Title: Partners and Parents
By: Ceefax
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: AU
Summary: AU. Jack's the father, Ianto's the uncertain young step-parent, and the others are the kids.

***

Ianto remembered the infuriating BT ads again on the drive home. Owen sat in the front passenger seat staring moodily out the window. The blood on his sleeve had dried to a dull brown that Ianto simply knew wouldn't come out. Ah well. School shirts weren't exactly expensive.

They'd had the kid from that Zoe Wannamaker sitcom in them. The adverts. He'd grown up a bit, though, and was now apparently solving all the problems of being a stepparent via some exciting new features of his BT account.

Bollocks to that.

He glanced over at the sullen seven-year-old. Fuck, Jack, you don't pay me enough for this, he thought with mournful resignation. "If you want to talk about it..."

"It wasn't my fault. You always think everything's my fault."

"I didn't say it was your fault - I asked if you wanted to talk about it."

"No."

"Okay." Calm. In control. If you are calm, they will be calm.

"It wasn't my fault."

"Okay."

Defiantly: "S'not like it's actually a punishment, anyway. Three days off school."

"Yeah? Try three days without TV, games or internet. Sound like a punishment yet?"

Owen just smiled the smug smile that said 'dad'll let me anyway'. The sad thing was, he probably would. Jack was infuriatingly indulgent when it came to rule breaking. Other people's rules, at least.

Ianto took a slow, deep breath, glanced down at the tasteful, understated ring on his finger, and reminded himself that he really did love Jack Harkness. And his damn kids.

When they got back to the house, Owen went charging off upstairs. Ianto untangled himself from coat, briefcase, and Myfanwy, who was rubbing against his ankles in the affectionate manner she tended to cultivate just after leaving something half-dead in the kitchen.

"Owen?" he yelled up the stairs, "just wash your face and get changed, we have to go and pick up your sisters."

There was a muffled reply which could have been anything. Ianto glanced at his watch, resolving to give him five minutes, and only five minutes. Owen's suspension had thrown his afternoon logistics off - they would have to go straight back out to pick up Toshiko; but it was Tuesday, so Gwen would need picking up later, after her athletics thing...

Maybe Jack could get her on his way back from work, and maybe that would mean Ianto would have some time to make a start on the work he'd had to skip out on this afternoon, because apparently it was essential that he listened to Owen's headteacher telling the three fighters off for half an hour...

In the meantime, he confiscated the modem, the TV remote, and the scart leads for the DVD player and game consoles. Seven minutes later, he went upstairs to fetch his stepson.

***

They drove to Toshiko's school in silence, Owen staring gloomily out of the window. As he swept by the gates, Ianto did a momentary double-take at the sight of Jack's Range Rover, parked in front of the entrance. Exactly where you weren't supposed to park.

Gritting his teeth, he pulled in at the end of the queue of cars lining the road, took Owen by the hand, despite his protests, and walked back. Jack was leaning against his shiny black quarter panel in ankle-length coat and sunglasses, being covertly admired by a group of young women with pushchairs. "What're you doing here?" he asked as Ianto approached.

"I could ask you the same question."

"I texted you, didn't you get it? I would've called, but you yell at me if I phone you at work. Hi, baby."

He swept Owen into his arms. "'M not a baby," he protested, but laid his head compliantly on Jack's shoulder.

Ianto fished his phone out of his pocket and held it up, demonstrating he had received no messages.

Jack shrugged and grinned. "Network problems. What'cha gonna do?" He leaned back to take in the bruises on Owen's face. "Did ya win?" Owen just shrugged.

"I left early for him," he stabbed a finger at Owen, "just like I've been leaving early every day this week to pick up the kids, because you claimed you couldn't, which is why I'm so behind, and you're not supposed to park there."

"Whoa, whoa, easy..." He put Owen down and rubbed soothingly at Ianto's bicep. "I'm sorry, I should've called, and I'll only be here a minute... Hey, there she is!"

The inmates of the school had been released, and Toshiko was making her way towards them through the crowd, backpack slung over her shoulder and folder in her arms. She looked from Jack to Ianto, then giggled.

"You get a choice of vehicle today," Jack told her.

She gave them each a considering look, then opened a rear door and climbed into the Range Rover.

"Judgement had been passed," Jack said with a shrug, shutting the door firmly behind her. Owen clambered into the front passenger seat with a smug look back at Ianto.

