing blues and whites of the light that had taken the two angels the night before, and now welcomed him to those auspicious ranks. He closed his eyes and welcomed the end.

Chapter Two

"Tosh, I'm telling you, it's *him*," Owen growled. "How many," he quoted from the report that had sparked their current journey, "'Captain Jack Harknesses dressed in authentic 1940's RAF gear' can there *be* in Wales? Let alone this close to Cardiff?" He looked to the still unconvinced computer tech. "Look. If it's not him, what have we lost? A few hours and some petrol." He shrugged. "Seems a small price to pay on the chance of getting him back, don't you think?"

Tosh reached up and placed a hand on Owen's shoulder, squeezing slightly before settling back into her seat. "Yeah, you're right," she allowed. "But it just seems so... odd. The report says he was found beside the wreckage of a restored Spitfire. One of the farmers said it looked like it had actually been through a dogfight. What would account for that?"

Owen shrugged again. "Have to ask him when we get there, won't we?" he said with a small smirk. "After we kill him for taking off without a bloody word."

"Owen!" Gwen scolded from the front passenger's seat.

"What? Not like he'll stay dead, is it?" he countered, completely unrepentant. "Besides, might help him heal seeing as he comes back all whole and hearty afterwards."

"There will be no killing of Captain Harkness," a voice said quietly in Owen's ear, "until you're back at the HUB. There's too much paperwork involved otherwise and I *refuse* to do it for you again, Owen."

Tosh and Gwen laughed as Ianto's wry humor sounded in their headsets too.

"Har har," Owen sulked. "And I'll have you know I do my own paperwork," he smirked at Gwen's wide-eyed glance. "The *important* stuff at least."

"I'll keep that in mind when I do the next inventory and reimbursement cycles," Ianto responded easily, earning more laughter from the girls and an indignant squawk from Owen.

"All right. All right," Owen growled into the mic. "We're here. So what's the room and the doctor again?"

Information and cover story in hand, the three went to retrieve their missing Captain.

Tosh listened with half an ear as Owen spoke with the local doctor who was treating Jack. Amnesia, broken ribs, a shattered left leg, minor burns on his arms and hands, and an assortment of other cuts and bruises, all of which would heal given time. Apparently he'd known his name, but that was it. Tosh couldn't help but wonder just how much of that "amnesia" was just Jack keeping quiet until he was sure exactly where the Rift had left him. Well, they'd find out soon enough, as the doctor ushered them into the private room of "Captain Jack Harkness".

But the blue eyes that greeted them weren't the blue eyes that any of them had expected, and only Tosh recognized them.

The handsome face broke into a stunned smile. "Miss Sato," the injured 1940's pilot exclaimed, reaching out a bandaged hand towards her. "You'll forgive me for not rising in the presence of the ladies," he added with a self-deprecating smile.

Tosh stepped around the stunned Owen and moved to the soldier's bedside, carefully taking his hand. "I think I can forgive you this once, Jack." She leaned in as if to place a kiss on his cheek. "Trust me," she whispered.

"Of course," he responded back just as quietly.

Chapter Three

"Go home, Teaboy," Owen said, emerging from the shadows, moving around to join Ianto on the battered couch in the Hub's unofficial gathering area. The lights were dim and the Hub quiet, the girls having gone home hours before. Owen carefully watched the youngest member of their team, waiting for the inevitable argument.

Ianto didn't even look up from his forms, continuing to fill them in with his carefully precise script. "I could say the same to you, Dr. Harper." Signing his name to the form he set down the pen and leaned back heavily, sighing and closing his eyes as his dark curls came to rest on the couch's back. "How is our... guest?" he asked quietly.

"Finally sleeping," Owen answered just as quietly. He reached out and snagged Ianto's coffee cup from the table and took a deep sip, ignoring the scowl the move earned him. "Treated the burns with that cream you suggested and they're all but gone now. The ribs are responding nicely to the Regenerator and should be completely healed in another few days. The leg, though, is gonna take some serious work and therapy even with the Regen unit. But, if he works at it and follows doctor's orders, he should come out without even a noticeable limp. So, all and all, he's just fine for some 1940's flyboy who's managed to get himself thrown through a temporal rift into the 21st century." He took another long swallow of his stolen coffee.

"Would you like me to fetch you a fresh cup, Owen?" Ianto asked dryly, blue eyes locked on Owen's face.

"Nah. I'm good," Owen teased, a slight smile gracing his thin lips. "You all right, mate?" he asked sincerely. While he and Ianto might never see eye to eye on a lot of things, they'd managed to form an unlikely bond after the disappearance of their enigmatic leader.

Ianto looked down at his hands a moment, willing them to relax. "I've asked Tosh to put together a file on our guest, as she knows more about him than the rest of us. She said she'd have something tomorrow afternoon. I thought we'd order an early dinner and discuss our options then." He stole back his coffee cup, made a show of turning it around so he was drinking from the opposite side that Owen had, and finished off the last of the lukewarm liquid. "If that's acceptable." He paused and offered Owen a sly smirk. "Sir."

"Cheeky bastard," Owen countered, rolling his eyes at the younger man. "Guess we've figured out who *really* ran the show round here." He smirked back at Ianto, the familiar banter relaxing them both. He'd not press about the less than subtle misdirection, at least not at the moment. Ianto would need to talk at some point and they'd be there to listen, whichever of the team he turned to.

They'd come to rely on each other a lot since Jack's disappearance, but Owen could feel the frayed cord that held them all together slowly tearing apart. He couldn't help but wonder which of them would be the first to break. "Chinese take-away and battle plans tomorrow, then." He slapped his hands down on his thighs then levered himself off the couch. "Let's set it up here, less formal, it'll keep Toshy calmer. God *knows* we need all the help we can get when she gets started with her scientific theorizing."

Ianto nodded, jotting a quick note down on a notepad he pulled from beneath the pile of forms. "Very good. The usual?" he asked, getting a distracted nod in response. "And should I find out what our guest would like?"

"Soup," Owen answered quickly. "He's on soup for a while yet. I'll see if he has a preference when I check on him in the morning and let you know."

Ianto gave Owen a small, grateful smile.

"Go home, Ianto," Owen said gently. "Or to Tosh's or... somewhere. Get out of here for a while. Doctor's orders."

Ianto nodded slowly, sighing wearily as he gathered up his papers and headed back to the visitor's center. Owen watched him go, letting the concern finally show in his eyes. "Damn you, Jack Harkness," he whispered into the dark. "Or whoever the hell you really were."

Decimated take-away containers littered the low coffee table.

"So," Owen said, his feet propped on said coffee table and a plate of lo-mien balanced precariously on his lap. "What Jack, our Jack," he amended with a grimace, "told Tosh about this Jack all checks out. Disappeared right after the dance that our two travelers crashed." He grinned at Tosh who rolled her eyes at him. "Going down in a smoking plane and ending up 'missing, presumed dead' until he showed back up in London several months later. Which, as far as we can tell, was *our* Jack taking over what he assumed was the identity of a dead man."

"And since we can, to an extent, track our Jack from then on," Tosh pointed out, gesturing with her chopsticks, "we don't need to worry about the whole paradox factor because *this* Jack actually did leave his timeline at that point."

Gwen leaned her head back to look up at Tosh from her place on the floor. "I'll take your word for that." She grinned and shook her head. "Because that whole 'meeting yourself and making the world explode' still makes my *head* explode."

"We discovered at Torchwood One that such meetings had detrimental consequences," Ianto patiently interjected, forestalling Tosh's technical explanation of temporal instability and crossed time-lines. "And if something as simple as a cockroach meeting itself after a minute jump in time can destroy an entire testing lab," he paused for effect, looking his teammate in the eyes, "I'd rather not experience the energy displacement caused by a full-grown male."

Gwen blinked, her brown eyes wide. "Point taken."

"Quit scaring the girls, Teaboy." Owen pointed his fork at Tosh. "So, we don't have to worry about how to get him back *through* the Rift at least?" Tosh nodded. "That leaves us with what to do with him."

"Credentials are easily enough taken care of," Ianto reminded. "We'll just need to see what skills he has and where he can be established."

"And we'll need to look at a name," Tosh added. At the blank looks she sighed. "It's not like he can keep being called Jack Harkness," she pointed out. "Too many people know *our* Jack as 'Jack Harkness'. So after everything else, he's going to have to lose his name as well." Gwen reached out and squeezed the other woman's hand in silent support. "Doesn't seem fair."

"Life's rarely fair, especially when the damned Rift's involved," Owen shot back. He shrugged. "From what I can tell, our guest is pretty adaptable. He'll do fine."

"Think anyone would notice if we set him up here?" Gwen said with a small smile. "Be easier than finding excuses for why Jack's not available. A 'Jack Harkness' would be in the Hub, but indisposed after an accident. They don't need to know it isn't the original Jack... or our Jack... or however that works." She looked up at Tosh again. "Still makes my head hurt," she teased with a grin.

"Sounds a bit too 'Dread Pirate Roberts' to me," Owen groused around a mouthful of noodles. The sudden silence had him looking at the other team members suspiciously. "What?"

Gwen was the first to break the silence. "Did you just quote 'The Princess Bride'?" the stunned disbelief evident in her voice.

Owen blinked, running back through what he'd said and fighting hard to keep the blush from rising in his face. "Well, some bird I was dating liked it. Cost me dinner and sitting through that romantic tripe to find out what her bedroom looked like."

Tosh giggled, bumping her leg against Gwen and winking at the other woman. "Oh come on, Owen. We're all friends here," she teased. "Besides, you know it's on your Guilty Pleasures shelf hidden between 'Girls Gone Wild Three' and 'Naughty Schoolboys'."

"Not another word, Toshy," Owen growled, pointing at her with his fork and scowling, "or I'll spill about what you keep in that box under your bed."

"Would that be the box with the harness or the one with the floggers, Owen?" Ianto asked mildly without looking up from his plate.

Tosh's eyes grew wide as Gwen dissolved into helpless laughter and Owen gaped at the still calm Ianto.

"Ianto Jones!" Tosh scolded. "That was to be our little secret."

"I'm sorry," Ianto said contritely, looking up demurely at her from under his long lashes. "Mistress."

Owen choked on his swallow of soda, prompting the wide-eyed Gwen to shift over, stretching up to carefully pound him on the back. Only after he took a wheezing breath and wiped at his eyes did Ianto and Tosh's control break, both breaking into conspiratorial giggles. Tosh threw her napkin at Ianto. "Warn me before you do something like that!" she gasped. Ianto shrugged, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as he nodded at Tosh and smirked at Owen.

Owen shook his head. He tilted his glass of soda in Ianto's direction, acknowledging the hit graciously and silently promising retribution when the young Welshman least expected it. Ianto nodded, smile widening just a fraction before being hidden behind his coffee cup. The girls' laughter echoed around the quiet expanse of the Hub, lightening the lingering shadows for at least a moment.

"All right, all right," Owen snapped playfully. "Enough laughter at the *leader's* expense." He glared good-naturedly at Tosh and Ianto, adding Gwen into the scowl when she had trouble getting her own giggles under control. "This still doesn't answer the question of what to call our guest to keep confusion to a minimum."

"My father's name was Jonathan, and everyone called him Jack," a soft, unexpected voice said from behind them. "They gave me the name so there'd still be a 'Jack' in the family after he passed." The figure moved from the shadows, balanced precariously on crutches. He moved toward them even as Toshiko and Owen rose to assist him. He smiled, nodding his thanks and accepting Owen's assistance to the couch, where he sank down wearily, stretching out his metal encased leg before him.

"You shouldn't be out of bed," Owen chided, shifting things out of the way so he could lift Jack's leg onto the cluttered coffee table.

The pilot shrugged. "I was bored. I heard the laughter and thought I might..." He looked down at his trembling hands. "Damn it. I'm not used to doing nothing," he complained, eyes meeting Toshiko's. "Besides," he said defiantly, "I'd prefer to have at least *some* say in my future, if you don't mind." His eyes locked with Owen's. "Jonathan, in memory of my father," he stated firmly. "Jonathan Jackson Harker." He dared the other man to say anything.

"Jonathan Harker, the Englishman who fought Count Dracula," Ianto confirmed quietly.

Jack nodded. "Seemed appropriate," the pilot said with a lopsided smile at Ianto. "He was a man thrown into an unexpected and unknown place, faced with creatures and situations beyond his understanding, who had to adapt to not only survive, but to protect those he cared for." He smiled at Toshiko, taking her offered hand and squeezing it lightly.

Tosh settled on the arm of the couch beside the pilot. "Very appropriate," she said, squeezing the large hand with her own. "And you *will* adapt," she promised with a smile, "and we're all here to help you."

"Thank you, Miss Sato," he answered with a relieved smile. He looked around at the others. "So, what else do you need to know?"

Owen carefully watched his patient as they worked out John, formerly Jack's, new background. Gwen and Tosh had quickly warmed to the pilot, taken in by his quiet, old school charm and easy smile. Ianto, on the other hand, was carefully professional, giving only the smallest of half-hearted smiles when the conversation, or one of the girls, demanded it. He kept his attention carefully on his papers, taking notes and asking pertinent questions but staying silent the remainder of the time. Owen made a mental note to keep an eye on the Welshman until things settled down.

The second jaw-breaking yawn in five minutes from John had Owen calling an end to the evening. "All right, people," he said, standing and stretching. "Time to call it." He looked at the gathered team. "Go home." He turned to John and held out his hand. "And let's go get you settled back in. I'll want to double check that leg and make sure your early stroll didn't set its healing back too far."

The fair face flushed even as the pilot struggled to extricate himself from the couch. "Considering that in my time, I most likely wouldn't even still have a leg," he said seriously, his eyes on Owen's face as he shrugged. "Besides, a little more physical therapy is a small price to pay for several hours of actual conversation." He smiled up at Tosh, patting her arm.

"All right, stop flirting and give me a hand here," Owen teased Tosh, who blushed but offered her arm anyway.

"What about Mr. Jones?" John asked, looking around behind Toshiko for the young man. "Surely he'd be better suited to assisting in this." He caught Toshiko's look and had the decency to blush. "Not that you're not capable, Miss Sato," he quickly reassured.

Tosh smiled and patted his arm. "No offense taken, Captain," she offered honestly. "It's actually rather sweet." She helped Owen assist John up off the couch, offering her arm for the handsome man to balance with. "And you'll have to be patient with Ianto. It's not been an easy few months for him. Please don't take it personally."

John settled the crutches and began picking his way carefully through the obstacle course of the main Hub area. "He was close to James," he paused, smiling ruefully, "to Jack," he corrected.

Owen chuckled mirthlessly. "You could say that."

"Owen," Tosh cautioned.

John looked between the two a moment before nodding. "Your Jack seems to have that affect on a lot of people," he answered noncommittally. "Please tell Mr. Jones that I'm sorry if I make him uncomfortable."

"Teaboy will manage in his own time," Owen commented absently as he steadied John when the taller man stumbled. "He always does."

"Teaboy?"

"A hateful nickname that Owen insists on calling Ianto," Tosh answered with a scowl at Owen. "And as you could see tonight he's much more than just someone to pick up after Owen and make coffee for the team."

John's brow furrowed, thinking over the tidbit of information about the silent young man even as he concentrated on his footing. He kept his own council as they moved slowly through the concrete and steel corridors. He was shaking with fatigue by the time they reached the small room he'd been given on his arrival, and he was grateful for Owen's strong arm around his waist as he lowered himself to the bed. He allowed Owen to ease the dark blue dressing gown off his shoulders, leaving him in a borrowed undershirt and thin sleep trousers with one leg cut off to make room for the metal contraption around his injured leg. He blushed as he realized that Miss Sato was still standing in the room and staring intently at his bare leg under its covering of bars and wires.

"Breathe," Owen snapped at John. "Nothing she's not seen before. Besides, she's our alien tech girl, and I need a second opinion on these readings."

Tosh smiled at John reassuringly. "It's all right," she soothed, "I promise not to look anywhere I oughtn't." She smiled once more then went back to her careful examination of the piece Owen was pointing to. After a few minutes of discussion and a small adjustment, both seemed satisfied. "Okay, I should head out then and let you sleep," she said softly, tucking the blanket up around his chest.

He reached out and took her hand. "I know it's highly improper, but would you mind... staying?" he asked hesitantly. He looked at Owen beseechingly. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

Owen shook his head, his amusement clear on his thin lips. "She's a big girl and you're not in any condition to force anything on anyone." He shrugged, looking at Tosh. "Just don't keep him up all night. He's gonna be starting PT tomorrow."

She settled into a chair beside John's bed, taking his hand in hers. "Yes, Owen," she answered, rolling her eyes at him. She waited until Owen left them alone before turning to look at John. "So how are you *really*?" she asked quietly.

John chuckled. "Quietly going mad?" he offered with a lopsided smile. His fingers tightened around Toshiko's. "I thought I was dead, or that I would be soon enough. I just aimed for the light that had taken you and James and prayed that I'd be gone before the flames engulfed me."

Tosh wrapped both her hands around his. "But you're not dead, and you *will* manage here. Promise."

He nodded, clearly uncertain. "When I woke up, I knew I wasn't anywhere *I* knew. I almost gave name, rank and serial number but since the medics weren't in uniforms I decided to err on the side of caution. I'm glad I did. Think they'd probably have locked me up with the feeble-minded otherwise."

"We'd have come for you," she reassured.

"No," he countered. "You'd have come for *him*. I just got lucky." He looked into Toshiko's eyes. "I'm a country boy and a flier, Miss Sato," he confided, his voice little more than a whisper. "And I'm sixty years out of date, at least. The world is so different from what I knew and I'm," he paused, staring at Toshiko earnestly. "I'm going to be a risk, Toshiko. A risk and a detriment with no useful skills and even fewer prospects. I listened to your questions this evening and realized that I'm completely out of my depths here. Even *if* this leg heals properly, what kind of jobs could I even begin to think about doing? I don't know the first thing about anything yet I'll need to find some way to make a living."

He shook his head. "And I don't even want to think about trying to fit in. It'll be even worse than training how to behave behind enemy lines to keep from getting caught. At least then, the world was pretty much the same and if you kept your head..." He stopped, pushing back the panic he could feel building in his chest. "I'm absolutely terrified."

Tosh reached out, brushing a lock of light brown hair off the soldier's face. "It's all right to be scared," she answered. "I was too when we ended up in a dancehall in 1940 Cardiff. Luckily, I had someone to help me through it, someone to lean on who knew *how* to fit in." She smiled at John. "And you've got four of us to help you."

He returned her smile with a slightly shakier one. "I guess I do, don't I?" He squeezed her hand, gratitude clear in his weary gaze. "Thank you," he whispered, drawing her hand to his lips and kissing the back of it lightly. "So. Think you could show me how to work that quiet metal typewriter you were working on earlier? Believe it or not, I can type and if nothing else, maybe I could fill out reports and such while I'm stuck here."

Tosh's smile brightened. "Owen would *love* you," she confided with a grin. "I'll be down in the morning with my laptop to show you how to work it. And it's more than just a typewriter," she added enthusiastically, her mind already going through things to show him and websites to point him towards. "It's a whole world of information, literally at your fingertips. You're going to love it. Or be overwhelmed," she added with a concerned look. "We'll work on it. Promise."

