Title: Ginko Biloba
By: lower-case-me
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Up to and including They Keep Killing Suzie.
Summary: Plot bunny removal- I'm going for 2 with 1 stone here. The first had to do with the trees I cycle past every weekday on my way to work, and the second was all about the strangely hospital green colour of Jack's shirt in They Keep Killing Suzie.

***

Jack was leaning on the edge of the bridge looking down into what had once been the mill stream. Even after this much rain, the water was still clear and it wasn't deep. Yellow and brown leaves were carried down with the brisk, smooth current, flickering and turning like little fish.

It was early in the morning and cold. Although it wasn't raining it would soon be a typical wet Autumn day in Cardiff. Jack's breath misted the air and matched the mist that rose off the River Taff not far away, and in faint scraps from the mill stream itself. 20 yards behind him rose the heavy grey bulk of Cardiff Castle. The walls were wet and dark with condensation from the mist. Apart from the occasional cycle commuter or early dog-walker in the park, and the damp getting into his shoes, he was alone.

He didn't glance at his watch. He'd know when it was 8 o'clock. Instead, he watched the water and felt the cold- not in a bad way, just for the sensation. Cold stone rough under his hands. His eyes traced the paths of the leaves back up the creek until they met the double row of golden trees that lined the path by the side of the stream.
'Good morning, Sir.'
'Morning, Ianto. One day I'm going to figure out how you do that appearing out of thin air thing.'
'Oh, practice and natural talent. Skill and finesse, that sort of thing.'

Jack straightened out and turned to look at him. A tall, broad-shouldered pale man in an immaculate heavy black wool overcoat, scarf and gloves. Ianto stood on a broken asphalt island between ruts, leaves and puddles, but his shoes were highly polished and perfectly dry.
'In that case I'm gonna have another look at your file and figure out what the hell you used to do at Torchwood one.'
'Admin. More or less. Mostly.'
'Mostly? Are we talking coffee duties here, or something more serious?'
'More serious than coffee?' Ianto raised a disapproving eyebrow.

Jack laughed out loud. The ghost of a smile passed over Ianto's face, tinged with something else.
'You ever spit in Yvonne's coffee?' Jack asked, shifting around so he could half-lean, half-perch on the bridge wall.
'Yvonne's PA was one of my best friends. The line to spit in Yvonne's coffee was so long that Paul used to cut it off when the cup started overflowing. He said anything more than 20% might make her suspicious, while 10 to 15% and she used to ask for his special ingredient.'
'Hmm. I've asked you that more than once. Should I worry?'
'I've never spat in your coffee, Sir.' The ghost-smile appeared again, for a second.
'Owen's?' Jack asked, raising an enquiring eyebrow.
'I'll make no promises about Owen's. It does give it a particular smooth texture, according to Paul.' There was another thought- Jack's face fell back into a pensive frown.
'This Paul-'
'Killed at Canary Wharf.'

Ianto's face was perfectly blank, like it was so often now, but his eyes were focussed somewhere in the distance. In a London pub, maybe, after work, with Lisa and Paul and all their friends. Laughter and jokes and not caring how hard it was to get cigarette smoke out of his clothes. Holding Lisa's hand under the table while she was so free and so happy.
'Ianto-'
'Sir?' While Jack watched, Ianto pulled himself back into the present with a visible wrench. This place- the park with the wet green grass and the rain coming, was closer to the graveyard where Lisa's stone stood in a far-too-orderly row with the others. He never told her, but he knew she would have hated that. Something in Ianto wanted to go back there to the empty grave and draw stars and hearts one the smooth granite with coloured crayons. Rip the petals off the perfect red roses he'd left after her funeral and throw them so they scattered everywhere. Tear the thorns from the stems with his bare hands and let the blood drip red on the grass as well.