"Can I assume you'll pick up Gwen, as well?"

"Yeah, look, Ianto..."

"I'll see you later, then."

He stomped back to his car. Halfway there, his phone bleeped and delivered three messages, two from yesterday, one from Jack. He glared at it and switched it off. The Range Rover swooped by as he was opening the door. Owen's hands made white starfish on either side of his face. He'd squashed his open mouth against the window to form a seal, then inflated his cheeks. Ianto rolled his eyes and got in the car.

***

The next morning he was woken at ten to six by Toshiko creeping into the bed. He closed his eyes and tried to get back to sleep as she cuddled up to Jack's side and opened the traditional negotiations concerning his watch. A few minutes later she was lying on her stomach in the small strip of space between her father and stepfather, investigating the tiny metal slabs of the watch's expanding wristband. Jack watched with a proud smile.

Ianto turned his back on the two of them, and made one last stab at that final hour of sleep, even though he knew it was a lost battle. His eyes drifted, as they tended to when left to their own devices, to the photo on his bedside table. He and Jack outside the hotel just after the ceremony. He loved that photo - Jack looked so handsome and happy, although he, Ianto, looked like he'd just spent the last six months planning an enormous and complicated party.

Jack was climbing out of bed. "Come on, you," he said, reaching out to tickle Toshiko's ribs, "time to brush your teeth."

She squirmed away, laughing, and shook Ianto conscientiously by the shoulder. "It's time to brush your teeth," she told him.

"I will in a minute, sweet'art."

Jack shooed Toshiko towards the bathroom, and Ianto rolled over onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head.

Gwen walked in, sat down on the edge of the bed, and regarded him solemnly. Despite the fact you bitch and moan for days if anyone comes into your room without knocking, he thought, giving her a questioning look.

"I'd like the TV remote, please," she said.

"No TV, Owen's being punished. We discussed it last night."

She pursed her lips. "Owen gets in trouble so the rest of us have to suffer, is that it?"

"Yes. It's only till the weekend, you'll survive."

Her eyes wide with sincere understanding, she leaned towards him. "Look, I get it - you were angry, you overreacted, and now you have to stick by what you said, otherwise the kids won't listen to you next time. But this really isn't fair. They won't respect you if you're not fair."

It was clear she wasn't counting herself in with 'the kids'.

"It's decided," her told her, firmly. "Not open for discussion."

She crossed her legs awkwardly at the knee and flipped her hair back, trying to appear older. "I just wanted to watch the news, actually."

"Well, that's no problem," he said, feeling a certain malicious gleefulness, "you can listen to the news on the radio. Radio's not banned."

She paused, giving him a long, calculating look, then, evidently unable to find a loophole, stomped out again.

Ianto settled back, telling himself firmly that it was wrong to feel smug about temporarily outsmarting a thirteen-year-old.

Toshiko bounced back in and flung her freshly minty self down on Ianto's chest. Her knees drove into his stomach and forced all the air out of his lungs in a pained gasp.

"Can I watch cartoons?" she asked, her soft brown eyes wide and pleading. "I've been good."

***

He took Owen to work with him. There wasn't any alternative - Jack's work was still insanely busy, and Ianto was in no position to take time off.

"You're like a walking advert for contraception," Idris told him with a grin. Ianto had crept away for a relaxing cup of coffee leaving Owen sequestered under his desk, allegedly getting on with some schoolwork.

"I am in no way responsible for the conception of that child," Ianto said, rubbing at the corners of his tired eyes. "And even if I was, I'd still deny it."

"Shhh, he'll hear you, you'll give him complexes."

"He deserves complexes, the little git." He breathed in a deep lungful of moist, coffee-scented air.

Idris laughed. "I could so get social services on you."

"All that paperwork? You wouldn't dare."

He was about to take a sip when Owen cannoned into his legs. Through sheer dumb luck, most of the coffee stayed in the cup, and the few drops of near-scalding liquid that did escape missed Owen and only fell on Ianto.

"Owen! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"I'm boooored," he protested, gripping Ianto firmly around the knees.

Idris turned away, trying not to laugh.

"Go and do your homework," Ianto told him, putting the cup down out of harm's way and trying to prise himself free.

"I've done it. I hate it here, it's boring."

Ianto choked back a 'you should've thought of that.' He had successfully freed one leg, but Owen had fixed himself, limpetlike, to the other, and wouldn't be shifted.