He had to laugh at her enthusiasm even as another yawn threatened to dislocate his jaw with its intensity.

"Oh. You need to rest," she said sadly. "I should go..."

"Please stay," he whispered. "At least until I fall asleep. It's so... quiet here."

Tosh nodded. "I can do that." She slowly stroked her fingers over the back of his hand, watching as his eyelids finally fluttered closed.

Chapter Four

"Stubborn, hard-headed, idiotic." Owen's litany continued as he carefully worked on the cramping muscles in John's injured leg. "Thought I told you not to force this," he finally growled *at* his patient. "I limited the amount of rehab exercises for a reason. The healing cage regenerates the tissues, but it takes time to rebuild the *strength* in those tissues. And if you put too much stress on the fragile tissues," he looked into the soldier's pained blue eyes, "they tear and cramp and *don't* build up strength. I thought we'd *had* this discussion, but apparently I had it with some *other* idiotic, 1940's flyboy who swore he'd take it easy."

He finished with the deep massage, the muscles finally relaxing under his fingers. He reattached the full regen-cage and reset the healing cycle. "Because honestly, if it had been with you, you wouldn't have forced your exercises to the point of *INJURING* yourself," he finished with a frustrated shout.

John had the decency to look chagrined. "It didn't seem to be too much strain. And considering that in my time I wouldn't have even had a leg to work on." He shrugged.

"Keep pulling stupid stunts like this one," Owen snapped back, "and you may *still* end up without a leg to use."

"Would it mean I'd be able to be up and useful to you all?" he countered. "Then it would be worth it." His eyes flashed defiance, daring the doctor to push the issue further.

"Don't make me have to sedate you," Owen said tiredly. "I really don't want to have to sedate you." He sat heavily in the chair beside the man's bed, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Why can't you lot seem to understand I tell you things for a reason?" he complained. "Oh no, you have to question and argue and end up getting yourself hurt, and I get stuck putting you back together." He sighed, leaning back in the chair, exhausted.

"How long since you've actually slept, Dr. Harper?" he asked sympathetically.

Owen's snort of laughter, slumped shoulders and ashen pallor answered eloquently for him.

"Thought so. If you're exhausted," he pointed out gently, "you're not doing your team any good. Even commanders need a break."

Owen laughed again. "Not a commander though, am I? Just the idiot who got stuck with the job when Jack up and hared off without a word. Not that anyone *else* wanted it, mind, but God forbid they listen to the one who took it. Oh no. Have to argue every decision. Teaboy won't go the hell home and sleep unless he's threatened with sedation. Gwen's decided she doesn't need to listen to *anyone* out in the field. Never mind that I was trying to keep the silly bint from getting *hurt* when I told her to stay back. Dealt with the Talendeanns before and they'll go for a woman every single time!" He shivered, remembering the heart-stopping sight of Gwen flying through the air after the belligerent alien took exception to being addressed by a 'walking breed tank'.

"Least Toshy still listens, even if she spends all her spare time either down here with you or logged into the CCTV archive footage trying to get a better picture of who Jack left with," he muttered, his eyes closed as he tried unsuccessfully to ward off his building headache.

"Is Ms. Cooper going to be all right?" John asked cautiously.

"Yeah," he answered, not bothering to open his eyes. "She'll be fine, but she'll have bruises she'll have to lie to Rhys about." Owen grimaced, remembering her hissed accusations that he'd somehow wanted to cause her problems at home. Just because their relationship soured after Jack's departure, didn't mean he wanted her to lose what happiness she had. While Mr. Domestic might not make the earth move every time, at least he was there to keep her warm at night. She should bloody well be grateful for that.

"Oh," John answered, not quite sure why she would have to lie to anyone about her injuries. He made a mental note to ask Toshiko if there was a rule against such disclosures. It wouldn't make sense, it wasn't as if she had to tell this Rhys anything beyond being injured in the line of duty. Perhaps this Rhys had issue with Ms. Cooper working.

He watched as Dr. Harper's lanky body slowly relaxed in the chair's embrace, the pinched expression slowly evening out in sleep. He looked very young when he slept. John resisted the urge to struggle out of bed and cover the other man with a blanket, afraid his traitorous leg would buckle and send him to the floor. He wouldn't add to the young commander's troubles by being one who 'wouldn't listen'.

He reached out and grabbed the lightweight typewr... *laptop* he mentally corrected, that Toshiko had been teaching him to use. He typed a few lines into the messaging system she'd set up between them, letting her know where Dr. Harper was and asking her to keep the others away for a while to let him sleep. She agreed and, making sure there was nothing else either of the men needed, signed off. Perhaps it was a bit heavy handed on his part, but looking at the dark circles under Dr. Harper's eyes, he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Chapter Five

John leaned heavily on the cane Owen insisted he still needed. If it meant not going back to the crutches, he'd gladly use the unattractive metal contraption. If it was discovered he'd need the cane for much longer, he'd ask Toshiko to take him shopping for a more distinguished looking one. He wondered if people still used the simple but stylish wooden and silver canes like his grandfather had used. If not, he'd trust either Toshiko or Miss Gwen to help him find one on that odd auction house they always spoke of.

"Toshiko?" he called out as he made his way up the ramp to the main level. "I'm afraid I need your help again."

He was met by the sounds of the Hub, the sounds he was becoming intimately familiar with in the still of the morning hours. He didn't mind the quiet of the Hub, but it would be nice to be back in an apartment or home again. As soon as his leg healed enough to be *without* the alien healing cage, and wouldn't old Doc Witton back home have *loved* the thing, he would be free to move out of the Hub. Hopefully only another few weeks... *if* he didn't overdo. And using his cane, rather than his crutches to walk up the single, gently sloping ramp to the main part of the Hub was *not* over doing it. At least, not as long as he was careful... and Owen didn't catch him.

The lights were still up, so the primary team hadn't left for the day, at least. It was still odd for him that there were only four members manning the Hub and that each night one stayed on site to monitor the machines. He would have thought such an important outpost would have warranted more personnel, but the suggestion had been met by a derisive snort from Owen and a long, convoluted explanation about secrecy and the Cold War and international tensions from Miss Gwen. Toshiko had simply nodded, agreed, and shrugged. He doubted he would ever understand that particular aspect of this new time. Surely an international threat should be met by an international force. Had they learned nothing from World War II about finding strength while facing a common enemy?

"Toshiko?" he called out again, moving slowly towards the young woman's workstation.

"I'm sorry, sir," a quiet voice sounded from behind her computer. "I'm afraid Tosh is out with the team on a call. Is there something I might be able to assist you with in the meantime?"

He studied the young man who regarded him with a carefully neutral expression. Of all the team members, Ianto Jones was the one he knew the least about, and the one who intrigued him the most. But he knew why Mr. Jones avoided him, or he suspected at least. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd fallen for Jam... *Jack's* charms only to be left behind. It was... awkward, but John liked the young man and honestly hoped in time Mr. Jones would warm up to him. It would be nice to have someone to talk to about the whirlwind that was the absent Mr. Harp... that was Jack. He sighed, wondering if he'd ever adjust to thinking of James Harper as Jack Harkness and of himself as Jonathan Harker.

"Sir?" the young man asked again. "Did you require assistance?"

He felt his cheeks heating under the concerned gaze. "Maybe?" he said uncertainly. "I'm afraid I've managed to foul up that... laptop that Toshiko gave me. It's asking for something and," he said with an embarrassed smile, "after last time I'm afraid to touch anything."

Ianto actually smiled. Granted, it was only a small, half-smile, but John was willing to take it as a victory nonetheless. "We managed to recover everything," the young man reminded him.

"After three hours of working on it," he countered, still frustrated at the amount of wasted time he'd cost them in their already full schedules. "And even then Toshiko had to spend another hour showing me what I'd done wrong and how to correct all the... crazy symbols that had appeared in the middle of things."

"But she *did* show you and you've done quite well since then," Ianto reassured as he typed something into his own computer terminal and moved down the steps to John's side. "Shall we?" he asked, making a small motion towards the way John had just come.

John nodded and moved carefully down the ramp, making sure to place the cane carefully with each step. Even then, his injured leg shook on one particularly uneven bit of concrete and only a quick catch by the Welshman kept him from falling flat on his face.

"I'll keep your little jaunt just between us," Ianto said softly as he wrapped a supporting arm around John's waist.

"I'd appreciate that," John conceded, gladly leaning on the offered support. The young man was surprisingly strong under the loose-fitting suits, his arm a solid comfort and balance that John was grateful for as they maneuvered the last few steps back into his rooms. He settled behind the desk and carefully turned the small computer toward the other man, letting him see the box and its questions. The handsome face broke into a soft smile that took John's breath away.

"Easily fixed, Sir," Ianto reassured. He pointed to the laptop. "May I?"

John nodded, not trusting his voice. He watched as the young man pulled up a chair and settled into it, his long fingers flying over the keys. Blue eyes flickered over the screen; quickly reading whatever new statement appeared before tapping out another answer. The pink lips parted and a darker pink tongue emerged *just* far enough to capture John's eyes, drawing them to the young man's mouth.

He felt a disturbingly familiar longing settle in his chest... and lower. He wondered what it was about the men of this time, or maybe it was just *these* men, the Torchwood men. He thought about it a moment, thinking on Owen and the few others he'd met during his short stay in the hospital. No, only Jame... Jack and *this* young man made him react like this. There'd been a few back home he'd felt a similar, smaller pull towards, and a few in the service, even if he'd never acted on those feelings until he took a risk and danced with an angel.

"Is something wrong, Sir?"

The soft Welsh vowels pulled him from his introspection and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he realized he'd been caught staring. "I'm afraid you caught me wool gathering," he answered with a rueful smile. "Sorry." He took a deep, cleansing breath, trying to ignore the effect the subtle scent of Ianto's aftershave had on him. "So have I managed to completely destroy it again?" he asked, redirecting the young man's far too knowing gaze.

"No, Sir," the young man answered with a knowing smile. "Simply an update that was needed. Easily fixed." He turned the laptop back towards John. "If you'd like, I could show you how to deal with it yourself next time."

John blinked at the offer. "Of course," he answered quickly, anything to make him less of a bother to them was something he'd *eagerly* learn.

Ianto moved closer, leaning in to point out the various objects and commands he was referring to. John did his best to concentrate on the lesson and ignore the rather embarrassing effect the young man's proximity was having on him. He was *mostly* successful. He watched the young man's actions carefully, committing the patterns and responses to memory and then repeating them to make sure he understood. The smile Ianto gave him in response was well worth any discomfort.

"When was your last painkiller, Sir?" Ianto asked, his shrewd blue eyes studying John intently.

"I... Don't rightly remember," John answered, genuinely puzzled by the question. "Why?"

Ianto didn't answer. He went to the small medicine cabinet and shook out two of John's painkillers and returned with them and a glass of water.

John almost refused them, until he shifted in the chair and pain shot up his injured leg. He shook his head in amazement, accepting and swallowing the pills without protest. He sipped the chilled water as he regarded the enigmatic young man before him. "How'd ya know..."

"Your accent, Sir," Ianto answered quietly, seeming almost embarrassed by the situation. "It becomes more prominent when you're in pain."

John chuckled, shaking his head at the logical explanation. "Old Preston would have given his eye-teeth for someone like you."

It was Ianto's turn to look confused. "Sir?"

John could almost see the young man's mind going over what he knew of John, trying to place the name. Yeah, Preston would have loved this angel-faced boy. "Preston Smythe, head of a forming Infiltration Unit when I first came over to volunteer. Tried to coax me out of the sky because of my 'demm'd fine memory skills'." He smiled at the memory. "Never did manage to get my head out of those clouds though," he confided with a playful wink.

"Watching you around here, Old Preston would never have given up trying to recruit you. The way you manage, blending in so quietly a body might forget you were even there... right up until they needed something. Keeping the rest of them focused and headed in the same direction with such a subtle touch I doubt they even realize just how indispensable you are to them now." He studied the suddenly distant and completely 'professional' young man. "Is there anything you *don't* do around here, Mr. Jones?" he asked, honestly curious.

"Autopsies and Owen's paperwork," was the immediate and even reply.

John stopped, blinked in surprise, then began laughing, shaking his head as he watched a small smile pull at the young man's lips. "That's exactly what I'm talking about," he said, urging the young man to sit down again. "Right reaction at just the right time to set people at ease. It's a hell of a talent, Mr. Jones. Not everyone finds it so easy to seamlessly fit in." He looked down at his hands, trying to find a way to ask yet one more favor from the young man who was still so cautious around him. "Do you think it's something you could teach someone else to do?" he asked softly, not looking up from the study of his own lightly scarred hands. "At least, to do it well enough to get by out there?" he gestured to the Hub and the rest of the world outside the confines of John's borrowed room.

Ianto finally took the offered chair, studying the older man, taking in his obvious nervousness. He thought back on the others he'd dealt with at Torchwood who were out of their own times, away from anything *familiar* and tried to put himself in their... in *John's* place. He took a steadying breath. "I would be willing to *try*, Sir," he answered, clearly surprising them both.

Chapter Six

Owen looked closely at the x-ray, ignoring the three sets of eyes locked on him, waiting for his verdict. He turned and made a few notations on the open file, carefully comparing the earlier results with the current ones. He nodded, humming to himself as he dated and signed the newest entries.

Gwen's hand impacted his shoulder, sending the pen scrawling across the page. He turned slowly, schooling his features into a disgruntled scowl. "*You* get to explain that to the Teaboy," he said evenly.

Gwen matched him scowl for scowl. "And you'll get to explain how you ended up locked in one of the supply cupboards if you don't get on with it," she snapped back.

"Miss Cooper," John calmly intervened. "I'm sure Dr. Harper is working as quickly..."

"No," Toshiko contradicted with a soft smile at the older man. "He's not. He's being a prat just because he can be." She patted John's hand. "Up until now, he's been on his best behavior with you. *This*," she said with a sweet smile at Owen, "is how he is with the rest of us."

"Yeah yeah," Owen interrupted bruskly. "Anyway," he scowled at the two women who were completely unmoved. He sighed and turned back to his waiting patient. "The results look good." He met John's eyes, his expression serious. "You'll still need to do those strengthening exercises like we discussed. The Unit repaired the damage, but the new muscles still need time to build back up to full."

John nodded his understanding, holding up the paper with said exercises and the schedule for the same.

"And," Owen continued. "You'll need to use the cane a bit longer, until those muscles are 100%. And there may be time even after that when you'll need to use it if you've been on your feet for a bit, or are overly tired."

John sighed, looking at the unattractive metal contraption he'd been using around the Hub. He looked over at Toshiko. "Would you help me find one a bit more..." He grimaced at his current cane.

Toshiko smiled, squeezing his hand. "Of course I will. We'll talk to Ianto when he gets back, see if he has any ideas where to begin looking for a smart looking walking stick."

"No overdoing it," Owen snapped, looking pointedly at Toshiko. "No dragging him off all over Cardiff looking for the perfect thing," he cautioned. He pointed at John. "And *don't* think I don't know about you pushing your luck already. I know what you've been up to when you think I'm not around to find out. Just because the Unit is *finally* off does *not* mean that you're free to go traipsing around for hours on end."

John had the decency to look chagrined. "Yes, sir," he answered meekly, a wry smile touching his lips. "So, I suppose I should be looking at places to stay then," he said contemplatively. He was unprepared for the reaction his statement caused.

Owen's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why? Not like we're kicking you out just cause the alien tech's loose."

He shrugged. "The only reason I was here this long was because the tech needed to stay out of sight, correct?"

Owen nodded slowly. "But..."

"So now that it's gone, I should spend some time using some of those 'fitting in' skills that you've all been helping me with." It made perfect sense to him. He'd not expected to live in his rooms at the Hub indefinitely. While it was a bit... daunting to think of trying to make a way for himself outside of the security of the Hub, he felt he could manage.

"John, there's no need..."

"No one expects you..."

The girls' voices tumbled over each other and he smiled at them in gratitude. "Ladies, I'll be fine. Besides, you can't begin to tell me that this is what you normally do for those blown through that great gash in time. I *know* it isn't. I've seen the procedures manual. I should have been moved as soon as possible."

"And 'as soon as possible' is worth a few more weeks at *least*," Owen countered. "Not like this is exactly a normal circumstance, is it?"

"Maybe not," John countered calmly, still confused by the others' reactions. "But it doesn't change the fact I'll have to do so eventually."

"You could come stay with me, if you'd like," Toshiko offered softly. "I've got extra room and it would give you a chance to get use to the strangeness with someone who'd understand and be able to help you make sense of things." She smiled at him. "And you wouldn't be *quite* so on your own."

The older man blushed. "I... I appreciate the offer," he stammered. "But it just wouldn't be," he struggled for the correct word, "proper for me to stay with such a lovely but *single* young woman."

Owen snorted. Gwen smacked him again, eyes widening in censure.

Tosh scowled at them both before turning back to John with a soft, understanding smile. "It's not like that now, John," she reassured. "You wouldn't be ruining my reputation."

"Be improving it if anythi... *ow*!" Owen glared at Gwen, rubbing his bruising arm and moving so a table stood between them.

"I'd offer," Gwen said apologetically. "But between the stairs and trying to explain it to Rhys..." She trailed off apologetically, looking pointedly at Owen.

"Too many stairs," he offered, looking away from the girls' surprised expressions. "Already thought about it," he mumbled. He looked up at John, meeting the sympathetic and understanding eyes. "Sorry," he shrugged, out of easy ideas, "Looks like you're stuck with us a bit longer."

John thought he didn't look sorry at all, and neither did the girls.

"He can stay with me," came an offer from the doorway.

All heads turned to look at the young Welshman moving silently into their midst laden with takeout containers.

Ianto raised a challenging eyebrow, as if *daring* anyone to naysay his offer as he calmly set the food on the table. He handed John a box and a fork. "Eat before it gets cold, Sir," he said with a small grin, amused by the stunned looks from his teammates.

Owen whistled as he followed Ianto through the front door of the small cottage home. "Very nice, Teaboy. I'm impressed."

Ianto rolled his eyes, closing the door behind them and taking the time to hang up his coat while Owen prowled around the spotless living room. He ignored the other man, letting Owen look his fill. He had nothing to hide. He headed for the sanctuary of the kitchen, settling into the comfortable routine of making coffee, sighing at the minute tremble in his hand that caused the water in the carafe to slosh over as he poured.

He knew Owen had returned and was watching him. He carefully ignored him, focusing on preparing two large mugs for the coffee. He inhaled the rich aroma of the brewing coffee, letting the comfortingly familiar scent center him before finally turning to face his co-worker and unlikely friend. His face carefully neutral, he leaned against the counter, matching Owen's 'too studied to be *truly* casual' stance. "Will it be acceptable then?" he asked.

"You don't have to do this, Ianto." Owen's voice was almost gentle.

Ianto smiled, ducking his head and chuckling. "I'll take that as a *yes* then?" He pushed away from the counter and looked carefully at the scowling doctor. "And I know I don't *have* to do this," he reassured. "But I think it might be best if I did."

Owen stood his ground, looking up at the younger man. "For him," he asked pointedly, "or for you?"