'Ianto?'
'What?'
'Nothing.'
'Pardon me for asking, but why are we here?' Ianto asked, trying not to think of her.
'Something I wanted you to see.' Jack gestured over at the avenue of yellow trees. Every sunshine coloured, fan-shaped leaf was still tinged with bright and beautiful green at the centre. They'd started to fall, and scatter on the grass and mud and the uneven black path. Ianto raised a polite eyebrow.
'The trees, or something else?"
'The trees.'
'I've been here before, Sir' he asked, more roughly than he intended. 'I live five minutes away on the other side of the river. I've seen every tree in the arboretum many times over.'
'Look again.'
'It's the ginko biloba I'm supposed to be looking at?' Ianto asked politely, and blankly.
'C'mon. I'll show you.' Jack pushed off the wall and strode towards the trees. Ianto dutifully followed, obviously humouring his boss' latest mad idea.

In the middle of the empty avenue of green and yellow trees, Jack bent down and swept up a single yellow leaf. He offered it to Ianto, allowing the gesture to get more flamboyant than necessary. If you were going to make a gesture, he thought, it might as well be a showy one.
'Very pretty Sir.' Jack must have looked surprised, because Ianto clarified. 'The leaf, Jack. I meant the leaf'.'

There was a slight curve of Ianto's lip that on a happier man might be called amusement. Jack winked.
'Sure you did. But seriously Ianto. Look at it.'
'I am looking.' To his credit, Ianto did take an interest in the leaf Jack had given him. He seemed to like the texture of it more than the colour, by the way he ran his thumb down the fine veins. Ianto being tactile, there was something new and interesting. It made sense on one level- Ianto wore wool and linen and fine cotton with silk ties, well made clothes that moved well with his body and probably felt good, but Ianto's hands were always working. Jack couldn't remember him ever touching something for the pleasure of the sensation. He filed that thought away for later consideration and got back to the conversation at hand.

'You know Ianto, this whole area used to be covered in ginko forests. They've survived as a species for millions of years through ice-ages, mass extinctions, asteroid strikes, dust blotting out the sun, the whole nine yards. And they've survived humanity, which is no minor achievement, let me tell you. Sure, they were absent from this little island for a while, but now they're back.' Jack paused. Ianto was patiently waiting for him to get to the point, still rubbing the leaf between his fingers and over his palm. 'They're still here. I'm glad.' Jack was aware that his voice sounded strained, but ignored it. 'I'm really, really glad they survived all that. No matter how hard it must have been.'
'Because they're pretty?' Ianto asked, eyebrow raised.
'Because they add something unique to the world. Because it'd be a poorer place without them.'

A look passed between them. Ianto looked thoughtful, as if he were weighing up what Jack was playing at as well as what he was saying. Jack held his eye until Ianto nodded slowly. He said nothing, so Jack dug into his coat pocket and continued.

'Estelle Cole gave me this in her will. My father gave it to her during the war. I think he was trying to say something about the world still being there after the bombs had stopped falling- that they would stop one day. The bad times passing if you hold on long enough. Something like that.' Jack took the leaf from Ianto's hand and dropped something else into his palm. He watch Ianto's careful fingers examine the object, a little tan square of stone no bigger than a penny. It came apart into two flat halves. On the hidden half of each slice was a perfectly detailed tiny ginko leaf in darker brown, one embossed into the stone, the other slightly raised.
'Jack you shouldn't-'
'She would have wanted you to have it, Ianto. You'll look after it. Get it properly treated or something. It's so fragile now. I'd hate for it to be lost for good.'

He didn't tell Ianto that the little fossil had been his graduating assignment from the time agency training program, and that it'd been kept in his pocket until he'd given it to Estelle. She carried it around with in in a matchbox, padded with a shred of rag. It had got chipped and dry, and was dangerously close to falling apart altogether, but Ianto was very good at taking care of things.

'Just take it and do something with it. For me, okay?' Jack laid a hand on top of Ianto's, enclosing the gift in a safe dark bubble. Ianto's hand was rougher than anyone seeing the suit would assume. For a moment they looked at each other again, and then Ianto nodded quickly and broke both contacts, hand and eye. He wrapped the fossil into a clean white handkerchief and slipped it into his pocket. They walked down between the lines of ginko trees and back towards the city together, in silence.