Idris crouched down into Owen's eyeline. "You don't want to work for the council when you grow up, then?" he asked, in the affected tone of an adult who had very little to do with children.

"No," Owen replied with scornful derision. "I'm bored," he continued, refusing to be distracted from the salient point, and headbutted Ianto in the kneecap.

"Come on, then," Ianto said patiently, and lurched back to his desk, Owen's legs locked firmly around his ankle, to a chorus of sniggers from his co-workers.

When you became a parent you rapidly lost any hope of retaining your dignity.

Once Owen had been made reasonably happy with some sheets of A4 and the best selection of pens available, Ianto got on with some work, shooting the occasional glance downwards to make sure Owen was still there, and not tying his shoelaces to the desk again.

When it came time for the school run, he phoned Jack to check he wasn't going to unexpectedly show up and do it for him.

"You're gonna keep on about that for months aren't you?" Jack complained. Ianto could hear the rush of wind through the phone. "It's all yours, and I'll be home around five."

"Good, that means I can get back in for a few hours this evening."

Jack sighed. "You work too hard."

"Bit rich, coming from you."

"Yeah, yeah. Look, I've gotta go, I'll see you later. Love you."

"Love you, too."

He stuck the phone back in his pocket, and went to retrieve Owen.

***

His evening sojourn back into work didn't take as long as he'd thought it would, and when he got home, Jack was making dinner.

"I know," he said, grinning in response to Ianto's raised eyebrow. "Housewife of the year - in the bag."

"I think you actually have to have dinner on the table for housewife of the year." He leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"Damn! Five minutes out." He propped the spatula on the edge of the wok, wrapped his arms around Ianto's waist, and kissed him properly.

Jack's lips were warm and soft, and Ianto wound his arms around his neck, lifting one hand to push his fingers into his thick, silky hair...

"Oh, god..." That was Gwen in the doorway, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Oh yeah?" Jack countered, defiantly, not relinquishing his hold, "so what do you and Bruce Griffiths get up to every weekend, huh?"

She clapped her hands over her ears. "Oh my god, you're disgusting..." She ran out of the kitchen, and Jack laughed over the thunder of her feet on the stairs.

"Anything you want me to do?" Ianto asked.

"Nope, just stand there and inspire me. Oh, wait, actually, you could lay the table."

He carried cutlery, cups, and a jug of fruit juice through to the living/dining room. Owen was hanging upside down over the edge of the sofa, reading a book which he'd propped up, also upside down, on its covers on the floor.

"Dinner's nearly ready," Ianto said, relocating the table's previous occupants. "You wanna go get your sisters?"

Owen heaved a put-upon sigh, did a somersault off the sofa, marched the five steps to the base of the stairs, bellowed "Tosh! Gwen! Dinner!" then returned to his previous position, shooting Ianto a resentful glare.

***

Later, after the rigmarole of the various bedtimes, Ianto crawled under the duvet and collapsed gratefully to the mattress. "You know you're really a parent," he said, eyes closed, "when you look forward to going to bed just to sleep."

"Nope," Jack said, shuffling up to his side and resting his chin on his shoulder, "you've skipped the real defining stage. You know you're really a parent when you walk past a gorgeous young mom, short dress, great legs, and you think to yourself 'wow, that was a nice pushchair'."

Ianto laughed and hugged him. "Have you considered it might just be that you're gay?"

"Shut up," Jack retorted. "All your bitching about labels, but you're happy enough to hand them out."

"Thanks for not caving on the TV thing," Ianto said, snuggling closer and breathing in the familiar comforting scent of his partner.

"S'okay. United front, right?"

"Right."

They lay together in the peaceful dark for a few minutes, until: "so where did you hide all the stuff?" Jack asked casually.

"You'll get it back at the weekend like everyone else."

***

The ban, to Ianto's surprise, lasted until Friday morning. He woke abruptly at five past six, with the confused, sleepy sense that something was wrong. It took him a few minutes to work out that he'd been woken by the lack of Toshiko.

Leaving Jack's genteelly snoring form, he found her in the living room in front of the computer. At his entrance, she hastily minimised what was unmistakably gmail, guilt written across her face.

"I wasn't gonna let him use it!" she babbled. "I just needed to check my mail! He's never up yet, anyway!"

The ethernet cables that connected the modem (when it wasn't locked securely in Ianto's glove compartment) still hung free and empty. He leaned over her shoulder, commandeered the mouse, and investigated. The computer was on-line. "How did you...?"