Ianto shrugged. "Both I guess." He turned away from the too knowing brown eyes and busied himself pouring the freshly brewed coffee into the mugs. He handed one to Owen, keeping the other for himself, and urged the other man from the kitchen. He settled into an overstuffed chair and gestured Owen to the couch beside it.

A comfortable silence settled between them, something they'd found more and more often after Jack's departure. Owen took the time to savor the perfectly prepared coffee and to take one more look around the neat but terribly bland living room. It reminded Owen of a model home out of a magazine, picture perfect with no sign of anyone actually *living* there. No wonder he almost had to threaten the young man to get him to come back here.

"Talk to me, Ianto," he said into the stillness. "What's going on in that convoluted brainpan of yours?"

"I bought this place two weeks after Canary Warf," he said emotionlessly. "Paid in full as her Majesty's solicitors were very generous to the handful of us that survived." He took a long swallow of his coffee, collecting his thoughts, sorting through the jumble of memories of that horrible, frantic time.

"We weren't sure how well Li...," he stumbled over her name, knowing now that the creature he'd pulled from Canary Wharf hadn't been his beloved Lisa. "How well she'd be able to manage after we'd managed to reverse what was done to her. So I found a place that would be easy for someone with possible mobility issues. Made the last of the modifications myself in those final weeks." He put his cup down on the wooden coffee table and rubbed a hand roughly over his face. "Seems a shame for all of that work to go to waste," he said with a depreciating laugh.

"So it's penance then?" Owen asked sharply, his eyes on the young man.

Ianto looked up, meeting Owen's angry brown eyes with his own tired blue. "Atonement," he countered wearily.

Owen shook his head. "Then no," he said evenly, holding the younger man's eyes. "Not fair to either of you, especially not him." He schooled his expression carefully, certain Ianto wasn't being entirely truthful, especially with himself. He watched the blue eyes flash, glad to see some of the familiar fire back in the young man. He took a deliberate swallow of his coffee, never breaking eye contact with the other man.

"I know he's not Jack," Ianto growled.

Owen shrugged. "Never said you didn't."

"And I'm not looking for a replacement for either of them."

Owen leaned back on the couch, sprawling negligently. "Good to know," he responded mildly.

Ianto all but growled at the doctor, rising and pacing the small area. "I just thought he might like a place he could get around in easily. Somewhere that had windows and sunshine and a sense of... *normalcy*!" he snarled. "The rift and Torchwood have taken everything else, seems the least we can do for him," he added darkly as he braced against a window sill looking blankly out at his fenced back yard.

"Sound like it'd do you *both* some good," Owen conceded gently. He placed his now empty coffee cup on the table. "We'll need to get him set up with the normal background work-up, family history, job, credit history and all that rot that you're so good at. We'll also need to clean out that storage room and get a bed and dresser set up for him, or for you, whoever you two decide is going where." He dug a small notebook out of his jacket's breast pocket and looked around at the organized space for a pen.

Ianto turned, surprised by the sudden change. He grabbed the pen from by the phone and handed it to Owen over the back of the couch.

Owen grinned up at him. "Thanks, mate." He scribbled a few things on the blank page, jotting notes in his spidery scrawl. "We'll have the girls take him shopping for the odds and ends he'll need. Tosh has been waiting to do that for weeks." He looked back up at Ianto. "He'll need one of the Torchwood cards until we can get his set up. He'll need pretty much everything, and we can't have him running short."

"I think he might be a bit more comfortable if I took him shopping."

Owen smirked. "And end up with two constantly overdressed co-workers? Not a chance," he countered. "Poor sod's gonna want more than just suits and Toshy's got a fair eye for what looks good on a bloke. Besides, you'll be too busy getting his paperwork through all the damned red tape."

Ianto chuckled at the good-natured jibe, moving back to sit beside Owen. He blinked as Owen's words registered. "Co-worker?"

Owen shrugged, eyes studiously glued to the notebook in his hands. "Gwen and Tosh's idea. Made perfect sense really. He's proven adept at dealing with that mountain of paperwork you and the PM seem to think we can't live without. He's familiar with the rules and regs, thanks to Gwen. And Toshy's given him a glowing rec on his computer skills, so why not? Not like he's gonna bolt the first time he comes in contact with some odd Torchwood tech because to him, it's *all* odd." He finally looked up at Ianto, his expression serious. "Unless you've got a better idea of somewhere he can feel and maybe even *be* useful. Not much call for Spitfire pilots now a days."

Ianto thought it through honestly, quickly weighing the pros and cons and the surprisingly well-thought-out points that Owen had made. "It would free me to perform some of the technical and back-up duties that would help the rest of you in the field," he finally answered.

"Who knows," Owen said with a knowing smile, "might even start getting you out of the Hub at a normal time once in a while." Ianto scowled at the chuckling doctor. "Tell me I'm wrong, Teaboy," he said with a smirk. "Give me a day since Jack's been gone that you've left the Hub at the time you were supposed to."

"There were things that needed to be done."

"And they could have waited, or been handed off to one of us," he countered. "You don't have to be perfect, Ianto. Hell, kinda nice to see that there's a normal guy under those sharp suits, once in a while."

Ianto felt his cheeks heat, caught out. "I just..." He shrugged, unable to explain how the suits had become a kind of armor for him; a way to separate between "Torchwood Ianto" and "Normal Ianto" with the simple sliding off of a suit jacket. Except the two were so strongly entwined now that the "Normal Ianto" was coming out more and more, the dark humor, the playful banter with Tosh and Gwen, the good-natured rivalry between he and Owen. And that was because of Jack. Jack, who found ways past the suit to the man underneath. Jack, who'd made him feel then left without a word or even a backward glance. The suit hadn't stopped the pain and loneliness from following him home, from creeping up on him late at night in the house already filled with too many memories of 'what could have been.'

Maybe John's presence would help fill the space with other, more pleasant memories, help ease some of the loneliness. A strong hand on his shoulder startled him out of his introspection. He looked up questioningly into concerned brown eyes.

"It gets easier," Owen said gently. "Not better. Still hurts like hell sometimes. But eventually, it gets easier to remember the good." Dianne's words echoed in his head and he shared them with Ianto. "Don't make it *less* than it was," he urged. His voice was rough but steady as he let the young man see his own pain for just the briefest of moments. He squeezed Ianto's shoulder, offering what momentary comfort he could, not that it was much.

Ianto nodded and Owen dropped his hand, clearing his throat noisily and rising from the couch in an oddly graceful movement. "So. Let's go see what needs to be moved in that spare room to get it ready for your new housemate."

Ianto scrubbed his hand over his face, nodding distractedly before getting to his feet as well. "I think I have the plans in the workroom. Just take a second to get them."

"Why am I not surprised you've got the bloody blue-prints?" Owen's sharp, familiar tone asked.

"Because you know I'm far more organized than you'll ever be," Ianto shot back, his lips curving into a teasing half-smile.

"In your dreams, Teaboy. In your *dreams*."

Chapter Seven

John listened with half an ear as Ianto relayed information to the team in the field. It still amazed him how a group of four was expected to patrol and maintain such an active area. In his first "official" month with Torchwood Three, his respect for the rag-tag team had grown immensely. He looked up at Ianto's sharp tone, wondering what Owen had done this time. Something about the young Welshman's tone had him on his feet and moving to the command center before he'd even consciously decided to do so, his inventory paperwork forgotten in concern for the team.

He limped up the stairs and stood near enough that he could see the tactical screens but still be out the young man's way. He studied the flickering displays, taking a moment to orient himself with the information displayed. The team registered as a collection of gold dots moving rapidly through a superimposed map of the city streets. The creature they were following was moving even faster, a red dot darting across streets and alleyways to avoid the Torchwood vehicle.

"Owen, these aren't standard Zankantz," Ianto argued. "The readings don't match and neither do their actions. Proceed with caution."

"What do you *THINK* we're proceeding with?" came the sharp retort. "If these aren't standard Zanks, then it's even *more* important to stop them *now*. Clean up's hell with these idiots," the doctor grumbled.

John shifted to the side computer, quickly calling up the alien species in question, scanning the available information. Acidic bodily fluids, poisonous bites, generally solitary but known to occasionally hunt in packs. They were oddly pretty with their bright orange and red mottled skin, deep green, cat-slitted eyes and slender, long-limbed bodies. They looked almost too delicate to be dangerous, but John had learned very quickly that delicate and small did *not* mean harmless.

He glanced at the CCTV footage that was cycling through, trying to track the creature and blinked as it darted into view. It paused in the shadows, looking back over its shoulder towards the direction the SUV would be coming. Thin lips parted, showing needle thin teeth. Nasal slits flared as the creature's head went back, scenting the air as it stood in the alleyway, waiting. John glanced back to the map that showed the team's location, the gold dots closing on the red. The red didn't move.

"What are you doing, critter?" he muttered under his breath, his attention going back to the CCTV footage. The creature shifted on its feet, watching the street in stillness. Only when the flash of the SUV's lights illuminated the alley did the creature dart off again, deliberately dashing *through* the lights and drawing the team after it. John blinked, his fingers flying over the keys as he recalled the information on the alien. "Lower intelligence, similar to hunting dogs or similar instinct hunters" the entry read. "More fox than hound-dog," he contradicted quietly.

He called up Ianto's research screens, blessing Tosh for her insistence on daily lessons on the Hub Mainframe until he was comfortable with the system. He compared the readings of this creature to the Zankantz norms and immediately noted what had caught Ianto's attention. The energy readings were twice the normal, the creature's body fairly glowing with its equivalent of adrenaline, and its muscle mass was significantly higher as well. Added to the too controlled movements and calculated pause, it made the hair on the back of John's neck twitch. He moved closer to Ianto, studying the screens intently.

"Why do they *always* head into the damned sewers?" Owen's voice sounded over the com-link.

"Covers scents better and gives more hiding places and potential ambush points," John answered absently as he studied the maps trying to figure out what the creature was up to.

"I feel *so* much better now," Owen complained and John blushed as he realized the microphone on Ianto's station had picked up his muttered observation.

Ianto grinned up at him, reassuring him that it was all right. John shrugged self-consciously and moved closer to Ianto's chair, leaning over the Welshman's shoulder to point at a shadowed area of the display. "What is this area?"

"Interference of some sort," Ianto answered even as he listened to the team pulling gear from the parked SUV. "It happens sometimes in the less populated centers, cameras are vandalized, old units finally break and no one notices for a while, all perfectly normal." The young man attempted to pull up another view only to growl in frustration, muttering under his breath in Welsh. "If frustrating," he amended. "Owen, be careful. There's a blind section down there about 30 meters to the south of where our friend is heading."

"Will do."

John watched in silence as Ianto continued to mutter at the screens and scan through, looking for other feeds. The red dot approached the blind section slowly, the gold dots trailing behind. It paused again just at the edge of a tunnel that angled towards the blind spot. Something wasn't right. He hit the button on his own communications earpiece. "Dr. Harper, what do you see immediately ahead of you?" he asked calmly, his own eyes flickering over the screens.

"Darkness and sewers," was the irritated reply. "Teaboy, where the *hell* did it go?"

"It's shifted direction," he answered as the red dot began to move once more, turning into the tunnel and slowly inching nearer the interference point. "It's headed south down what appears to be an access tunnel. I think there may be a nest in that blind spot and it's headed for it."

"Bloody hell," Owen cursed wearily. "Have I mentioned how much I *hate* the bloody sewers?"

John tuned out the banter, letting the team take the comfort in the familiar exchanges. He shifted back to the other computer, calling up the SUV and the surrounding area. Another area of interference showed, parallel to the path the team was currently walking. The CCTV footage of the alien pausing, as if waiting for its pursuers, slammed back into John's head and he hit his comm. device again. "Owen! Pull your team back, now. It's a trap! Pull back to the SUV."

"What?"

"Now, Mister Harper!" he ordered, years of military command training kicking in as he ran scenario after scenario of possible ambush points to watch for. "Keep each other in sight at all times and get back to the vehicle."

He leaned over Ianto's shoulder and pointed out the secondary point of interference. "Can you call up another view, get me *any* other visuals of that point?"

The young man's fingers flew over the keys, a dizzying blur of images flashing across the split screen. "There!" Ianto said triumphantly, pointing out two skulking figures moving through a side tunnel that joined with the one the team had been headed towards. "Owen," Ianto said quietly, his fingers moving quickly to make the conversation private between the two of them. "Two Talendeanns headed toward the tunnel the Zankantz just entered. One looks very like the one Gwen inadvertently insulted before."

"Damn," was the equally quiet reply. "Knew he'd gone too easy last time. Thanks, both of you. Gwen. Tosh," they heard him call through the speakers, "Keep your eyes open and move."

The gold dots moved back the way they'd come, towards the unguarded SUV, while the aliens continued on their thwarted path. Something still didn't feel right. "Ms. Cooper," John called over the comm. "Keep a careful eye to the left once you're out of the tunnel. Harper, to the right. Toshiko, your job is to have the keys ready and to get the three of you out of there in one piece as quickly as possible. Watch each other's backs," he cautioned.

He could feel Ianto's shoulder pressing against his chest as the young man unconsciously leaned back against him, seeking some kind of connection. He reached down and squeezed the broad shoulder. "They'll be fine," he reassured, hating the waiting and the all too familiar feeling of helplessness. They listened to the team's quiet relaying of intel as the three made their way cautiously back to the vehicle.

"*OWEN*!" Tosh's voice called sharply over the open line, quickly followed by the sound of gun-fire and Owen cursing.

"Get in to that vehicle!" John ordered. "Gwen, Owen, Report! Talk to me."

"Damned Zank was waiting in the shadows," Owen growled. "Tosh, Go!" he ordered his voice pained but steady. "I'm *fine*. It's just a scratch. Get us out of here."

They could hear the familiar purr of the SUV starting and the rev of its engine. Owen's clipped, professional tones talked Gwen through what she needed to do for his injuries until they got back to the Hub.

"It was a blind spot," Tosh informed them. "All that registered was some interference. It came out of nowhere and then disappeared into the same tunnel as the others."

"Let it go," John said calmly. "It's going back to the others. We'll deal with it after we've regrouped and seen to Dr. Harper's injuries. Head back home, team, and we'll talk then."

"On our way," Tosh answered. "And John?"

"Yes?" he answered distractedly as he directed Ianto to follow certain images to track the remaining creatures.

"Thank you."

John stopped, completely surprised by the heartfelt thanks. He could feel his face heating up as Ianto turned and smiled at him. "You're welcome, darlin'," he drawled. "Now come back home so we can tend the wounded and see what happened."

"Yes, sir," she replied, the relieved smile evident in her voice before she closed the connection.

John collapsed shakily into a nearby chair, running a decidedly unsteady hand over his face.

"I'll go prepare the med bay and begin a fresh pot of coffee," Ianto stated matter of factly as he rose to do just that.

John nodded, still uncertain as to what he'd just done. A strong hand settled on his shoulder, squeezing gently. John looked up at the young man, unable to summon even a hint of his normal smile.

"If I may, Sir," Ianto asked formally, softening the moment with a gentle smile. "Very well done." He squeezed the shoulder again then walked away, leaving John to wonder what the hell he'd just done.

Chapter Eight

John sat at his desk, trying to reign in the temper he rarely showed. He'd do none of them any good by lambasting them for being overworked and fatigued. They were four people, five if you counted him, trying to do a job that needed at least *double* that. This had to stop before one of them ended up dead.

"She's going to be fine."

He turned, smiling at the tired and battered but whole young woman standing beside his desk. "Pulled the short straw did ya, darlin'?" he teased Toshiko with a tired smile, motioning her into a chair.

She took the chair gratefully, sinking into it with a sigh. She caught his hand in hers. "No," she countered, smiling softly, "I volunteered. Besides, the boys have learned the hard way that you're less likely to yell at me."

He squeezed her hand, leaning back carefully in the chair and closing his eyes against the building headache. "I wouldn't yell at them either... *this* time. Not their fault the Rift's decided to be cantankerous the last two weeks." He released her hand and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "As leader, I should have put my foot down sooner."

Tosh sighed, leaning forward to click off the loop of CCTV footage playing on John's computer. Gwen, exhausted, trying to run from the tiny balls of scales and teeth, tripping and going down under a small herd of Nibblers. She took a risk and caught the older man's chin and forced him to look at her. "She's going to be fine," she said firmly, looking into his haunted blue eyes. "You need to stop blaming yourself. It's not your fault either."

"You four are *my* responsibility now," he countered, feeling the weight of command settle on his shoulders once again. "I should never have sent y'all out knowing you were so tired. It was asking for trouble." He scrubbed a hand over his face and hair, sending his curls into a riotous tumble. "I'm gonna end up gettin' y'all killed, Toshiko. And that don't sit too well with me at all."

Tosh chuckled, earning her a confused glance. "That's good to know," she said gently. "You're just as tired as the rest of us, we're just a little more used to it. That's just the way of Torchwood. The Rift gets going, and it's hard to keep up. But, we manage, or," she conceded, "we try to anyway. As much as five people can."

"And that's the problem." He leaned back in the chair, reluctantly letting go of the young woman's hand. "It's too much for five people. There are other agencies besides Torchwood that monitor the Rift and the things that come through it." In the two months since he'd been thrust into the role of defacto leader of Torchwood Three, he'd had a crash course in cold-war politics, interagency suspicion, and Torchwood history.

"Yes, there are," Ianto's voice sounded from the stairs. "Unfortunately, very few are willing to assist in dealing with that flotsam and jetsam unless there is an actual, *visible* threat." He sank into Owen's chair, spinning to face John and Tosh. "Gwen is fine, if a bit shaken. She and Owen will be up shortly for a mission debriefing." He sighed wearily and made to push himself out of the chair to head up to the small kitchenette and begin coffee. John motioned for him to stay seated, and the young Welshman sank back down gratefully.

"Visible threat?" He thought about the very visible herd of Nibblers that had been terrorizing a small apartment building until Torchwood stepped in and sent them packing. "Are they waiting for full out invasion?" he snapped irritably. "Damned fool isolationist mindset's gonna get a hell of a lotta people killed," he drawled. "Happened more than once already," he complained bitterly. "Have we learned nothing?" He looked at Ianto then Toshiko. "Maybe it's time to remind a few stiff necked politicians about what we've learned over the years."

Ianto shrugged. "We could try, Sir," he offered skeptically. "But I doubt it will be successful."

John offered the young man a smile. "Never hurts to try."

"Depends on what you're trying," came Owen's rough voice. "Oi. Out of my chair, Ian... " a large yawn interrupted his words. "Damn it!" he growled, scrubbing a hand harshly over his face. "Coffee?" he begged, eyes wide as he looked at Ianto.

John motioned for Ianto to stay seated and gave up his own chair to the exhausted doctor while Toshiko moved aside for the injured Gwen. "No more coffee tonight, Mister Harper, for *any* of us. Sleep." He turned to Toshiko. "Do you feel awake enough to take Owen and Ianto home before heading home yourself?"

She nodded, ignoring the scowls and protests from the two in question.

"Good girl," he said with a thankful smile. "I'll take Gwen home and see her settled."

"I thought I'd just stay here," Gwen offered softly, her voice rough with fatigue and pain. "Someone needs to monitor the Rift and," she sighed, lifting her injured arm. "And staying's easier than explaining or lying."