+

A week later, Ianto put a cup of coffee down beside the report Jack was reading, perfectly and smoothly sliding a coaster underneath as he did so. Before he could pull away, Ianto found one forearm grabbed and held, Jack looked from his wrist to his eyes and smiled.
'I like your cuff-links.' The tiny fossils looked perfect against the crisp white of Ianto's shirt.
'Coated in vitreous resin and edged and backed with a non-reactive metal, Sir. I looked up best-practice preservation methods.'
'Somehow I knew you would.'
'And I thought it wouldn't hurt me to be reminded of ginko trees, now and again' Ianto said. It was clear from sadness on his face that today was not a good day. Jack squeezed his hand before letting it go.

+

Jack leaned on the rail overlooking the main hub floor and sipped his coffee. Ianto was beside him, holding his own cup in one hand and the saucer in the other but not leaning down. Which was a pity, because those suit-jackets all but hid his ass when he was standing up straight. The business of alien-chasing over for the day, and Ianto had put the hub to bed. Gwen, Owen, and Tosh were gone for the day, taking the noise and bustle with them. The monitors were switched off and the pterodactyl fed. Ianto had cleared away the debris of a late lunch and Owen's snacks. They'd had a busy day, but the case was settled and reports written up. There weren't many moments like this at Torchwood, or not enough, in Jack's opinion.

'Good day' Jack remarked, idly.
'Something to value, lately, but yes. A good day.'
'I always value these times. Keeps me sane in the crazy periods.'
'I try to remember, Sir. But it's so easy to forget.' Ianto wasn't talking about Torchwood.
'Ianto, can I ask you something?'
'Of course. I may even answer.'
'Did you ever have sex in Torchwood One?'

To Ianto's credit, he didn't blush or spit coffee across the room. All Jack detected, and he was searching very carefully, was a slightly embarrassed look, as if Ianto'd trodden mud into the hub on a rainy day.
'I'm not going to ask if you've ever had sex in Torchwood Three. I'd rather not to think of the miscellaneous mysterious sticky substances I've cleaned off odd places in here.'
'I'll take that as a yes?'
'Alright, yes. I had sex in Torchwood One.'
'Once?'
'Slightly more than once.'
'Slightly more?'
'Several times more.'
'Several, huh?' Jack grinned.
'Several.' Ianto paused. 'Ah. In fact I'd go so far as to say many.'
'Just how many are we talking here?'
'Enough that I still become strangely aroused by the particular shade of institutional pale green that the Canary Wharf office stationery storerooms were painted, Sir.'

Jack laughed, almost snorting coffee out of his nose, and Ianto sipped his own drink calmly, with what might have been an air of smug satisfaction. Typical of the man to time his comments for maximum effect. Ianto was all about attention to detail.

At that moment, Jack would have liked to tell Ianto that it was good to have him back, but it was still too soon for that.
'I've been thinking of something I could give you in return for your... previous kindness' Ianto said carefully. Again, Jack had to stamp on the desire to say something he probably shouldn't.
'You don't have to. Seriously. You already do enough for me.'
'Possibly. But you made a personal gesture, and took the risk that I'd tell you to piss off. I'm afraid simply I can't think of anything appropriate.'
'Does that mean you can think of something inappropriate?' Jack tilted his head in open and obvious invitation. There was nothing he enjoyed more than flirting, or actually there was, but that was the whole point.
'The trouble is, Sir, I think you'd like the inappropriate ideas rather more than the appropriate ones.'
'If you're giving me a choice between an appropriate gift and an inappropriate one, no competition. Roll on the inappropriate wagons. Please.'
'Are you quite sure about that?'
'Damn right I'm sure. Never been surer.'
'Really, very sure?'
'Really really very very sure.' Jack restrained the impulse to bounce up and down on his toes and tell Ianto to get on with the inappropriate.
'Have you finished your coffee?'
'No changing the subject, Ianto. You don't get off that lightly.'
'I wasn't changing the subject. I'd just prefer it didn't get spilled all over the floor.'

Ianto put down his own cup and took Jack's. Well hello, thought Jack. Here we might have something. Oh, yes. His eyes widened further when Ianto took of his jacket and hung it neatly over the rail. Efficient, methodical hands went to his belt buckle, and all Jack's conscious thoughts went out the window.

***