"Next door's Wi-Fi." She was watching him cautiously, not yet sure if she was in trouble or not.

"But this thing isn't wireless..." He craned forward to examine the back of the gently humming box. An odd amalgamation protruded, a cheery LED blinking at its tip. Ianto sighed. "Toshiko, what have we told you about using the soldering iron?"

"I didn't!" she protested, indignantly. "I got Gwen to do it. That's why it's all lumpy," she added sadly, before turning her eyes up to his with mute pleading.

He couldn't face yet another argument on the same topic, especially this early in the morning. "All right, you can have till seven. Then I want this thing back the way it was, understand?"

"Mmm hmm." She smiled her sweet smile, and turned back to the screen to get on with talking about ponies, or hacking into the ministry of defence or whatever it was she so urgently needed to get on-line for.

Jack stirred a little as he climbed back into bed. "You'll never guess what your daughter's just done," Ianto said, snuggling up to Jack's sleep-warm body.

"Tosh? Taken over the world?"

"Not just yet."

"She's gonna," Jack said happily, his eyes still closed. "She'll be our despotic overlord, ruling from her secret island base, stroking Myfanwy and laughing as her cowed subjects bring offerings of Lazy Town DVDs and chocolate. 'Cos she's brilliant."

"You know what? I believe you."

***

When Ianto got in that evening, Jack, who had stayed home with Owen and collected the girls, had organised a game of basketball in the back garden.

The teams seemed to be Jack and Toshiko versus Gwen and Owen. Ianto made a start on the washing up piled in the sink, and watched them out of the window.

It was something of an eclectic game, owing to the odd shape of the garden and the fact that all the participants were cheating shamelessly.

As Ianto was scrubbing out the last of the saucepans, Gwen, having declared victory for her team, hoisted Owen over her head and dashed around the garden in a lap of victory. His yells could have been either protest or exhilaration.

While they were distracted, however, Jack lifted Toshiko onto his shoulders and she dropped the ball neatly through the hoop. Jack caught it on the rebound, handed it back up, and she repeated the performance. Gwen and Owen protested loudly.

They all barrelled back in through the kitchen, the debate continuing. Toshiko, cheeks flushed with excitement, ran towards Ianto with outstretched arms, and he crouched down to scoop her up. Jack moved in and pretended to squish her between their bodies. She squealed obligingly.

After kissing Ianto and Toshiko in turn, Jack pounced on Owen and carried him upside down into the living room. Even over his bawling yells of protest and Gwen's laughter, Ianto heard the sound of Jack's mobile.

That was the problem with Jack's work - it was unpredictable, and he always seemed to be on call. Ianto watched, leaning against the doorframe, as Jack did his best to have a conversation while holding off Owen, who was desperately trying to take advantage of the distraction.

He gave Ianto an apologetic smile as he slipped the phone back into his pocket, still fending Owen off by way of a hand to the head. Gwen, with the sensitivity that came with increased maturity, wrestled her brother onto the sofa and sat on him. "I'm sorry," Jack said, wrapping his arms around Ianto and resting his head on his shoulder.

"That's okay. You've had them all day, I'm sure I can manage the evening."

He sighed, fitfully. "I was looking forward to having us all in for a change."

"I'm going out," Gwen called from the sofa, dodging Owen's attempts to pinch her.

"Except for Gwen," Jack continued, smoothly. "Oh, and Gwen? When you grow up and have kids of your own, you can strangle them all you want, at least until the police arrive. Now, let go of your brother. If there's any strangling needs doing around here, I'll be doing it."

Ianto cleared his throat, pointedly.

"...Or Ianto," Jack added. "But you have no strangling rights. Now say you're sorry."

"Will you be back tonight?" Ianto asked.

"Hope so." He kissed him softly, to a chorus of disgust from the kids. "You three behave yourselves." He crouched down to hug Toshiko, ruffled Gwen and Owen's hair, to the annoyance of both, and left.

***

Later, with Gwen occupying the bathroom in preparation for her evening out, and Owen and Toshiko spread out across the living room floor with copious drawing materials, Ianto sat with Myfanwy curled on his knees, half reading a book, half idly daydreaming.

His life had changed so much in the last few years. From having no family at all, he'd suddenly found himself with a partner and a whole pack of kids. It had taken a lot of adjusting on everyone's parts.