John shook his head. "Toshiko, set the monitors to alert to my phone unit should something major happen." He looked at his gathered and exhausted team, reassured he was doing the right thing by them. "We're too tuckered out to do anyone *any* good right now. The Rift can wait for eight hours while y'all get some much-deserved rest. Tomorrow, we'll look at how to recruit some additional members." Four sets of eyes snapped to his face, stunned and disbelieving.

"Oh yeah! That'll go over well," Owen snapped. "Secret organization looking for new members to chase down alien threats. Serious inquiries only. Apply at the Cardiff Tourist Center off the Plas."

John let the doctor rail a moment before stepping in. "I'm not that addled *or* that naive, Dr. Harper," he said calmly, reining in most of his temper but letting a touch of it show in his eyes as he met the younger man's gaze. "Which is why I want y'all's input on this. There are all manner of organizations that I'm sure we could pull from, we just need to figure out how to approach them. *But*," he added decisively, "not until we've all had some sleep." He smiled at Toshiko. "If they give you too much trouble, darlin', you have permission to use force and," he looked at the sulking Owen, "a gag as needed."

"Thanks s'much," Owen muttered. "No respect."

John hid his smile and laid a careful hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Do you need to get anything else before I take you home?" he asked quietly.

She shook her head. "I don't know what I'm going to tell him," she said wearily.

"The truth," he answered back matter of factly. Once more, all eyes locked on him and he turned to take in the team as a whole. "That a problem for y'all?"

Toshiko looked away. Owen scowled but remained silent. Only Ianto met his eyes and spoke. "Most people don't deal well with the knowledge of what we do, Sir," he said cautiously.

"I did," Gwen said softly, hope shining in her brown eyes.

"As did I," John confirmed. "I know it's not standard procedure, folks. But these aren't standard times." He looked at Ianto. "I know we've done an extensive background check on Mr. Williams. I also know he's not a high risk. During war, soldiers need someone to turn to, someone to remind them who they're fighting *for* to stay sane in the heat of battle. And if you think y'all aren't soldiers at war, then you're deluding yourselves."

He squeezed Gwen's shoulder. "We tell him the truth, and if it doesn't go well, we try another approach. Those connections are too important to give up without a fight." He looked at the other three. "Go home. Sleep. Come back tomorrow, but not before 10am, is that understood?" They nodded. "Good. Toshiko, don't forget the alarms." She smiled, nodding. "Good night, y'all," he added softly as he helped Gwen to her feet and escorted her out of the Hub, trusting the others to not be too far behind them.

Gwen handed the keys to John and leaned against his solid warmth. The painkillers were kicking in and sleep tugged at her senses. She let John lead her through the now open door and settle her on the couch. If she was lucky, Rhys would be asleep and she could just crawl into bed without having to....

"Gwen, is that you?" Rhys, dressed in the lightweight pajamas she'd bought him for Christmas, flipped on the light. He took in her bandages and her sleepy eyes and was immediately by her side. "What hap..." he closed his eyes as she looked away. "No, I'd rather not know than be lied to again," he said gently, brushing his fingers over her cheek. "Just tell me if you're really okay."

She nodded, leaning gratefully into his touch.

"Then your tosser of an arrogant boss," he said loud enough for the figure in the shadows to hear, "is free to get the hell out of our apartm..." He stalled as the man stepped further into the light. Rhys looked from the stranger to Gwen. "Who's this, then?"

Gwen smiled. "Rhys Williams meet John Harker. My new boss." She chuckled, leaning closer to Rhys to whisper, "He's not nearly the arrogant tosser that you thought Jack was."

Rhys shook his head, smiling. "And the painkillers kick in." He looked over at John, still not completely convinced by Gwen's reassurances. "I'm gonna go put her to bed before whatever you lot gave her takes hold and knocks her out." He helped his relaxed partner off the couch, wrapping an arm around her waist as she leaned heavily against him. "I expect you to still be here when I get back. I have questions."

"Of course," John answered.

Rhys got Gwen stripped out of her clothes and under the blankets. His eyes kept straying to the white bandage that covered her arm, his anger at seeing her hurt yet again building with each little whimper and gasp as Gwen settled. She caught his arm, stopping him from storming back into the front room and the bastard that had let her get hurt.

"Play nice, (love)," she said, her speech slurring as she fought to stay awake. "Not his fault. He already feels bad about it." She smiled at her lover and best friend. "He's one of the good guys."

Rhys leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "All right, all right. I'll be nice, this time," he promised. "You sleep. I'll be right back."

He left her sleeping, returning to the front room and uncertain if the other man would even still be there. He was honestly surprised to see the tall man sitting rigidly upright on the edge of the couch. "So, do I get the truth of what happened to her, or another less than believable lie?"

The other man had the decency to blush before answering. "She stumbled and fell during a chase and the... creatures they were chasing attacked her. Her team-mates managed to capture or drive off the creatures, but not before they had managed to bite her several times." He looked up at Rhys, clearly upset. "She'll be fine. They're not dangerous bites, just annoying."

Rhys settled beside John on the couch. "Creatures?" He looked at John. "Always wondered if Andy was right and you lot were chasing more than just overly aggressive criminals."

"Andy?"

Rhys chuckled. "PC Andy Davidson, her old partner. He's still a bit... steamed that she up and left him for you lot." He grew serious. "She changed after joining up with Torchwood; all manner of secrets and lies." He blew out a frustrated breath. "Don't mind the secrets so much. Wasn't like she could tell me everything about her cases when she was with the police, but at least she didn't feel like she had to lie to me about them. What the hell do you lot chase that she thinks it's better to lie about it than just say 'it's work'?"

"Aliens," John answered quietly.

Rhys blinked, looking at John as if waiting for the punchline. John's expression never changed. Rhys blinked again, a good many things suddenly falling in to place. "I'll be damned," he finally whispered. "Looks like I owe ol' Andy an apology. Told him he was daft with all his talk of 'aliens invading London on Christmas' and strange looking creatures turning up in the sewers that Torchwood was trying to cover up." He shook his head. "Why didn't she just tell me? Didn't she trust me?"

"She wanted to keep you innocent of it," John guessed. "A lot of what we deal with are those visitors that aren't exactly peaceful."

"Neither were the creeps she dealt with when she was on the police force," Rhys countered. "Didn't stop her from turning to me for comfort, or from telling me that mankind sucked." He shook his head. "All she'd have to have said was that work sucked. How hard is that? She didn't need to lie, especially when she bloody well sucks at it." He flopped back against the couch back. "So now what?"

"Now we both go get some sleep. And tomorrow you talk to her, take care of her, let her know you love her." He rose from the couch, grimacing as his leg twinged sharply. Surprisingly strong hands caught him as he stumbled, holding on until he regained his footing. "Thank you." He looked at Rhys. "We've made the right decision, trusting you."

Rhys shrugged. "Not anything too special. Just an everyday bloke with an open mind and a woman he loves. You gonna be alright heading... wherever? Do you need a lift?"

John shook his head. "Go take care of Gwen. I'll be fine." He shook the other man's hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Rhys."

"You too," Rhys answered, surprised to find he actually meant it. He walked John to the door, closing and locking it behind the other man. He chuckled, shaking his head as he realized just what he'd been told. "My Gwen, chasing ET through the streets of Cardiff. Why doesn't that surprise me?" He flipped off the lights and returned to the bedroom, stripping out of his pajamas and crawling into bed. He smiled when, even drugged, Gwen sought out his heat, curling into his arms with a contented murmur. He kissed her forehead. "My very own Dana Scully, but prettier and a believer." He shook his head and held her just a little tighter, glad she was home.

The house was quiet when John finally made his weary way through the door. He locked up, checking the system to make sure it was secure before making his way to his bedroom. He clicked on the little light beside his bed, not wanting to deal with the bright overheads. On the nightstand next to the lamp sat his bottle of prescription painkillers, a note in Ianto's precise hand, and a glass of water still beaded with condensation. He shook his head and read the note.

Your accent is probably near to unintelligible by now. Take two of your pills and finish the water. Yes, all of it. Then get some sleep. I've my alarm set and will make sure you're up in plenty of time to shower, shave and have breakfast before going back to the Hub. The 10am call goes for the boss as well. Good night, Sir.

John chuckled and did as directed, draining the glass before wearily stripping out of his suit and falling into the soft, if empty, bed. All in all, the day had turned out very well. Things were settling in and so was he. He clicked off the light and was soon fast asleep.

Chapter Nine

"With all due respect, Sir," Ianto said calmly to the bureaucrat blustering before them. "I would think if UNIT and Torchwood can manage to overcome such an inherent philosophical difference in their mission *for the good of the world*, that the Prime Minister's advisors could see the benefit of doing so as well."

He barely held his temper, having never had any use for the self-aggrandizing nature of such petty little men. The Torchwood team had spent the last two weeks in contact with UNIT, both past and present, discussing the possibility of some joint patrols. The exchange of information alone had been invaluable. And even he, graduate of Torchwood One and its mission to "protect the kingdom and its people from the threat of the Doctor of Tardis", had to admit that perhaps that threat had been overstated. The Doctor had a long history of *positive* service to the very kingdom that he was rumored to be a threat to.

"I'm sure we shall take that under advisement, Mr. Jones," the pretentious ass brayed at them from behind his desk. "But until we have had sufficient time to review the figures, I'm afraid Torchwood Three will simply have to maintain its current configuration."

Owen growled in frustration, scowling at the weaselly little man but holding his tongue.

"Of course, Sir," Ianto answered blandly. "I'll be sure to inform the United Nations that we will be unable to assist in their good faith exchange of information about the latest rounds of Rift activity, as we've not enough personnel to man both the Hub sensors *and* a multi-day conference away from Cardiff. I'm sure the Special Committee on Extraterrestrial Activities will understand, even though it was the Queen who specifically requested the Torchwood presence at that meeting."

"Well, I..." The man picked up his phone and quickly punched his speed dial.

It took everything that Ianto had to maintain his disinterested look as the man quickly verified Ianto's information. The man's pasty face went even paler as he listened intently to the voice on the other end, interrupting only with an occasional "Yes, Sir." or "Of course not, Sir." He hung up the phone and scribbled a few notes on the form in front of him before finally looking up at the Torchwood Three members.

"I apologize, Mr. Jones, Mr. Harper, Ms. Sato," he said to each in turn. "Apparently I was mistaken on the current situation. The continued assistance provided by the Torchwood Three team is well known to us and of *course* we wish to see the exemplary work continued. After the fall of Torchwood One..."

Ianto tuned out the rest of the mumbled and obviously unpracticed apologetic speech. They needed the assistance and they'd gotten it, even if it was only enough for one more person, it might be worth it. Between Tosh's connections with UNIT and Gwen's connection with the local Cardiff police, they might actually be able to pull this off. Andy was already settling in, serving as an empathetic face for Torchwood with the local constabulary and gaining them, if not acceptance, at least a bit less hostility, from the locals that were normally the first on a "Torchwood scene". They'd been offered interviews with a few UNIT personnel that had expressed an interest in working more closely with the Rift in exchange for some of UNIT's intel about a certain time traveler. Finally the man wound down, jotted a few more notes on the financial request forms that Ianto had handed him, then stood. The team stood as well, dutifully shaking the man's hand. Ianto took the papers, not bothering to look at the numbers, assured that Torchwood had gotten what it had asked for. He was the last and nodded his thanks to the idiot before ushering the other two from the room before Owen's composure broke. Out in the hall, he hurried them to a lesser used corridor and finally let his own smirk blossom.

"Ianto," Owen said, his voice tinged with merriment. "Remind me *never* to play poker with you."

"How much did we get?" Tosh asked sensibly, her arm around Ianto's waist as she tried to see the paper he held.

He shifted it so she could see, her eyes widening at the number. "We did it. Oh my god, we *did* it!"

He hugged her back, sharing her enthusiasm and showing the numbers to Owen who simply whistled. "More than we hoped."

Footsteps clicked down the corridor behind them and the three shifted to a more professional distance, though their smiles never dimmed. They turned and headed down the corridor towards the parking garage.

"Dusty?"

Ianto stopped at the name, his head tilting to study the young woman headed towards them carrying an armload of files. Owen and Tosh stopped as well, looking at him in confusion.

"Oh my goddess, *Dusty*! It is you, isn't it?"

He blinked, taking in the statuesque redhead with her severely pulled back hair and heavy-framed glasses. "Seanny?" He asked, moving closer.

The woman nodded, a bright smile lighting up her face. "Look at you then," she said, her accent heavy but lyrical as her green eyes roamed over Ianto. "All suits and smiles," she teased, shifting the files and wrapping an arm around Ianto and hugging him tight. "Quite the change from that sullen boy in nothing but jeans and archive dust."

Owen and Tosh looked at the two, watching as Ianto blushed and the woman's rich laughter filled the hallway. "Oh," Owen muttered, "there's a story I want to hear. So," he called a bit louder, moving to Ianto's side. "Gonna introduce us, Ianto?"

Ianto's blush grew as Seanny's eyes lingered on Toshiko, making the Asian tech blush prettily.

"Who is she?" she whispered in Ianto's ear. "And please tell me she's single and that I *might* stand a chance with her."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Seannan O'Halleran I'd like you to meet Dr. Owen Harper and Miss Toshiko Sato. Owen, Tosh, this is Seanny. We worked together at Torchwood One." They nodded their greetings and Tosh blushed as Seannan held her hand a touch longer than strictly necessary. She changed directions and walked with them as they continued towards the exit.

"You still in Cardiff then?" Seanny asked.

"Still at Three," Ianto confirmed. "So are they."

Seanny relaxed and nodded her understanding. "Looks like you're doing okay for yourself," she said with a grin. "Better there than Two. I tried, Dusty, I really tried, but he's completely round the bend. *You* might be able to deal with him, but I couldn't. So, I ended up back here working for the bureaucrats."

Ianto stopped, looking at his old friend. "Would you go back to it then?"

Seanny's eyes widened. "In a heartbeat! Better Rift detritus than handsy old men and specialty groups trying to get you to sneak them in somewhere." She looked at him suspiciously. "Three recruiting?"

Ianto shrugged. "Possibly. Would mean giving up London for the back end of nowhere," he teased with a gentle smile. "I think you'd do well there. I have."

"Where do I apply?" she asked seriously. "And how soon can I start?"

Chapter Ten

Laughter filled the corner of the small pub as the newest member of Torchwood Three regaled the gathered team with the story of Ianto's nickname, much to the young Welshman's chagrin.

"So, Deirdre sends us down to the archives cause this poor boy that told off Director Hill hasn't been seen for *hours*."

"Didn't tell him off," Ianto corrected mildly, "Just informed him that his hypothesis was incorrect."

Seannan rolled her eyes, looking at him in amusement. "Yeah, but you did it by telling him that he was an undereducated, self-aggrandizing, arse-kissing toady who wouldn't know real scientific testing if it bit him on his over-large arse."

Tosh pounded on Owen's back as he coughed from the beer he'd just inhaled.

Ianto blushed. "In my defense, I was the fourth person to warn him about the problem, and if he'd done what he'd planned, he'd have blown up the entire third floor testing labs and everyone in them."

Seanny wrapped an arm around the young man's stiff shoulders. "Never said you were wrong, love, just that you could have done it a bit more... diplomatically."

Ianto sipped at his ale. "Distracted him from continuing, though."

Owen wiped at his eyes. "Damn, Teaboy," he said with a grin. "I'm impressed."

Ianto grinned, shrugging as he finished off his ale which was quickly replaced by another.

Seanny grinned. "You're behind," she teased.

He shook his head and started in on the next beer as she continued her story. "Anyway, Lisa and I head down into the archives looking for this wunderkind that had balls enough to do what the rest of us only dreamed of. Now, the archives are... were... a rabbit warren if you didn't know what you were looking for. So we're wandering around calling out for 'Mr. Jones' and trying to decide what this bloke must look like. We hear someone call out and we head towards him, back into the deepest part of the archives where *no one* willingly goes. Then we hear something fall and some very inventive cursing. We're off like a shot and come skidding around the corner and find this positive *cloud* of dust."

"I'd reached up to pull down a box and it tipped," Ianto explained. "And I don't think it had been dusted since it had been logged in back in 1924."

"So," the redhead continued, "the dust settles and there's this... dust bunny standing there. His curls are gray with dust, and his face and chest are caked with the stuff, and he's standing there cursing in a mix of Welsh and English. Lisa can't stop giggling and he just *scowls* at her, which isn't nearly as intimidating because he sneezes and there's another cascade of dust."

Tosh smiled at the young Welshman who was studiously looking anywhere *but* at the other team members. "So that's how you met Lisa?" she asked gently.

Ianto's smile was bittersweet. "She sent me flowers the next day to apologize for laughing at me, addressed to 'Dusty Jones'," he finished with an expressive eye roll.

"In *her* defense," Seanny countered, "we couldn't find your first name." She shoulder bumped the young man. "Do you *know* how many Mr. Joneses there were in Torchwood One? Forty-seven. Luckily Deirdre knew what department you worked in at least. Besides, you got them, didn't you?" She said with a wink.

Ianto nodded, silently wondering if it was actually a *good* thing, all things considered. He drained his second ale and excused himself from the table to order another round for them all. The other three watched him go.

"He really loved her," Seanny said softly. "Canary Wharf killed that spark in a lot of us. Least I got some closure. Deirdre was found and I could bury her. Lisa's body was one of the missing."

Tosh and Owen shared a pained, knowing look, allowing the horror of what really happened to Lisa to remain unspoken. "Deirdre was your partner then?" Owen asked with surprising gentleness.

Seanny smiled. "Yeah. Handfasted eight years when the damned ghosts came through. Luckily, she died when a wall collapsed on her rather than in one of those horror chairs. The bagger said it was quick."

"Bagger?" Tosh asked.

"What they called those of us brought in to clean up," Owen whispered as he took a heavy swallow of his drink. "Nothing left for us to do but bag the bodies."

Seanny looked up, studying Owen's profile for a long moment. "Thought I knew you from somewhere," she said with a soft chuckle. "You made them let me through to see her. Let me stay with her body until the truck came."

Owen shrugged. "Not like you were in the way," he deflected, shifting his drink nervously between his long fingers.

Seanny reached across the small table and caught Owen's hand in hers. "You helped a lot of us that day," she reassured him. "Never did get to say thanks."

Owen smirked, leering at her comically. "Could say it now," he joked, waggling his eyebrows at her. "*OW*!" He rubbed his arm where Tosh had hit him. "Not letting you spend any more time with Gwen," he complained. "She's teaching you bad habits!"

Seannan's bright laughter danced around them. "Sorry, Doc. You're not exactly my type." Her eyes flickered over to Tosh then back to Owen.

"Figures," Owen complained, not missing the pretty blush that stained Toshy's cheeks when she caught the red-head looking. "So," he said with a conspiratorial look, leaning against the table. "What other stories do you have about our repressed Welshman?"

"Well," she said, allowing the quick change of topic as Ianto rejoined them with four more beers and an aggrieved sigh. "There was the time he ended up blue... "

John quietly opened the door, unsurprised that the house was quiet. He'd spent the evening going over the latest potential recruits with Gwen. Three from UNIT and one more from the Cardiff police made six new members of Torchwood Three in just over two months, and John hoped he was doing the right thing. He locked up behind himself, shrugging off his jacket and hanging it up before slipping out of his shoes and padding silently into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and leaned against the counter a moment, trying to decide whether to shower or just head straight to bed.

"There's a bottle of your painkillers in the drawer to the left of the sink," a voice called out from the darkened living room.

Tiredness was the only reason John didn't react more fully. He turned towards the voice. "Well, I didn't hear any air-raid sirens," he teased quietly. "So care to tell me why you're sitting in the dark?"

"Easier than turning on the light," came the accented response.

"Fair enough," he conceded. He pushed away from the counter and slowly made his way towards the young man, flicking on a small reading lamp on his way by. The dim light gave him just enough to see without breaking the still shadows. He wasn't surprised by the half empty bottle of rum sitting in front of the young man, or the way Ianto turned the heavy glass around and around in his hands. The tear-tracks on the handsome face, however, did surprise him. He lowered himself onto the couch beside his friend, keeping his voice soft and low. "Evening not go well?"

A mirthless laugh was his answer before Ianto drained his glass and leaned forward unsteadily to pour himself another. "Depends on your definition of well, I suppose." He continued to sip the amber liquid, carefully draining the glass and struggling forward to pour himself another.

John caught the young man's hand and placed the glass on the table just out of Ianto's reach. "Think you've had enough."

Ianto scowled, drink clouded blue eyes puzzling out the sudden lack of drink. "Not nearly enough," he countered. "Can still hear her. Still hear Lisa screaming, begging me to help her." He leaned back on the couch, eyes closing against the sting of even more tears. "I loved her. I loved him too." His voice grew harder. "Thought there was something there, like there'd been with her. Believed I was more than just his *part time shag*. But Owen was right," he sat up and lunged for the bottle before John could stop him, "and the bastard left without a backward glance. Really meant a lot didn't it, Sir?" He saluted the missing Captain with the bottle and took a long swallow, coughing at the welcome burn.

John reached out and gently pried the bottle from Ianto's hand. "Perhaps he didn't have a choice, Ianto."

Ianto turned and looked at the gentleman beside him. "I wish I could believe that." He shifted, curling in the seat until he faced the handsome pilot. He studied the calm face, once more feeling the pull toward the other man. He reached out and ran trembling fingers down one lightly stubbled cheek. "He left you too," he whispered. "Don't know that I could have."

"He did what he had to do," John reassured, catching the young man's hand in his and stilling its tempting caress.

Ianto leaned closer. "You loved him, too."

John smiled, reaching out and brushing his fingers through Ianto's soft curls. "I didn't know him long enough to find out," he answered honestly.

Ianto leaned into the caress, nuzzling the older man's hand, craving the contact. He placed an open mouthed kiss on John's palm, his tongue tracing the subtle lines and grooves on the skin. The other man's shaky inhalation spurred him onward, making him bolder in his explorations. He licked at the webbing between the calloused fingers before drawing one long digit into his mouth. He suckled carefully, hinting to the other man at his skill, seducing him as best he could with lips and teeth and tongue. He lost himself in the familiar and missed act. He missed this, missed the intimacy, the connection that even this faux fellatio provided. Long fingers carded through his hair, grounding him as he nuzzled and sucked and whimpered for more. A hand cupped his face, holding him still as the finger was drawn from his seeking mouth.

"Ianto. Look at me, sweetheart."

He kept his eyes closed tight, not wanting to lose the fantasy, the connection. Lips pressed against his forehead as fingers once more carded through his hair.

"Open your eyes, Ianto."

He could no longer disobey the gentle command. His eyes opened and he found himself looking into John's concerned blue eyes.

"I won't do this. Not like this," he said softly. "Don't think I don't want you, 'cause I do. But I want you sober and knowing that I'm me and not him." His hands continued to soothe and caress even as he refused what Ianto was offering.

"I... I need..." He didn't even try and fight the tears or the tremors as his body ached for something just out of reach.

John pulled him close, holding Ianto's slender frame tightly against his own. He urged the young man's head to his shoulder, stroking the dark curls and rocking them slowly. "It's gonna be fine, Ianto. And if this is what you want, I'll be more than pleased to say yes. But not like this. Not when you're so raw you can't tell which end is up." He lifted the young man's face, pressing a soft kiss to the tear damp lips. "Not when it's the alcohol and need talking and not your heart."

Ianto nodded, curling into the other man's offered warmth. "Don't leave," he whispered brokenly against John's shirt.

"Not planning to, sweetheart," John promised, his arms tightening around Ianto's shoulders. He sat holding the young man until his body went lax, alcohol and exhaustion pulling him under. Only then did John move, settling him comfortably on the couch and covering him with a blanket before kissing his soft lips. "Pleasant dreams."

Ianto's head was pounding. He shifted and his stomach rolled, his hand immediately went to his mouth as he tried to breathe through the need to expel everything he'd eaten the night before. A large hand supported his back, easing him up and placing a waste-bin near his head.

"Relax and breathe," a deep voice rumbled softly. "It'll pass."

Ianto bit back a whimper as his stomach protested once more. "Kill me?"

John chuckled, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on Ianto's back. "Nope. Not getting outta this that easy, my friend. Least I didn't use pa's remedy. Course you didn't have the right hot peppers anyway."

Ianto's groan was heartfelt as he glared at the smiling Texan. "You are evil."

"Nope. Evil would require *not* having aspirin and water waiting." He held out the chilled plastic bottle and two white tablets. "All the water, but sip it. I've got bread waiting to be toasted as soon as you feel up to it." He ran his hand through Ianto's disheveled curls. "Just take it slow."

Ianto sighed at the caress, smiling as his body relaxed. He shifted up to take the pills, and the world spun. John's arm supported him as his body cramped and he put the waste-bin to good use.

Owen looked up as the Hub door rolled open admitting John and Ianto.

"Ouch," he whispered taking in Ianto's dark glasses and lack of carefully pressed suit. He met them at the desks, taking Ianto's arm and steering him towards the autopsy bay.

"As much as it may feel like it," Ianto drawled, "I'm not dead yet."

Owen chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind. Figured you might want something for that hangover," he said conversationally, holding up a hypodermic. "But if you'd rather suffer..."

Ianto sighed, rolling up his t-shirt sleeve. He winced as the needle slipped into his arm but made no further protest.

The Hub door opened again, admitting Tosh and Seannan, neither looking the worse for wear. Seannan leaned in and whispered something in Toshiko's ear making Tosh's eyes widen and her cheeks flush.

Ianto grimaced, glaring at Seanny over the top of his dark glasses. "I remember now why I hate you," he growled as she moved closer, eyeing him warily.

She grimaced, running a hand through his hair gently. "Sorry? Gonna be okay?"

He shrugged, his lips pulling into a wry smile. "Probably." He leaned against the wall, looking between Owen and Seannan. "I suppose you'll want coffee, then."

"All right, team. We have Rift activity," John called from the upper computer banks. "Andy, Owen, Seannan. Gwen's waiting for you at the SUV. Toshiko, I want a complete scan on what's come through, coordinate with the UNIT team's intelligence. They're the ones that spotted it this time. Ianto, coordinate CCTV and SUV positionings. We don't know what we're dealing with yet and I don't want to risk any of you." He moved behind Tosh, scanning what she was pulling up even as he synched their comm units. "Let's move."

Chapter Eleven

Ianto pulled wearily into the drive-way, glad to be back home. He understood the need for the meetings, the new collaboration between the various agencies making more formal measures and oversights even more important, but he didn't have to like attending the policy meetings. Torchwood still had their autonomy, answering only to the Queen or her immediate agent, but they also liaised with the United Nations and several other 'off world contact' agencies. And, in order to keep from stepping on local or international toes, Torchwood's former "fast and loose" methods of dealing with things had needed to be... adjusted.

He sighed. Perhaps Jack would have been able to sweet-talk his way out of the concessions, but Jack wasn't here so it fell to the rest of them to manage. Luckily, the way things had worked, Ianto doubted any of the other team members would even feel the difference, and he'd only know because he was doing the new paperwork. He knew they were being watched even *more* closely now, though whether in hopes they'd succeed or fail he wasn't entirely sure. But he'd do everything in his power to keep them together and above suspicion.

He left his bags in the car, contenting himself with the knowledge that he, along with Tosh and UNIT recruit Davies, had the next day off to recover from the London meeting and he could bring the bags in later. Idly he wondered if there was anything to eat as he all but sleepwalked down the path to the door and inside.

The smell of cooking spices and the sound of soft Glen Miller music greeted him as he walked in the door. He slid off his shoes, putting them beside John's on the mat beside the door. His jacket was hung next to John's in the closet and he padded towards the heavenly smell of food. He stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching as John, dressed in jeans and a soft blue t-shirt, swayed in time to music as he stirred a pot of something on the stove. The weariness melted away at the sight.

"I didn't know you cooked," Ianto observed quietly.

John turned, smiling brightly at the young man. "I don't. But Rhys knew you'd be hungry when you came in and that I'm worthless when it comes to cooking." He shrugged. "Gwen says he's decided that you and Owen are far too thin and has taken it upon himself to make sure you're both properly looked after," he added with a grin. He motioned Ianto to a chair at the small kitchen table. "It's almost ready."

"How did you...?"

"Toshiko called and told me you were on your way. She was worried about you not making it home as tired as you were," he confided. He rummaged in the refrigerator, bringing out a beer for Ianto and water for himself. "I'd suggest calling to reassure her you got here," his cheeks colored, "but I doubt Ms. Seannan would appreciate being interrupted."

Ianto couldn't help but laugh. For all John's ease with most of the changes in the 21st century, he was still oddly shy about sex. It was endearing really, though Ianto would need to talk to Seanny and remind her not to be quite so forward with their temporally displaced leader. After nearly a month she should know better, but then, she was in love and Seanny never pulled punches when that happened. Ianto wondered if Tosh knew what she was letting herself in for, but judging by the more frequent smiles and the new, more flattering if a bit more revealing, wardrobe, Ianto had a feeling she did. Or at the very least, that she'd be more than up to the task of keeping Seanny in line.

John turned back to the simmering stew, shaking his head. "Was she always so... frank?" he asked.

"She's actually calmed quite a bit," Ianto confided. "Least she's not dragging Tosh off behind the filing cabinets where anyone who's got filing to do can catch an unexpected eyeful."

John spun, eyes wide. "She didn't."

Ianto nodded, sipping his beer before answering. "Several times. Don't worry though, Tosh is a very calming influence."

"Good." He lapsed into silence as he dished up the thick, savory stew, setting the bowls on the table. He cut off two slices of the dense, homemade bread as well, absently handing one to Ianto as he took his own seat at the table.

"I take this," he held up the bread, "to mean it was a rather hectic few days?"

John laughed, pulled from his musings. "Not really. The baking wasn't Torchwood related this time." They'd learned early on that when Rhys was trying to work through something, he baked. The first week after he'd been told about Torchwood, Gwen had brought in three loaves of bread, two cakes, and a large tin of various types of biscuits, which had mysteriously disappeared only to resurface two days later empty except for a typed note requesting more snickerdoodles.

"Really? Then...."

"*His* work apparently."

They continued to talk about the things that had gone on while Ianto, Tosh, and Davies had been gone to London. Ianto filled John in on the meeting, complimenting their new UNIT liaison, Michael Davies, on his skill at maneuvering through military red tape and suggesting he be moved permanently to that position, freeing Toshiko to concentrate on the tech.

Ianto felt the tension of the trip slowly seep away as the warmth of the meal and the ease of the company relaxed him. They finished the meal and then the dishes, Ianto yawning as he hung up the damp dishtowel on its hook to dry. He turned to find John leaning against the doorframe watching him with unexpected tenderness.

"John?"

John moved slowly towards Ianto, worried that the words spoken under the influence of alcohol and loneliness might prove misleading when sober. He reached out and caressed the young man's face, smiling as Ianto unconsciously leaned into the touch. "If I'm wrong," he whispered into the stillness, his breath playing over Ianto's tempting lips, "tell me." He gave the young man a moment, time enough to pull away, to object, before closing the distance between them.

The kiss was gentle, tender, little more than the brush of lips over lips but it shook him to the core. Ianto's lips were still, unresponsive under his and he felt a part of his soul weep as he drew away. He focused on Ianto's open collar, unable to face what he'd find in those expressive blue eyes. "I'm sor..."

His words were swallowed by a hot mouth pressing unexpectedly against his own. Ianto tasted of spice and beer with a lingering hint of the honey he'd drizzled over his bread as dessert. John's arms wrapped around the slender form, holding Ianto close as the kiss went on and on. It was a surprisingly gentle kiss for all its heat, gentler than the kiss he'd shared with James a lifetime ago. That kiss had been all fire and desperation. This kiss was all warmth and need. Yet both threatened to burn him alive.

Long fingers clutched at his shirtfront as Ianto shook, battered by sensation and need. John eased back from the kiss, shifting them to a series of lingering pecks and darting flickers of his tongue, banking the need, giving them both room to breathe. He held Ianto close, unable to miss the hard erection pressing against his hip and finding it more thrilling than frightening. He carded his fingers through silken curls, soothing and comforting the precious man in his arms.

Ianto's arms curled around his waist and John bussed a kiss over the young man's temple reassuringly. He remembered the overwhelming feeling of being in James's arms, the confusing but... right feeling of being held by strong arms and cradled against a broad, flat chest. He'd not wanted to let go. But he had. He'd given his angel back to his duty, back to the light, back to Ianto and the others. He couldn't bring himself to regret the letting go.

"Ianto?" he pleaded softly, unsure whether to apologize or encourage, only knowing he needed to be sure.

Wide blue eyes met his gaze for an instant before Ianto gave a broken whimper and claimed John's lips in a demanding, savage kiss.

John gave over his control easily, loving the feel of the slender body pressed so intimately against his own, of the strong arms holding him captive. The kiss was more familiar now, desperation, need, sorrow wrapped up in white hot desire: a crying angel's kiss. But this wasn't James, or Jack, or whatever name that out of time angel had taken. This was Ianto. His precious protector and teacher, as human as John and not about to walk away to be swallowed by an overwhelming flood of Rift, not Heavenly, light.

Ianto whimpered, clinging to the older man, his body pressing wantonly against the solid heat of John's body. John sighed into the kiss, pressing back, letting his young lover feel the effect he was having on John's body. Ianto broke the kiss, burying his face in the crook of John's neck, nipping and kissing, his breathing harsh as he fought to regain some semblance of control.

John simply held him, caressing the younger man's shoulders and back with unsteady hands. "It's all right," he soothed, turning to nuzzle the dark curls. "It's all right."

"Please mean it. I can't be," Ianto shook in John's embrace. "I wouldn't survive being just an experiment, a part time shag to..."

John lifted the young man's chin, one long finger pressed over the kiss swollen lips. "Never," he swore, sealing the declaration with a passionate kiss.

Ianto's tongue caressed his own and it was John's turn to moan, the sound captured by their joined lips. Ianto pulled away, his hand capturing John's as he walked backwards towards the bedrooms, leading the older man. John followed willingly, trading kisses each time they paused to turn off a light or step around a piece of furniture. They stopped at the door to Ianto's room and the young man searched John's face for a long moment, his hand cupping the handsome face. "Stay with me?"

"It would be my pleasure."

The room was warm, inviting, and John followed willingly as Ianto led him through the door and to the large bed.

Clothing was removed with infinite care, each piece laid reverently over the back of an overstuffed chair until both stood in only their underwear. Ianto removed his first, stopping John's hands as they tried to remove his. "Patience."

John nodded, his eyes roaming the pale body of his soon to be lover. Ianto's cock was hard, the foreskin drawing John's fascinated attention.

Ianto smiled, teasingly stroking the hard flesh as John watched, rapt. "Like what you see?" he asked huskily.

Instead of answering, John stepped into Ianto's body space and wrapped his large hand brazenly around Ianto's shaft. He smirked playfully as the Welshman's eyes fluttered closed and he thrust into the tunnel of their hands. "Very much," he reassured. "Like the feel of it too," he teased, stroking the shaft firmly as he captured Ianto's cries with his lips.

"Bed. Please," his lover begged his long fingers tugging at the waistband of John's briefs. "And naked."

John chuckled, kissing Ianto gently. "Can do, darlin'." His accent was thick and deep, a verbal caress that made Ianto shiver in need. He stepped back and carefully removed his briefs, fighting back the urge to cover his erect manhood, suddenly self conscious.

Ianto caught John's hands, pulling them away, exposing the other man to his gaze. "You're amazing," he whispered. He sank gracefully to his knees before the other man, a steadying hand clutching John's bare hip. He smiled up at the Texan, looking up coyly as he leaned forward and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the head of John's shaft.

Large hands settled on Ianto's shoulders as John inhaled shakily, his grip tightening as he fought the conflicting urges to thrust forward into the heat of Ianto's mouth and to pull away. "You don't have to..." The words were lost as Ianto slowly drew him deeper, his tongue flickering over the nerve rich flesh.

"Oh sweet mother," John whispered, savoring the feel of Ianto's mouth slowly enveloping him. "Ianto." He clutched at the bare shoulders. "I... please." He pushed at the young man, drawing away even as Ianto strove to get closer. "No. No, sweetheart. Not like this," he pleaded, as he fought the base instinct that wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the wet heat.

The troubled tone penetrated Ianto's lust addled brain and he shifted back on his heels, his hands still on the older man's hips. "What's wrong, (love)?"

John stroked Ianto's hair. "I... You needn't do that, sweetheart. I don't need that from you." His face was hot as he berated himself for what he'd almost done to this handsome, generous man.

Ianto studied John's face for a long moment, trying to piece together what he'd done wrong. He rose gracefully, drawing the other man with him to the bed. "Talk to me?" he asked softly, his arms wrapping around the older man.

"Respect you too much to watch you do that, darlin'."

"Do what?" he asked, still not understanding.

"Won't treat you like a cheap floozy, Ianto," John said roughly. "No matter how good it may feel." He turned and looked Ianto in the eyes. "Lo... Care about you too much for that."

Ianto struggled with the urge to laugh, not wanting John to misunderstand his reaction. He hugged John tightly. "Your old fashioned ideals are showing, (love)," he said gently, kissing John before tumbling them back into the bed. He wrapped the older man in his arms, curling around the strong body like a vine. "I enjoy doing that, John," he confided. "I've honestly missed being able to pleasure someone that way." He caught John's chin, turning the blushing man's face towards his own. "But I'll not do it if it upsets you this much."

John sighed, his arms tightening around Ianto. "It's demeaning," he argued. "I won't do that to you."

"It's only demeaning if you make it that way," the younger man countered. "And I know it would never be that way with you." He ran his hand down the broad chest, over the flat stomach until his fingers rested in the wiry curls at the base of his lover's cock. He cupped the heavy balls, massaging them gently as John shifted restlessly under his touch. He ran teasing fingers up the length of John's cock, rubbing a single finger through the clear liquid at the slit and rubbing it over the sensitive head.

"There are more than enough other things we can do," he purred against the other man's skin. "Though we may talk about this again later."