Toshiko had warmed to him straight away - her quiet, intellectual personality was closer to his, while Jack's more boisterous style was better suited to Gwen and Owen.

There were still occasional clashes with Gwen. She and Jack were so close. There were times when he still went to her before Ianto, who then had to remind himself firmly that it was wrong to resent the man for being close to his own daughter.

Sometimes - most of the time - he worried that he was getting the whole parenting thing completely wrong. He'd read innumerable books on the subject, all of which seemed to contradict each other. The only thing they all agreed on was how ridiculously easy it was to fuck up your kids for life.

He had confessed his fears to Jack, shortly after he'd moved in. They'd been curled up on the sofa watching some programme about genetics.

"If you're worrying about it, you probably don't need to worry," Jack had told him. "It's the people who think they know what they're doing that do all the damage." And he had smoothed back Ianto's hair and kissed his forehead, just like he did with his children.

Ianto shifted the book to one hand, and scritched the fingertips of the other through the soft, soft fur behind Myfanwy's ears. She purred.

She had been his before she had become theirs. More than that, she was the reason he and Jack had met in the first place.

It had been close to midnight on a cold autumn evening. Ianto had been traipsing the streets in an increasing spiral with his poky little catless flat in the centre, calling "Myfanwy," into the uncaring night in an embarrassed-yet-worried way.

Part of his mind had been trying to convince him that none of this was necessary, and that he should really be home, tucked up in his nice, warm bed. She was a cat, cats wandered.

But he had known, even if he had given up and gone back, he wouldn't have been able to sleep for worrying. She wasn't the wandering sort of cat, she was always home right on time for every meal, and he hadn't seen any sign of her since last night.

It was while he was crossing the park that he was literally run into. He had been staring out into the dark, rubbing his fingers through his hair in despair, when someone had slammed into him and knocked him off his feet.

As he was lying on his back, feeling the moisture from the wet grass slowly seep through his jeans, a large, shockingly handsome man had leant over him and offered a hand. "Sorry," he'd said, "didn't see you. You okay?"

Ianto had taken his hand, feeling a little frisson of excitement as their skin touched, and let himself be pulled to his feet. "You haven't seen a cat, have you? Little grey one with white paws?"

"Nope, no cats." Their hands had still been clasped. "I'm Jack Harkness," he'd said, turning it into a handshake.

"Erm... Ianto. Jones," he'd added, wishing he didn't sound quite so much like he'd just nearly forgotten his own name.

Jack's smile had broadened, very white in the darkness. "It's nice to meet you, Ianto Jones." In his American accent, the name emerged sounding strange and exotic - Yaahn-toh.

"It's just that she didn't come home today," Ianto had continued, knowing he was babbling and somehow not quite able to stop. "She's only six months old."

Jack had given him a commiserating smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Sorry. Hope you find her," he'd said, and jogged off into the night.

And that would have been that, except that two continuingly catless days later, his doorbell had rung and there had been Jack, holding an old-fashioned wicker cat basket.

Ianto had fallen into a crouch, hooking his fingers into the bars at the front and peering inside. "Oh my god... Come in."

Jack had put the basket down on the table, and Ianto had fumbled the straps free to lift Myfanwy out and bury his face in her fur. Less moved than he by the reunion, she had clawed her way out of his arms and stalked into the kitchen to wait for food to appear.

"Thank you," Ianto had said, turning to Jack with a heartfelt smile. "Where on earth did you find her?"

"That is yours, right? I mean, it'd be kinda embarrassing if I'd got the wrong cat after all that."

"Yep, she's mine." He had leaned back to peer around the door frame at her sleek grey form. Seeing him looking, she had mewled impatiently. "And, er, how did you know where I live?"

Jack had given him a reassuring smile. "You're in the phone book. And I found her locked in an old warehouse, she must've been doing some exploring. I was poking around there anyway, so it wasn't any trouble."

"Thank you. Really, I... I was worried. Thank you." There was a pause. Ianto had looked across at Jack, decided he really didn't have anything to lose, and offered, "why don't you stay and I'll cook you dinner? I mean, it's the least I could do, after..."

"I... Well... That sounds great, thanks," Jack had said with a delighted grin.

They had kissed for the first time that evening. As they'd been clearing the table, Ianto had taken a deep, steadying breath and leaned in to press his lips quickly to Jack's. He'd received a surprised smile, and then Jack had slid his hands up to cup his face and they'd done it again, and again...