John arched into the touch, shivering in need. "Please, Ianto. Please." His body ached, craving more; more touch, more heat, more of the powerful pleasure those gentle knowing hands coaxed from his body. He shifted in Ianto's grasp until they were chest to chest, their erections rubbing together in delicious friction. His hips pressed forward, thrusting against Ianto's body, earning him a sharp inhale of breath from the other man.

"Soon," Ianto reassured, wrapping a hand around their erections and stroking them slowly. "Relax and trust me to take care of you."

John looked deep into the young man's eyes. "I do," he whispered. He daringly lapped at Ianto's neck, nuzzling the sweat damp skin and enjoying the soft, mewling sounds Ianto made at his touch. They moved in an easy, unhurried rhythm, their bodies delighting in the long denied closeness of another's touch. Ianto thrust into the tight tunnel of his hand, his heated flesh sliding against John's. John slid his hands down Ianto's back, cupping the muscled ass, bringing them closer together as he thrust sharply into Ianto's grasp.

Ianto moaned at the sensation, his hand tightening, coaxing John's arousal higher and higher.

John gripped the pert ass harder, holding the young man tightly as he gave in to the need to thrust harder, faster, his body seeking... more.

Ianto growled, matching John thrust for thrust and silently demanding heated kisses from the willing older man.

The growl made John's cock flex and his body arch as he struggled towards release. He rested his forehead in the crook of Ianto's neck, licking and sucking whatever skin he could reach. The salt-sweat taste exploded over his senses and he knew he was lost. The taste was familiar, comforting, an anchor in the maelstrom of sensations the young man was building in his body. The second growl was louder, more feral and John found himself suddenly turned, pinned beneath his lover's body, Ianto's erection pressing down into his skin. He stilled, suddenly unsure, his naivety and inexperience overwhelming in the face of Ianto's quiet skill.

Gentle fingers caught his chin, turning his face to Ianto's. He closed his eyes, hiding the too expressive orbs from Ianto.

"Look at me, (beloved)," was the firm command, and John knew he was powerless to disobey. He opened his eyes, surprised by the understanding he saw in the blue depths. "Nothing you don't want."

John chuckled breathlessly. "What if I don't rightly *know* what I want?" He rested his trembling hand against Ianto's face, struggling for control. Soft lips pressed against his palm in an achingly familiar way, both needing the reassurance the connection gave.

"Then we start slow and see what happens," Ianto reassured.

John nodded, giving himself over to Ianto's talented hands, riding wave after wave of sensation until he was twisting and moaning in Ianto's arms.

Ianto shifted them, his slighter form pressing John into the soft sheets. He lined up their erections and thrust, his cock skimming over John's, making the older man whimper in need. Ianto kissed him, capturing the helpless little sounds his lover was making and working them both towards release. John shook beneath him, his hands clutching at Ianto's back, scrabbling at the sheets, anything to keep from being overwhelmed.

"It's all right," Ianto whispered, his voice strained and needy. "Let go. I'll catch you."

John cried out as his body spasmed, going bowstring tight before spending in powerful, hip-jerking spurts as the world grayed out around him.

John floated slowly back to awareness, boneless and sated as long fingers brushed over his face and through his sweat damp hair. He blinked, smiling up at his lover.

"You are very good for my ego," Ianto said with a gentle smile.

John sighed. He caught the young man's hand and slowly kissed the back of it. "Sorry 'bout that," he whispered, shifting to his side and reaching for Ianto's groin, only to be stopped by the younger man.

"No need." Ianto's cheek flushed as he shot John a small smile. "You... inspired me."

John's smile grew. "Really? And I missed it." He met Ianto's eyes. "Reckon we'll have to do it again sometime, since I missed it and all."

Ianto chuckled, leaning down and claiming the kiss swollen lips. "Guess we will."

They curled together under the blankets, Ianto wrapped around John, whispering softly in the Texan's ear all the possibilities that lay before them.

Chapter Twelve

"It's a fundraiser," Andy wheedled. "Helping preserve all those historic old sites that managed to survive World War II. Dancing with a live band... a *good* live band." He turned pleading eyes on his coworkers. "Please. It would mean a lot."

"Means that bird he's been chasing after won't realize it's a *date*," Owen muttered sotto voice from behind his computer.

"It's not like that!" the young man protested, turning to Gwen for support. "I really *do* think everyone would have fun. I mean, you and Rhys took dance lessons for this kinda thing. And the Captain's always listening to that type of music, and well," he rubbed a hand nervously over his neck, eyes on the floor. "I might have implied that my mates from work would be there."

"Yes!" Owen leaned back and held out his hand in Michael Davies's direction, collecting the folded notes held out to him.

"Do I need to find something for you to do, Mister Harper?" John intoned from the walkway above, hiding a smile at Owen's squeak and the girls' laughter. It was nice to see the two teams working so well together after only two months. He joined them on the main level, glad to finally be able to take the stairs without fear of his leg giving out. He leaned casually against Toshiko's desk looking at the blushing Andy. "Now, what is this fundraiser you're talking about?" he asked with an encouraging smile.

"This preservation society is holding a Swing Dance next weekend." He handed John a multi-folded flier before nervously stepping back again. Gwen and Tosh smiled at him, urging him to continue as John studied the paper in his hands. "Thought it might be a nice evening out for everyone. Well, everyone that wanted to go anyway. I mean, it's for a good cause and might be fun. Get a chance to dress up fancy and step out a bit?" he finished uncertainly.

Chiranjeevi Bajaj leaned out from behind his work station, pushing his glasses back down on his beaklike nose. "*Please* someone say they'll go with him. I'll work his shift *and* mine for the next two weeks if someone will just *push* him toward that silly woman he's mooning over so he finds out one way or another if she's interested in him."

"Bajee," Tosh scolded as Andy went even redder.

The toxicology tech leaned back in his chair and studied the young former police officer. "Just think the boy could do a lot better than that flighty skirt, is all. Course, what does a confirmed bachelor know?"

Tosh rolled her eyes at the man, then realized that John was unnaturally still beside her. She placed a hand on his arm, breaking his gaze away from the pictures on the flier. "John?"

The older man smiled, his fingers tracing over the picture of a run down house. "It was quite the showplace in its day. Nancy took me by there once, got us the penny tour." He looked up at Tosh, eyes distant. "Didn't even wonder if it had survived all this time, just assumed..."

She rubbed his arm comfortingly. "So why don't we go then? An outing for the team, like one of Rhys's dinner parties. The Rift's been behaving."

He blinked, chuckling softly. "Now you realize you've gone and jinxed that," he teased.

"Have not," she answered back. "So Andy," she said, turning on the relieved young man. "Do we need to let them know we're coming?"

Chapter Thirteen

John stood back and watched the members of his team as they settled around the large, round table. Toshiko was stunning in her silver and black lace gown, her hair twisted up and held by an ornate comb. Seannan, ever the individual, had chosen a cream pant-suit worthy of Katherine Hepburn, with dark piping and a cut that echoed his and Ianto's 1940's RAF uniforms. Seannan's fingers couldn't seem to resist the golden skin revealed by the v-back of Toshiko's dress, and John loved watching Toshiko smile at the tender touch. They really were good for one another.

Rhys and Gwen had gone more civilian, he in a broad-shouldered, double-breasted blue suit and she in a simple black dress with a red belt and cherry red buttons. They wouldn't have been out of place at the Kiss the Boys Goodbye dance in 1940. Rhys's teasing laughter made John smile as Rhys tugged his 'best girl' out on the floor yet again.

Andy, organizer of this little outing, looked a bit uncomfortable in his Infantry uniform as his 'not-date' dragged him from table to table, chatting and being seen. Bajee was right, Andy *could* do better than the little gold digger, but he remembered what it was like being young and in love, so he'd simply keep an eye on them, ready to offer advice and a sympathetic ear when the time came.

Eirlys had changed from their mousy, former police woman, shy archivist into a confident WASP, or Woman Airforce Service Pilot. How could he have known that WASP had a complete different connotation for her? Luckily, she'd forgiven him and had even allowed him the honor of the first dance.

Owen rounded out their merry little group, the Davies and Bajee having volunteered to man the Hub for the evening. He was the only member of the team who'd not tried for costume, opting for dress pants and a button down shirt. But, he *had* joined them and actually seemed to be enjoying himself, dancing with surprising skill with various women and leaving them smiling.

A strong hand settled on his shoulder and he turned to take the offered drink from his "aide de camp" for the evening. Ianto had outdone himself, finding RAF uniforms for them both. John had unzipped the garment bag after his shower and stood, stunned. The blue wool was achingly familiar under his fingers and he'd found himself checking to see if his own mark was on the underside collar. It hadn't been, but other than that missing mark, the outfit was an exact replica of his dress uniform from 1940. The resultant "thank you" had nearly required another shower. He flushed at the memory and the small smile his lover sent his way. He still wasn't entirely sure that Ianto *couldn't* read minds, as it would explain a great deal.

Ianto wrapped his arm around John's waist and leaned close. "You simply have a very expressive face, Sir," he teased, making John shake his head in amusement.

"Dance with me," he asked gently.

Ianto flushed, looking away. "I... I'm afraid I don't dance very well, Sir."

John lifted the young man's chin. "Then it's about time you learn, don't you think?" he asked. He steered them towards the table, setting first his, then Ianto's drink down. He listened as the band began the next song, sighing as the rapid tempo precluded a simple lesson. He pressed a gentle kiss to Ianto's temple, still surprised at the freedom he had to do so. "Next slow song," he promised, pulling out a chair for the younger man. Ianto nodded, settling into the chair beside Toshiko.

"Well, Captain Sir" Seanny offered, standing behind Tosh's chair, "since our partners aren't up to it." She held out her hand. "Shall we show these amateurs how it's done?"

John took the offered hand, kissing the back of it gallantly. "It would be an honor." He led her to the dance floor and quickly, the two were moving in the intricate steps of the fast swing dance.

Rhys held his hand out to Gwen. "Dance?"

"Can I sit this one out?" she asked with a tired smile.

Rhys's face fell but he settled easily beside her, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it as he'd seen John do. The resultant blush made him grin and do it again.

"Oi," Owen protested, his brown eyes sparkling with mirth. "You lot are worse than Teaboy and John. Cut it out."

"Jealous?" Rhys asked. He reached out and playfully caught Owen's hand, pressing a loud wet kiss to the back of it.

"*HEY*!" Owen growled, pulling his hand back and wiping it on his slacks. "That was uncalled for." He looked at Gwen. "Can't you keep him under control?" he asked with a small grin.

The woman shook her head. "Nope. You're welcome to try if you think you can manage it."

Owen rolled his eyes. "Just need to wear him out more," he shot back with a comical leer.

"So, wear him out," Gwen countered, her eyes challenging.

Owen blinked, stunned, as was the rest of the table.

Gwen studied them, blushing as she realized what she'd implied. "*Dancing*," she amended. "Wear him out *dancing*! You're both good, and we know that the two of you dancing together won't look odd," she gestured out to the mixed couples on the dance floor, gay and straight. "And he still wants to dance and, by the way you're shifting around, so do you. So... wear each other out and leave the rest of us in peace," she finished with a grin. "Unless you don't think you can keep up with him."

"Gwen!" Rhys protested. "Play nice." He looked over at the other man, trying to read his reaction to Gwen's suggestion. Mentally shrugging, he rose and held out his hand. "So, gonna dance with me then?"

Owen looked at the offered hand, then at the man offering it. He shrugged, taking it and rising. "I lead."

"You do not," Rhys said evenly. "I asked, I lead."

"So if *I* ask you for the next dance then *I* get to lead?"

Rhys nodded as he led the slender man out onto the dance floor and took him into his arms, internalizing the quick beat.

"Then next dance is mine," Owen said with a smug grin, settling himself to follow the other man's lead.

"Fair enough," Rhys agreed, then with a grin, spun the other man out and back with a flourish.

They moved together easily, Owen following Rhys's lead in the quick, intricate steps. They spun around the dance floor, laughing at slight stumbles or when Owen would come back with a leading move instead of a follow. The music ended, leaving both men smiling and slightly out of breath. "Next one's mine," Owen smirked, shifting their hands so that he could lead. They waited for the music, eyes locked, each silently challenging the other to look away first. The bandleader raised his baton, and the men grinned in anticipation. The opening chords were familiar, but not enough to place the next number... until the slow strains of "Sentimental Journey" filled the air.

Owen sighed, moving to pull away... only to be held captive by Rhys's hand on his shoulder.

"Don't tell me you're backing out now," the man teased with a smile. "I mean, you did demand the next dance. Can't just abandon me on the dance floor."

Owen chuckled, shaking his head as he wrapped an arm around Rhys's waist. "Yeah yeah. Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation by leaving you wanting."

Rhys stumbled at the innuendo-laden comment, staring into Owen's brown eyes in surprise. "Yeah," he echoed. "Wouldn't want that." He followed the other man around the dance floor, enjoying the skill and the feel of the strong, if still too thin, arm holding him close.

Owen watched as the other team members made their excuses, each pairing off and heading out to their respective beds. Even shy little Eirlys was leaving with the heart-broken Andy who'd been dumped by the tart he'd come with in favor of the ex-boyfriend she'd been trying to make jealous.

"Looking for a partner?"

Owen looked up at the husky, feminine voice. She was delicate and dark haired, the deep purple velvet of her gown accentuating her milk pale skin. Two diamond broaches slid low on the straps, pulling the fabric tight and offering tantalizing glimpses of the firm, snowy globes of her breasts. Her brown eyes were dark, searching his face in quiet invitation. He rose from his chair and bowed gallantly over her hand, raising it to his lips for a chaste kiss. "I'd be honored."

He led her to the dance floor, grateful for the slower tempo of the music, which let him pull her lithe body against his own as they moved around the floor. He wasn't surprised when her elegant fingers began to toy with the hairs at the nape of his neck. "Looking for more than just a dance?" he asked, his tone making it clear he wasn't opposed to the idea.

Her smile was coy, her eyes sparkling. "I knew you'd understand," she whispered, pressing her body more firmly against his. "But you should know what you're getting into," she added. She gently urged him to turn. "The handsome gentleman in the tuxedo there in the corner?" Owen nodded that he'd spotted the man in question. "That's my husband." Her arm held him close as he tried to pull away. "Easy," she soothed, her hand carding through his hair as she kissed his cheek. "He asked me to approach you. He was... impressed with the way you handle yourself and would like to see more, if you're so inclined. He wants to see if your... private dancing is as skilled as your public."

Owen looked at the older man. He was attractive, his eyes hopeful as he watched them dance. "Does he..."

"Oh no," she quickly interrupted, "he simply likes to watch." She traced her nail lightly over the back of Owen's neck. "It would just be you and me... dancing."

Owen was actually a bit disappointed at the news. The man had broad shoulders, and Owen wouldn't mind seeing what he looked like under that expensive and carefully tailored tux. He'd been wondering if the man preferred to Top or Bottom, but apparently he did neither. But as the woman pressed her firm breasts against his chest, the disappointment gave way to anticipation. She looked up at him, all but begging for a kiss, and who was he to disappoint a lady? He kissed her, his thin lips teasing hers open with patient skill. Her arms tightened around his shoulders as she relaxed, pliant in his arms. He smiled against her lips, pulling back slowly. "Owen," he purred.

"Tesni," she answered. "And my husband is Alun. We've a room not far from here." She took his hand and led him from the dance-floor to where her husband sat waiting.

Owen shook the older man's hand as Tesni curled around him, her manicured fingers toying with the front of his shirt as her husband watched them with hot, needy eyes. And if he was a bit too thin, and her smile wasn't quite gap-toothed enough, at least they were warm and willing and didn't make his heart ache when he saw them looking at each other.

Alun stood and leaned in to kiss his wife before settling her fur-trimmed cape around her shoulders. He wrapped his arm around her, his hand carefully grazing Owen's side as they walked through the remaining dancers and out into the cool Welsh night.

"Why is it you lot always go for the bad-boys?" Andy asked sullenly. "Nice guys like me, we get left for the ex-boyfriend who's probably got a list of crimes to his name."

Eirlys just barely refrained from rolling her eyes as she watched her cute co-worker continue to bemoan the state of the female of the species. She sipped at her own beer and shared a knowing smile with the waitress who brought them a plate of chips and another ale for Andy. "Not all women are like that, Andy," she countered softly.

"All the smashing ones are," he muttered, taking a deep swallow of his drink.

It took everything Eirlys had not to dump the remainder of her beer over the handsome but clueless young man's head.

"What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a disreputable place like this?"

Tosh shivered as her girlfriend's breath ghosted over her bare neck. "Are you implying my bedroom is disreputable?" she teased, her eyes meeting Seanny's in the mirror. Seanny's fire-red curls were still smoothed into the 1940's style she'd worn to the dance, but her elegant pantsuit had been replaced by a comfortable silk robe.

Seanny's eyes crinkled at the question, and she nipped at Tosh's shoulder. "It could be," she promised against the heated skin. Her hands skimmed up Tosh's bare arms, her long fingers teasing under the simple lace sleeves. She pressed herself to her lover's back, sighing at the warmth the smaller woman gave off. "You were the most beautiful woman there tonight," she whispered, nipping at Tosh's ear. "Beautiful, poised, sophisticated. I was the envy of every person there." She wrapped her long arms around the slender form, hugging her tightly. "Thank you." She saw the disbelief on the other woman's face. "Let me show you what I see?" she asked hesitantly as she met Tosh's uncertain gaze in the mirror.

The Asian woman nodded.

Seanny's hands were gentle as she slid down the zipper of the beautiful dress, exposing the even more beautiful skin underneath. Her lips pressed soft kisses from the nape of Tosh's neck, down her spine, anointing each new bit of skin that the parting fabric revealed. She eased the silver sheath off Tosh's shoulders, following the slick fabric and soft lace with her hands. She let the bodice drop, exposing the other woman's deep cut lace bra. She cupped the pert breasts, her thumbs teasing the peaking nipples as Tosh arched into the touch. "Do you have any idea how stunning you are, Toshiko Sato?" she breathed into Tosh's ear. "Open your eyes and look. Look at the beautiful woman staring back at you."

Tosh shook in her arms and Seanny chuckled deeply, hugging the woman tightly. "Haven't even really started yet, sweetheart," she purred. "I intend to worship you like the embodiment of the Goddess that you are." She slid back, her hands ghosting over Tosh's ribs and up her back, deftly undoing the bra and easing it from Tosh's body, leaving the woman bare from the waist up. She once more cupped the other woman's breasts, shielding them with her hands as the tight nipples pressed into her palms. She licked up the length of Tosh's bared shoulder and neck. "Goddess but you're beautiful, Toshiko Sato." The Asian woman shook her head, protesting, only to be stopped by Seanny's teeth gently biting at her neck. "Yes you are. Don't argue with me," Seanny growled. "You *know* I'm always right."

Tosh chuckled, the sound breathless and joyful.

Seanny couldn't stop her own matching smile at the sound. "That's better," she praised. "I say you're beautiful and that's that." She moved around her lover, drawing the smaller woman into a warm embrace and a heated kiss. Her hands caught the zipper and eased it the rest of the way down, opening the dress enough that it slid to the floor at Tosh's feet. Seanny cupped her lover's bum, using it to draw them closer together, earning her a protesting squeak from Tosh. "What?" she asked innocently, one leg pressing between Tosh's legs and pressing against the damp silk that covered the woman's heat.