Myfanwy stretched, hooking her front claws into the arm of the chair, her back claws sliding out to prick into Ianto's thigh, then jumped down. Thirty seconds later came the clatter of the cat flap. Ianto propped his book on its face over the arm of the chair, and relocated to the floor for a closer look at the artistic efforts.

Owen was illustrating the final moments of the vole Myfanwy had chased into the kitchen last week. It was rather sensationalised, but showed a promising degree of anatomical accuracy, especially where the cat was concerned.

Toshiko's was a bit more abstract. "It's Jupiter," she explained. "Except it's yellow 'cos Owen needed the red for all the blood."

"Oh, yes, I see. There's the great yellow spot. That's good. You could cut it out and stick it on some black paper if you wanted. Owen, you know you have to share the pencils, right?"

"She said I could have it," Owen protested, not looking up from shading the kitchen cupboards.

***

As Toshiko and Owen's bedtime was reached, slightly later in honour of the weekend, Gwen was storming all over the house accusing everyone she came across of stealing her hairbrush. Said brush was finally located tucked behind the sofa, with a large quantity of what looked suspiciously like cat fur adhering to the bristles.

While Gwen rinsed the brush in the kitchen sink, complaining loudly to no-one in particular, Ianto did his best to persuade Owen to clean his teeth.

This was always something of a battle. Owen's mission in life seemed to be to do the exact opposite of everything he was told. Ianto had previously tried, without much success, orders, threats, bribes, nonchalance, and then even more threats.

Jack's approach to the situation was to simply tuck him under his arm, carry him to the bathroom, and hold one hand up his back while he brushed his teeth with the other. It worked well - Owen regarded the whole thing as a game, and went cooperatively enough once his protest had been acknowledged ("he's a sweet kid really," Jack had observed, "he just won't admit it.") - but despite the admitted efficiency, Ianto couldn't quite bring himself to try it.

Today he was attempting leading by example. Roping in Toshiko as backup, he herded them both before him into the bathroom and loaded up three toothbrushes.

To his delight and astonishment, it worked. Soon Owen and Toshiko were engaged in an enthusiastic spitting contest, building little mountains of white foam on the basin's shining surface. In fact, Owen had to stop and top up with more toothpaste halfway through.

After that, it was smooth sailing to bedtime, but Ianto had no sooner fallen back into his armchair to bask in his victory and make another attempt at his book when the phone rang.

All the wireless handsets had been set to different ringtones, so the noise was somewhat cacophonous. He waited, confidently expecting Gwen to answer it, but the din shrilled on.

With a sigh of resignation, he put the book down. Anticipating one of Gwen's friends, who all sounded interchangeable on the phone, he picked it up.

But his casual, "hello?" was met with only silence. He waited for a few seconds, repeated his enquiry, and was reaching for the cutoff button when a tinny voice emerged from the tiny speaker.

He returned the phone to his ear in time to hear, "so, you must be the new boy?"

The voice was quiet, female, and bitter. A wave of cold realisation sloshed over Ianto's heart. "Suzie?" he asked, softly.

"So, he does still talk about me. That's a good sign. I suppose."

Jack's eldest daughter - she'd be seventeen now. Only eight years younger than Ianto himself. No longer living at home, and not generally spoken of. Ianto hadn't ever got a completely clear picture of what had gone wrong, and hadn't liked to ask. Family secrets were something he'd been raised not to pry into.

Gwen kept a photograph of her beside her bed. It showed the whole family back when Owen was just a baby, long before Ianto had entered the scene. He tried to fit the smiling face surrounded by clouds of dark, wavy hair to the cold, dispassionate voice he was hearing.

"Would it be possible for me to speak to my father, do you think?"

"Um... Sorry, he's not here. Can I...? He trailed off, uncertain what he could possibly offer her.

"There's a surprise." Her voice broke a little on the last word. She paused and drew in a deep, shaking breath, and Ianto realised that under her flat, unemotional tone she was trying not to cry.

"Is there...?" Anything I can do to help, he was going to say, but she cut him off.

"Are you tired of it yet?"

"Sorry?"

"Him. He doesn't really love you, you know. He doesn't really love anybody."

Not sure what to say, Ianto paused. The sounds of breathing on the other end of the phone deepened into a sob, and he gritted his teeth, suddenly resolved. "Where are you?"