"You *know* what," Tosh protested, but didn't move away, instead grinding her sex against the offered firmness.

Seanny chuckled, her skillful fingers sliding beneath the full-cut tap pants and garter belt to tease at the crease of Tosh's ass.

Tosh moaned, her arms clutching at Seanny even as she looked up and demanded a kiss. She wasn't disappointed, Seanny's mouth meeting and claiming hers as their hips shifted in need.

Seanny drew back from the kiss, easing the thin black silk knickers down over the stocking clad thighs, following them to the floor. She knelt there, nuzzling Tosh's exposed and lace-framed crotch. The musky scent made her shiver, the feel of the silk stockings made her long for more. She tapped Tosh's ankle and steadied her lover as she stepped out of the confining silk and the puddle of the dress. She sat back on her heels, looking up at the stunning creature before her clad in only a garter belt and stockings.

She unbelted her own robe and slid it from her shoulders, leaving her kneeling naked before Tosh like an acolyte before the Great Mother. She kissed her way up the inside of the other woman's leg, moaning as the firm thighs shifted wider for her. She pressed a chaste kiss to the silken curl at the apex of the thighs, ignoring, for the moment, the temptation to sample the nectar offered. She instead continued to kiss up the flat stomach, the smooth torso, nuzzling between the pert breasts as she rose from the floor.

She sampled the tempting collarbone, the swan-like neck, and nipped at the naked earlobe. "Goddess but you're beautiful," she whispered. She reached up and pulled the combs and pins from Tosh's hair, dropping them to the floor with the dress. She ran long fingers through the soft strands, massaging Tosh's scalp and urging the beautiful hair to once more fall around and frame the beautiful face.

She kissed Tosh, savoring the warmth and taste of her lover, only pulling away when the need for oxygen became too great. She silenced her lover with a press of her finger to the kiss swollen lips then moved to stand behind the shorter woman once more. "Look at yourself, sweetheart," she urged, lifting Tosh's chin so she was looking in the mirror.

Tosh's cheeks were pink with embarrassment, her eyes sparkling with lust and heavy lidded, her lips damp and plump from Seanny's kisses. Her bare breasts were firm, their tips swollen and inviting, like ripe berries waiting to be savored. Her body was firm, the years of serving in the field with Torchwood Three having maintained an athletic but still feminine physique. A black lace garter belt settled low on her hips, offsetting the golden tone of her skin and drawing the eye to the nest of dark curls that shielded her most intimate treasures. Pale silk stockings encased the short but wonderfully shapely legs.

"You're breathtaking," Seanny whispered, "and you're mine." She brushed aside the silken hair and nipped at Tosh's neck. "I want you. I've wanted you from the moment I saw you, walking down that hallway with Dusty, smiling at whatever he'd said. You were... unforgettable." She wrapped her arm around the shorter woman and traced slow circles over her skin, making no attempt to hide the destination of her questing fingers. "I wanted to take you home and learn every *inch* of your skin, learn what made you whimper and moan and writhe." Her fingers slid into her lover's curls, cupping the wet heat with her palm. "And now I know... and all I want to do is *keep* learning about you. What makes you laugh, what makes you cry."

Her finger traced over the slick slit, smiling as the folds opened for her, blooming at her touch and inviting her in. She teased at the folds, dampening her fingers before drawing her touch upward to the erect button of Tosh's clit. "I want to show you how beautiful you are to me. How much you scare me and excite me and make me complete." She ran her finger over the hard nub in firm but gentle strokes as she cradled the woman's shuddering form against her chest. "Look at us, Toshiko," she urged as she sped up her strokes, loving the way the other woman mewled and shifted in her arms. "Look how perfectly you fit in my arms, how amazingly beautiful you are in your passion."

Tosh's muttered pleas of more and yes and harder were answered by Seanny's knowing touch. Tosh watched them in the mirror, hardly believing that the wanton, wild creature was her, though the fire-haired beauty behind her looked like an ancient Celtic goddess made flesh. She shivered in her lover's arms. "Seanny. Seanny please," she begged, meeting the woman's need-dark eyes in their reflection. "Want to hold you. Please."

Seanny chuckled, a deep, wicked sound as she shifted and thrust her long fingers deep into Tosh's slick heat. "Soon. Want to see you come first. Want to hold you and watch you ride out the storm in my arms. Please, Toshiko. Please let me do this for you. Want you to see how amazing you are."

The last bit of Tosh's control broke at the husky plea and she keened as her body shook with need, reaching for that last touch that would send it over. She forced herself to watch the mirror, *needing* to see what Seanny saw, what drew the amazing woman to someone like her. Their eyes met in the mirror and she felt the connection like a gunshot. Love, lust, passion, need... all shone in Seanny's expressive face. She looked at herself through her lover's eyes, the sweat damp hair, the wide, need blown eyes, the parted lips, the needy and open expression as they looked in each other's eyes. Was this what Seanny saw?

"That and more, sweetheart," Seanny reassured, startling Tosh out of her introspection. "That and more."

The quiet affirmation, and a firm thrust of Seanny's long fingers deep inside her, sent Tosh over the edge with a broken cry. She slowly drifted back to Earth held secure in her lover's arms.

"Rhys," Gwen hissed as she batted at her fianc�'s hands.

He grinned unrepentantly up at her from the step below. "Just checking to make sure your seams are still straight," he said with a comical waggle of his eyebrows and another clutch at her bum.

She glared at him, stepping up another stair on her way to their apartment. "Can't have seams with no stockings on, you," she scolded. "And you're going to make me fall."

Rhys looked hurt, his hand coming to rest on his suit clad chest. "Like I'd let you fall."

"No," she said with a wide, knowing smile. "You'd just send us both tumbling backwards down the stairs. And I'm *not* going to explain that to John."

Rhys surged forward, pinning her to the wall with a laugh and stealing a deep, passionate kiss. He rubbed noses with her playfully, his body pressing against hers deliberately, his intentions clear.

"There are children in this building," a shrill voice sounded from above them on the stairs.

Gwen pressed her face against Rhys' shoulder, trying to keep from laughing.

"(And if they're still wandering the stairs at 1am, then they deserve what they see)," Rhys' whispered to Gwen, his Welsh low and unheard by the elderly woman scowling at them, earning him a glare and a stifled laugh from his love. "Sorry, Ms. Turner," he answered a bit louder.

"You should be. Getting up to all manner of mischief out where anyone could see," she complained as she and her little rat terrier made their way down the stairs past the amused couple. "In my day..." she began.

"I know, Ms. Turner," Rhys cut in quickly, moving away from Gwen and shooing her up the stairs. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Turner. We'll just be taking ourselves up to our flat then." He hurried up after Gwen, waving at the elderly woman over his shoulder. "Good night, Ms. Turner."

He jogged up the stairs after his girl, enjoying the way the black cotton dress clung to her curves. He caught her just as she was unlocking the door and pressed himself against her back, his hand over hers turning the key and letting them tumble into the apartment. "Old busy body," he growled against Gwen's neck. "Forgotten what it was like in *her* day. Bet she'd have been *just* as scandalous," he complained between nipping kisses to Gwen's neck and shoulders.

Gwen's laughter echoed around the apartment as she turned in his arms. "You are incorrigible," she scolded with a smile and a quick kiss.

"And you love me for it," he countered, grabbing her ass and pulling her against him. "Been wanting to get you out of that dress all evening." His fingers caressed her bum and her back as he enjoyed the feel of her pressed so close. His body responded, hardening in the loose slacks as he rubbed against her.

"*RHYS*!" Her eyes widened as she pushed away from him. "These have to go back tomorrow. No getting... fluids on them," she said through her giggles.

"Oh, right," he answered, face going all serious. He carefully took off the double breasted jacket, laying it over the back of a chair. He kicked of his shoes next, leaving them by the same chair and then stripping off his belt. His hands went to the fly of the pants, opening them as he locked eyes with her.

She raised an eyebrow in challenge as she undid the narrow red belt on her dress, laying it over a chair and undoing the two, bright red buttons that held the bodice of her dress closed.

Rhys wiggled his eyebrows as he watched her, then in a quick move, pushed off both the slacks and his underwear, stepping out of them. He turned his back to her before bending down to retrieve the items from the floor, adding a cheeky little wiggle as he winked at her over his shoulder.

She shook her head in disbelief at his display, laughing at his playful antics even as she undid the side buttons and let the dress unwrap from around her.

Rhys draped the borrowed pants over the back of the chair, standing before his lover in only his own white shirt and a pair of dark dress socks. He walked toward her, loving the way she looked at him even after all they'd been through. "I love you, Gwen Cooper," he said seriously. He parted the dress, revealing her tempting form.

"And I love you, Rhys Williams," she answered back.

Together they removed her dress, carefully laying it with Rhys's clothes, exchanging heated kisses and teasing caresses. She wrapped around his back, pressing her naked breasts against his cotton clad back, loving the friction. He sighed, shifting against her and making her moan. She reached around him and caught his nipples between her fingers, pinching them through the fabric until he gasped.

"You're going ta be the death of me, woman," he growled, making no move to shift out of her grasp.

"But what a way to go," she answered cheekily, nipping at his neck.

"Woman," he warned, his cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat.

"Race you." She let go of his nipples and darted for the bedroom. She could hear him behind her and she squealed as his arms caught her around the waist and lifted her off the floor. "Rhys!" She squirmed in his grasp, not really trying to get loose, but not wanting to go *too* easily.

"Nope." He shifted his grasp, keeping her just off the floor and directing her towards the bedroom. "You started it, but *I* intend to finish it," he mock threatened.

She wiggled, shifting around to wrap her arms around his neck. "Don't you dare hurt your back," she warned. "Because I have plans for you."

He grinned. "Oh really? Do tell," he urged as they entered the bedroom and Rhys let her down just long enough to turn on one of the side lamps.

"Rather show you," she teased cheekily, her fingers hooking in her red panties and sliding them down her hips. She stood, unashamedly naked before his appreciative gaze.

"I like the way you think, Ms. Cooper," he said, his eyes on hers.

She strolled towards him, her fingers slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest and leaving him bare before her. She cupped his face and drew him in for a deep kiss, her tongue lapping teasingly at his lips until he opened for her and gave himself over to her touch. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling them together, pressing them bare skin to bare skin, making both of them moan in need.

She tugged him forward, leading him to the bed. She kept a hold of his hand, their fingers twined together as she shifted back onto the mattress. He took the silent invitation, lying across her body, cradled by her strong limbs. She held him close, her legs wrapping around his hips, shifting at the feel of his cock teasing at her sex. She stilled as Rhys's cockhead parted her lips. "Please," she whispered.

With a slow, steady push Rhys slid into her, finding the connection they both craved. Neither moved, just enjoying the sensations. They exchanged lazy kisses as they both struggled to maintain their control, fighting the little shivers of need to stretch the moment out even more. Rhys's body surrendered first, his hips pressing forward, burying him just a fraction deeper in Gwen's heat. She whimpered and clutched at him, her fingers clawing at his back, urging him on now that the moment had come.

He thrust deep, loving the way she cradled him so intimately. Her soft mewls of need spurred him on, and he ducked his head to suckle her breasts, ratcheting her arousal one level higher.

She wrapped around him, clutching him close as her hips matched him thrust for powerful thrust. Her hands clawed at his back, her legs tightened around his hips. "Please, (love). Please."

He burrowed a hand between her back and the mattress, lifting her that last little bit, tilting her hips upward so he could thrust deeper, claiming her. She clutched at him, keening out her need as her body wound tighter and tighter. He kissed her, capturing the sounds as his own body strove for release. Her body tightened around him as she cried out, and he followed her over into release.

He trembled with the effort not to collapse on top of her, waiting for her eyes to open, to see him. She smiled, playfully shoving at him, toppling him on to the mattress without a word. He landed with an indignant "oof" and rolled to stare at her. She rolled her head to the side, grinning at him, with sated, happy eyes. "Round one," she teased.

"Oh really?" he answered with a matching grin. "Planning on more than one, are we?"

She turned, her hand roaming over Rhys's chest, trailing down to tease at his lax genitals, making him hiss and arch into her touch. "Counting on it."

He rolled, his fingers finding her ribs even as his lips found hers, swallowing her laughter.

John carefully hung the wool RAF jacket on the wooden suit hanger along with the carefully creased pants. He smoothed the blue wool until it hung regulation perfect. Ianto had outdone himself, especially on such short notice. The dress blues had matched John's 1940's uniform down to the last button and rank insignia and had fit John perfectly. But then, this *was* Ianto, the new Intelligence officer at Torchwood Three, the man who could find damn near anything given enough time.

He ran his fingers over the uniform's lapels one last time, savoring the familiar feel. He was going to regret having to give it up, to send it back to wherever his lover had managed to rent it from. He sighed resignedly. He retrieved the garment bag the uniform had arrived in and settled it over the clothing. He hesitated at zipping the bag closed, feeling like he was losing one more piece of himself with the act. It was a foolish sentiment, he knew, but still... However, his place was here now, with his team, his young lover, the very people who'd taken him in and given him a purpose in this strange new world. He wouldn't give up his odd, makeshift family for all the uniforms in the world. He caressed the wool one last time and zipped the bag closed.

Strong arms wrapped around his waist and familiar lips pressed against the back of his neck. He relaxed in his lover's embrace, tilting his head to allow the younger man freer access to the sensitive skin. The young man murmured in contentment, latching onto the offered flesh and worrying it, careful not to mark where it couldn't be hidden. It was something the young man enjoyed, and John was coming to understand the fascination. There was something viscerally pleasing about seeing your mark on your lover's pale skin.

As abruptly as it had begun, the sensual assault ended. John shivered, inhaling deeply as his lover leaned back to inspect the resultant mark. "Good enough for now?" he teased, looking at his lover over his marked shoulder.

Tender fingers ghosted over the warm mark, making John hiss at the flood of sensation narrowed into the small patch of skin. "For now," his lover answered easily, pressing a feather-light kiss to the mark.

John turned in the circle of Ianto's arms and offered his lips for a deeper version of the same. It was granted without hesitation, mobile lips moving over his in a sensual caress. Ianto's bare chest pressed against John's, causing the older man to shiver with need. John's fingers threaded through the shower damp curls as he urged the kiss deeper, holding the young man still as he plundered the willing mouth.

Long fingers dug into his back, sliding down the bare skin to clutch at John's boxer clad ass, kneading the firm globes as the kiss went on and on. Ianto thrust against John, whimpering into the kiss as their covered cocks teasingly bumped against one another. He shifted his grip, sliding his hands under the thin cotton boxers and cupping warm, naked flesh. "God but you feel wonderful," Ianto whispered hotly.

John chuckled, nipping at the young man's lips. "So was there somethin' ya wanted, Mr. Jones?" he teased. "Or were ya just here for the kisses?"

Ianto thrust his hips sharply forward, earning a quiet moan from his lover. "More than just your kisses, I think," he said with a knowing smirk. "Though the kisses are wonderful as well."

John nodded his thanks, smile widening at the compliment. "So what exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Ianto Jones?" he asked, his fingers carding through the soft curls as they held each other close. Ianto kissed his cheek, then laid his head on the broad, unmarked shoulder.

"Think you're up to something... new?" he asked hesitantly.

John thought for a moment, knowing his young lover expected him to answer honestly. Their relationship had been an eye opening one for John, a series of enjoyable firsts shared with a tender and patient young lover. He looked into serious blue eyes and smiled. "I think I could be persuaded."

Ianto's smile was brilliant and John knew he'd made the right choice. He drew the young man close and claimed another slow, sensual kiss.

Ianto eased John's boxers off his hips, letting them slide to the floor as he continued kissing the older man. John stepped out of the fallen fabric and calmly removed Ianto's towel, leaving them both naked and clearly aroused. Ianto reached out and stroked John's cock, smiling as the other man gasped and thrust into the touch. "To the bed, (love)," he urged.

John obeyed eagerly, his hand still clutching Ianto's, drawing the other man with him. He sat on the edge of the bed. "How d'ya want me, sweetheart?" he asked, arms sliding around Ianto's waist and settling the young man between his spread thighs.

"On your back in the center of the bed," the young man urged, his fingers sliding through John's short hair. He pressed a soft kiss to the center of the older man's forehead. "I want to feel you inside me tonight," he informed John quietly.

John was stunned. He, theoretically, knew what was required, thanks to the internet and the wonderful "search engine" function that Tosh had taught him how to use when he'd first come through the Rift. He'd spent many nights reading and researching, wanting to be able to please his more experienced lover, wanting to have at least *some* idea of what two men could do together. But theory and practical experience were two very different things. He still didn't see how such a thing could be pleasurable, but apparently it was. And, technically, it wasn't *all* that different from what a man and a woman could do, it just required... a bit more preparation and patience. Long fingers caught his chin, lifting his face so he could look into Ianto's concerned gaze.

"You can say no," he reassured. "There are *plenty* of other, extremely pleasurable things we can do besides that. Some gay couples go their entire relationship without ever engaging in this." He kissed John reassuringly. "I won't feel slighted if you aren't comfortable."

John silenced the objections with a deep, heartfelt kiss. "Not sayin' no, sweetheart" he answered honestly. "Just not sure what ya need from me." He glanced down at his erect cock. "Well, other than the obvious," he teased with a wink.

His lover shook with surprised laughter. "I've created a monster," Ianto joked, leaning in for another kiss. His arms settled around John's shoulders, playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. "I just need for you to lay back and let me make love to you," he finally answered.

"I can do that," John promised. He unwound himself from around Ianto and scooted further onto the bed, settling on his back in the center of the soft mattress and waiting for his lover to join him.

Ianto smiled at the amazing man lying so trustingly on their bed. He crawled onto the bed, stalking forward on hands and knees until he was face to face with the other man. John's smile was bright as he reached up and drew Ianto into a kiss. They took several minutes exchanging slow, tender kisses, Ianto kneeling beside the larger man as John propped himself up on his elbows to reach the young man's lips. Ianto shifted the kisses across John's face, along his arched neck, urging John back onto the pillows as he continued down the broad chest. He licked at John's nipples, biting at them playfully as John's hand caressed his back. He smiled coyly up at John, rubbing his light stubble over the smooth skin, making the older man groan and arch into the abrasive touch. He chuckled at the needy tone, kissing the reddened skin before continuing the journey down the long body.

He lapped at John's flat stomach, his tongue tracing circles and swirls over the warm flesh. The flyer's long fingers alternated between clutching at Ianto's back and carding restlessly through the Welshman's curls. Ianto followed the light trail of golden brown hair down the man's abdomen to the impressive length of his erect cock. He nuzzled the erection, licking up the shaft delicately as he soothed his hands over the Texan's hips. It still wasn't an act that John was completely comfortable with, but at least he'd finally conceded that it wasn't degrading in Ianto's mind for him to do this for John; quite the opposite, really.

Ianto wrapped his hand around the thick shaft, drawing it away from John's body and lapping at the pearl of pre-come on the tip of the organ. He savored the unique, salty flavor of John's essence, so different than other lovers' he'd had. He always wondered if it had something to do with the less preservative- and chemical-laden life John had led before falling through the Rift.

Ianto lowered his head, taking the erect shaft deeper into his mouth, enjoying the weight of the throbbing cock against his tongue. He suckled the shaft, loving the quiet, needy sounds that fell from John's lips, encouraging each new touch and lick and suck. Ianto reluctantly pulled away from the delectable treat, only managing by focusing on what was to come. He shifted around, moving to straddle the older man's legs. "Are you still sure?" he asked quietly, earning him a breathless chuckle.

"I'm all yours, darlin'," John swore, an unsteady hand reaching for Ianto. "What do I do?"

"Hand me the lubricant?" Ianto asked with a shy smile.

John shifted, making sure to graze the young man's balls as he turned and stretched to the bedside table. He smirked at the shivering intake of breath the move earned him and made a point to repeat the move as he shifted back. His smile was deceptively innocent as he handed the small tube to his scowling lover.

Ianto simply shook his head, unable to stay irritated with his playful lover. He squeezed some of the cool gel onto his fingers, taking a moment to warm it before carefully slathering it over John's erection. He coated the thick shaft, enjoying the feel of it in his palm and anticipating the feel of it stretching him open.

He moved forward, straddling John's narrow hips and meeting the wide blue eyes watching his every move. He smiled reassuringly at the older man, loving the feel of John's hands soothing over his thighs. He lifted up, using his hand to position the slick shaft, teasing the head between his cheeks, spreading a bit more lubricant on his already prepped arse. He shuddered at the feel of the blunt head finding his opening, pressing back, willing his body to relax for the welcome intruder.

John's hands closed over his hips, stilling his downward movement. "Ianto," he warned. "Not gonna hurt ya like that, sweetheart. Know there's more that needs to be done." He blushed but kept eye contact with the more experienced young man. "May not a done it before, but I know ya need stretched and prepped before ya try 'n take me."

Ianto smiled, leaning down and claiming the blushing man's mouth in a wild, passionate kiss.

"It's fine. I swear," he reassured, whispering against John's lips. "Took care of it in the bathroom." He caught John's hand and drew it between his spread legs, letting John feel the slickness.

It was Ianto's turn to gasp as a John slid a thick finger past the relaxed muscle into Ianto's slickened heat. "Oh God, John." He thrust against the invading digit, eyes closing as he focused on the unexpected sensation.

John drew Ianto closer, pressing his finger into the young man's body slowly, carefully. He thrust experimentally, pleased by the ease with which the finger breached the amazing heat.

Ianto whimpered, riding the finger, letting John do as he would. "Another," he begged. "Please."

John levered himself up on his elbow and complied. One finger was withdrawn and replaced with two, making Ianto shiver around John's touch. The older man was surprised at how... normal the action felt, how intimate and natural it seemed when he looked at the sheer pleasure reflected on his lover's face. He held his hand still as Ianto thrust down on his fingers, an intimate hint at what was to come. His own cock throbbed in anticipation of the tight heat. He smiled as Ianto looked down at him, his fair features flushed, his blue eyes dark with need.

He lifted off of John's fingers, moving the older man's hand and letting it rest against his thigh. He carefully cradled John's cock, holding the shaft still as he moved back, easing the broad head into the slick heat of his relaxed body. The delicious burn, the long-missed stretch of muscle. Ianto sighed, his breath hitching as he pushed back, forcing the head of John's cock past the guardian muscles and into his body.

He stilled, letting his body adjust, letting them both catch their breath. He looked down at his lover, offering him a blissful smile as he threaded their fingers together. It took him a moment to realize that John was holding his breath, his body trembling as he fought to remain completely still. "(Love)," he called quietly, his voice as unsteady as John's grip on his hand. "Love," he called again in English. "Breathe."

John inhaled, chest expanding as he took in the amazing sight of Ianto astride him. The grip on his cock was tight, hot, more intense than anything he'd ever experienced. "Damn." He tightened his grip on Ianto's hand, anchoring himself to the young man as he struggled to relax, to give his lover whatever he needed.

Ianto chuckled, making both men moan. "Yeah," he answered, breathlessly.

He shifted, lowering himself further onto the thick cock, sighing at the shifting feeling of fullness, completion. "God, John." He lifted up, biting back a whimper as the cock shifted within him. He clutched at John's hand, locking eyes with the older man as he relaxed his body and let gravity pull him down. He watched John's eyes widen, felt his own breath rush from his lungs at the sensation of being filled so fully. He rested against the solid body, smiling as the long legs bent behind him, offering him support as they both panted through the overwhelming connection.

"I didn't know," John whispered. He rubbed his hands over Ianto's legs, resisting the urge to clasp the dark erection framed so lovingly by Ianto's strong thighs.

"We've only just started," Ianto countered with an impish grin. He levered himself up then pressed back down, starting a slow, deliberate rhythm of rise and fall.

John's hands shifted to Ianto's waist, assisting as best he could as he struggled not to thrust into the tight heat, afraid of hurting his lover.

"Please, John," Ianto whispered. "Move."

As if he'd been simply waiting for permission, John thrust upward as Ianto pressed down. Both men hissed at the powerful sensations. Free now to move, John began to thrust into the tight heat, losing himself in the feel of the young man's body clutching at his own. He knew he wasn't going to last long, not with the overwhelming need racing through his body.

Ianto's cock was dark with blood, the foreskin retracted, the head glistening with moisture. He wrapped his hand around the shaft, spurred on by the full-body shiver that passed through his young lover. He stroked in counterpoint to their thrusts, loving the way Ianto responded to his touch, the quiet whimpers, the involuntary twitches, the breathless entreaties in English and Welsh and other languages he couldn't hope to comprehend.

He let his own rapidly spiraling arousal dictate his movements, watching Ianto carefully with each increase in tempo and powerful thrust. Just as he feared his control would be broken, Ianto threw back his head, his body frozen in silent release. Warm fluid spurted over his fingers, the muscles around his cock tightening in time with the minute thrusts.

"Oh, Ianto," he breathed out, his body shaking in need, but he didn't want to miss a second of the young man's beautiful release.

The young man's hands clutched at John's waist, his bliss blown eyes locking on John's face. "Please," he keened, his body tightening one last time around John's cock and sending the older man tumbling over the edge with a roar.

John came back to himself slowly, the familiar languidness firmly settled in his bones letting him know that once again he'd been "good for Ianto's ego." He tightened his arms around the body atop him, pressing a kiss to the disheveled curls. The young man murmured and John had the distinct impression that he wasn't the *only* one who could claim "good for the ego."

"Hey," he urged softly, soothing his hands up and down the young man's back. "Still with me?"

Ianto burrowed deeper into John's embrace, sweet, sleepy, nonsense noises falling from his lips.

John chuckled at the endearing sounds before shaking the young man a bit more firmly. "Gonna get glued together if'n we don't move, sweetheart," he warned, grimacing from the memory of the first time it had actually happened. "Don't know 'bout you, but I kinda like my skin on *my* bones, even if I do fancy yours."

Ianto's head rose off of John's chest, his eyes staring at John in confusion. "You do realize that makes no sense."

John's laughter shook them both. "Got ya to move though, didn't it?" He claimed a quick kiss. "Quick rinse and then we can curl up and sleep." He urged the other man out of the warmth of the wrecked bed. He helped his still dazed lover to his feet, concerned when the young man winced. "Ya all right?" he asked, his arm going around the trim waist.

Ianto's smile was breathtaking. "Better than," he reassured. "Just been a while." He kissed the slight frown away. "And I *do* intend to do it again," he informed his lover matter of factly.

John held up a hand in surrender. "Okay. Okay." He hugged the young man close. "And for the record," he whispered into the dark curls, "I'm mighty glad to hear that."

Andy walked Eirlys up to the door of her flat. "I'm sorry for being such a prat," he said shyly.

The young woman chuckled, patting the chagrinned man on his flushed cheek. "S'all right," she reassured. "Understandable given what that cow did. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry."

Andy shrugged. "Yeah, well, what I get for not listening to my mates, ain't it? Not that you're just one of my mates or anything, I mean, I get that I shoulda paid more attention and I get that now." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Got it before that bloke pointed out that he'd be more than happy to appreciate you since I obviously didn't. Honest."

She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "Course you did, Andy," she said, amusement clear in her voice.

"I did!"

She smiled at him. "Doesn't get you out of that dinner and two pints you owe me."

He grinned. "I don't welch on bets I lost fair and square. Didn't know you threw darts that well."

"League champ when I was still with the force," she said with a cheeky wink.

"Hey!"

She patted his cheek one last time. "Night, Andy," she said with a wave as she entered her building, closing the door behind her.

Andy chuckled. He turned back around and climbed into the cab. He gave his home address and settled back, trying to think of where to take the surprising young lady for her victory dinner.

Owen wasn't sure exactly where he was headed, just wandering the quiet Cardiff streets and silently cursing the ever present mist that clung to the still air.

He'd left Alun and Tesni curled together in the hotel bed, letting himself out quietly as the couple slept on, unaware and unconcerned. He'd not left them wanting. Tesni had all but screamed herself hoarse, and he'd even managed a quick pull to get Alun off before they'd thanked him kindly and offered him the first shower. He'd taken it, and their number, which he tossed into the nearest bin, and immediately found the nearest, seediest bar and proceeded to get blissfully pissed. He'd nearly taken the offer of a quick toss in the alley, but the bloke kissed like a dead fish and had hands like an old fishwife. So he'd given his regrets, finished his whiskey and staggered out into the Welsh night.

He wandered the night, no destination in mind, letting his feet take him where they would. He blinked as he realized the area looked familiar. Took him a moment to place Gwen and Rhys's building but when he did, he couldn't help but laugh at his own idiocy. He yawned, the long night and alcohol finally catching up with him. He knew he'd not find a taxi this late, and besides, he only needed to rest his eyes a bit then he'd be fine. Grab a spot of breakfast, head back to the Hub and change into the spare kit in his locker before anyone was the wiser. He'd just take a quick rest outside Gwen's door, be gone before she or Mr. Domestic, "I ask, I lead" even knew he was there. Plan firmly in mind he let himself into the building, shaking his head at how easy it was for anyone with half a brain, even one as drunk as his.

Rhys's step was light as he all but danced into the kitchen to start breakfast for his still sleeping best girl. He took out the waffle maker, the big mixing bowl, and the ingredients for Gwen's favorite waffles. He hummed to himself as he sifted the dry ingredients together and set the iron to heating so it would be nice and ready when the batter was. He heard something bang against the door and stopped, listening for a repeat of the sound. It came again, a thump followed by a muttered voice. He hurried back to the bedroom and grabbed his robe. "Gwen," he called, shaking the sleeping woman. "I need your help, luv."

She was instantly awake, blinking at her worried fianc�. "What is it?"

"I think there's someone at the door and they may be hurt." He tugged her from the bed, handing her a long nightshirt to throw on. "I'm not sure, but I wanted you awake before I opened the door to check." He left without waiting for her to answer. He moved back into the front room, heading for the door, ignoring Gwen's frantic calls behind him. He trusted his instincts. Besides, it was a security building, and with his luck it was old Ms. Turner fallen while trying to peek in the key hole. He opened the door carefully, blinking as it swung in heavily, bringing a familiar body with it.

"Owen?"

The man shifted, groaning at Gwen's exclamation and clutching at his head. "Oi. No need to yell," he muttered.

"There a reason you're passed out in our doorway, Owen?" Gwen asked as she crouched down beside the man on the floor. "While wearing the same clothes from last night." She looked up at Rhys who was staring at the doctor in confusion.

The doctor looked blearily up at her, shrugging. "Didn't plan on it. Just wanted to rest my eyes for a bit. Must have fallen asleep." He scrubbed at his eyes, wincing as Rhys flipped on the overhead light to take a better look at him.

"How did he...?" Rhys stopped the question, shaking his head. "No... no I don't think I want to know." He leaned down and grabbed the obviously hung-over man's arm and struggled him up off the floor and out of the doorway. "In you come," he said cheerily. "You're in time for breakfast and there'll be plenty." He winked at Gwen's confused expression as he herded the unsteady man towards the couch. "Gwen, luv. Close the door before Ms. Turner and that little rat o' hers decide to come for an eyeful."

He settled Owen on the couch, taking in the shuttered expression and bloodshot eyes. "Okay. Water and painkillers first, then breakfast. Get you back on your feet." He bustled into the kitchen, pouring their guest a glass of water and motioning for Gwen to go get the bottle of pills from the bathroom. He handed the other man the water. "Drink it. All of it. You're dehydrated and it'll help."

"Know that," Owen growled as he took the offered glass. "I'm a doctor."

"You're also a stubborn prat who doesn't know how to take care of himself," Rhys countered just as sharply. "So I just thought I'd make sure."

"God but you're a mother hen," Owen protested. Closing his eyes to shut out the other man and snarling as Gwen deliberately rattled the bottle of pills beside his ear. "God!" He glared at her and grabbed at the bottle, popping it open and dumping two pills out into his hand. He swallowed them down with a grimace and rested the cool glass against his forehead, trying to get the world to settle back to rights.

Pans banged in the kitchen, making him wince and cringe with each noise. Then the smells hit. Sweet and hot and... his stomach rebelled. He managed a hand over his mouth and Gwen immediately understood, grabbing a waste bin and shoving it into his hands. He retched pitifully into the plastic bin, bringing up alcohol and bile, the smell making him gag and start all over again. He whimpered pitifully as Gwen pet his hair, crooning soothingly to him. A damp cloth was laid over the back of his neck, a large hand holding it in place.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't think the waffles would bother you," Rhys apologized quietly. He took Owen's elbow and helped him stand. "Bathroom," he urged. "A shower will help clear your head a bit, then sleep."

"I don't need..." his protest was cut short by another bout of nausea and he clamped his lips tightly together to keep from embarrassing himself further.

"Owen," Gwen asked softly. "What is it you usually give for hangovers? Is it at the Hub?"

Owen sighed. "Yeah. It's in the cabinet under the computer. B-12 and a few other compounds. Works wonders." He looked at the woman pitifully. "Please say you'll go get it. Please."

Gwen nodded, sighing. "Rhys?"

"I'll make you waffles when you get back," he promised. "Go get dressed and I'll get our guest washed up." He supported Owen, steering him towards the bathroom.

"Okay." He settled Owen on the closed toilet seat and leaned in to start the shower. "Think you're up to undressing yourself, Owen?" he asked seriously, head in the shower as he adjusted the temperature. Silence. He leaned back out, smiling as he took in the scene before him. Owen's forehead was pressed to the cool tile of the wall, the waste bin within easy reach as the doctor tried to mitigate the effect of the smell by panting through his mouth.

He moved the bin and eased Owen away from the wall. "All right, let's get you into the shower." He knelt down and began to unbutton the other man's shirt, stripping him with quiet efficiency. He eased the shirt from Owen's shoulders, mouth a tight line as he took in the too thin form. He undid Owen's shoes and stripped them and his socks from his narrow feet. He hesitated a moment at the belt but one look at the ashen face decided it for him. "All right," he urged, "Up we go." He supported the other man as he pulled off the stained slacks. He wasn't surprised by the lack of underwear, though he was surprised by the finger-sized bruises on the man's waist and ass.

"What did you do, Owen?" he whispered sadly. The other man didn't answer, refusing to even meet Rhys's eyes. "Okay. In to the shower." He pulled back the curtain and helped Owen step into the warm spray. He released his hold on the man's arm, only to have him sway dangerously. "Lean on the wall," he ordered with a bemused smile. He kept an eye on the too thin man as he dropped his own robe and made sure there were towels.

"Rhys," Gwen called as she stuck her head into the bathroom. She smiled at the startled look on her fianc�'s face. She stepped into the warm room, kissing him softly and hanging his robe on the hook by the door. "I'm headed to the Hub, I'll be back quick as I can. I changed the sheets and placed an empty bin by the bed." She caressed Rhys's face. "I love you, Rhys Williams. You're a good man."

He blushed, smiling at the words and the heat in her eyes. "Nah, just can't stand to see a poor old thing in misery," he teased with a wink.

"Heard that," came a quiet growl from the shower.

"Go on," Rhys urged, dropping a quick kiss on Gwen's cheek. "I'll get him cleaned up and settled. Be careful."

"Always am," she said cheekily. She stared into the shower, amused when Owen attempted to cover his lax genitals when he realized she was looking. "Play nice, Owen," she cautioned. "Or I won't give you the shot when I'm back."

"Ha ha. Just bring me the damned shot or *shoot* me," he begged. "Don't know that I care which right now."

"Shot," Rhys answered. "I'm not spending all day cleaning your blood and brains out of my shower."

Owen nearly retched again, leaning against the shower wall and panting until it passed. "I hate you both."

Rhys chuckled as he stepped into the shower behind the other man. "No you don't, otherwise you'd not have ended up on our doorstep hung over." He grabbed a flannel and lathered up the soap. "Now hold still and relax." He ran the soft cloth over Owen's nail-marked back, trying to ignore the implications of the multitude of red, raised welts and the occasional bite bruise. He said nothing, but silently vowed to talk with Gwen when they had the doctor back on his feet. Owen was apparently self-destructing, and Rhys liked the snarky bastard too much to just sit by and let it happen.

Gwen closed the door behind Owen, now non-hung over, fed and headed off to wherever he spent his Sundays. She shook her head at her co-worker's antics, long since used to the closed off medical man. She threw the lock and turned back to her oddly quiet fianc�. Rhys was seated on the couch, still wrapped in his favorite blue robe, and staring off into space. She'd been so proud of her Rhys. Even knowing what he did about her and Owen, he treated the other man like any other mate he spent time with. Teasing Owen and laughing when he was teased back. It had been a good morning, considering how it had started.

She sat down beside her pensive lover, leaning into his solid warmth. He slid his arm around her without a word, tugging her close and burying his face in her hair. She wrapped her arms around him, letting him take the comfort he obviously needed.

"What is it about that place that tears you all apart like this?" he whispered.

She leaned back, kissing him gently. "All those secrets and no one to talk to about them. No one who'd understand, anyway," she answered.

"He's a stubborn, arrogant git with more balls than brains," he muttered. "Which is saying something in his case."

"He is," she agreed readily, wondering where Rhys was heading with all the musing on their unexpected guest. He slipped back into silence, which didn't surprise her. Rhys wasn't one to say things lightly, not when they were important, Rhys the Rant aside. She smiled at the thought before pressing a reassuring kiss to the bare patch of skin revealed by the neck of his robe. His arm tightened around her and he pressed a soft kiss to her hair. Now she knew it was serious. "Rhys?"

"He needs someone to look after him," he said decisively. "Since he won't do it himself."

She looked up at him, surprised by the adamancy of his tone. She held her tongue, letting him work through it at his own pace.

He looked down at her, meeting her eyes. "He needs us."

She blinked, stunned by the suggestion. "What are you suggesting?"

He shrugged. "Not rightly sure," he answered honestly. "Just can't stand by and watch him self destruct. He's a good guy, if a bit of a bastard." He grinned mischievously at Gwen. "Anyway, he's a good dancer who appreciates my cooking. Well, at least when he's not hung over. What more can a man ask for?"

Go to the second part