***

Gwen's righteously indignant protests still ringing in his ears, Ianto set out. He'd had to ask her to stay home and watch Toshiko and Owen. Despite the fact that he'd never even met the girl on the phone, he was still her stepfather, and if she was in trouble, he had to help her.

"Oh, Jack, where the fuck are you," he muttered under his breath, peering through the windscreen at the darkened city streets.

He followed the promptings of his sat-nav to the address Suzie had given. She was so close, it was unbelievable. He parked by the curb, locked the car, and shoved the keys in his pocket, feeling horribly out of place.

Not so long ago, he wouldn't have. Not so long ago he had lived in places like this, with broken glass underfoot and paint-scrawled boards covering the windows. Not so long ago he'd been just another street kid, like his unknown stepdaughter apparently still was.

But he couldn't imagine living here if you had a home and family to go back to. They were even within easy walking distance. Just a few minutes separating their nice, clean, middle-class house and its nice, clean, middle-class neighbours from this slum.

He stopped outside one of the thin little terraced houses. Sprayed across the front door was, 'worm was ere pullin bong'. Good for Worm, Ianto thought, and investigated the door.

At some point it had been padlocked shut, but although the padlock was still in place, the clasp had been ripped away from the doorframe on one side. When he knocked, the door moved inwards. "Suzie?" he called, pushing the door cautiously open.

There was no reply, and inside he could see nothing but darkness. Wishing fervently that Jack had been home that evening, he stepped forward.

The door swung lazily closed behind him. "Suzie? Is anyone there?" He groped along the wall, feeling the intermittent remains of woodchip wallpaper under his fingers, until he came across the light switch. But the relief was short-lived - the switch, when pressed, produced no result whatever.

It's a squat, you idiot, he thought, did you really imagine they'd've paid the electricity bill?

It was useless. He couldn't see a thing, and he hadn't thought to bring a torch. He yelled Suzie's name one last time, then turned to retrace his steps. The tiny sliver of streetlight shining through the crack in the door stood out like a beacon in the boarded-up blackness.

He heard movement behind him, but before he could turn, someone had their hand in his hair and was jerking his head painfully backward. Something was pressed against his throat, and, as he registered the overpowering scent of long-unwashed human, he reached up automatically to pull it away.

It was a knife, and a sharp one. It barely even hurt as it bit into his fingers.

His assailant let go of his hair, seized his wrist, and pulled it up behind his back in one fluid, practised motion. Ianto yelled in pain as his shoulder twisted, the blood trickling down his sliced fingers.

"Shut up," his assailant suggested, pressing the flat of the knife harder against his throat. Ianto tried to pull away from its coldness, but came up short against his own suffering, protesting shoulder.

There was light now. Candles had been lit in the room at the end of the little hallway, and two figures were moving in their glow. Ianto was shoved towards them.

One of them was Suzie. Older now, of course, and the hair that had been a wavy cloud in the photograph now hung limply in greasy ringlets. She watched coldly as the boy beside her stepped forward to rifle through Ianto's pockets.

Of course, he told himself helplessly, feeling small and stupid. You've had it soft for too long, you've forgotten the way things are.

The boy pocketed Ianto's phone, then, with a grin, held up his car keys.

"Go on, then," Ianto's captor snapped, "get it out of here before some fucker has the tyres."

"Locking wheel nuts, actually," Ianto offered.

"Well, isn't that just fuckin' smashing," the voice behind him shot back, doing a poor imitation of a posh accent on the last word. "Go on," he continued to his compatriot, hovering by the door.

"But where'll I take it?"

The sigh of exasperation sent a wave of foul breath blowing over Ianto's ear. "I don't care, just take it somewhere it won't get fucking nicked. Use your imagination."

With one last doubtful glance back, the boy slipped out onto the street, and Ianto bit back the laughter that tried to break free at the thought of the tangle of scart leads, modem, and remote, still locked in his glove compartment. It seemed normal entertainment would not be resumed tomorrow, after all.

"Suze? D'you wanna get his wallet?"

His tone was now a lot more deferring, Ianto noticed. "Suzie?" he tried, gently. "You could still just come home with me. Start again. What'd you think?"

"Well, no, she can't, really, can she," the voice behind him chipped in. "See, you haven't got any wheels."

Suzie smiled a little at that, and took a step forward. Her thin hand dipped into Ianto's pocket and drew out his black leather wallet. She flipped it open, pulled out the cash and tucked it into her back pocket, then turned it around to display the photo tucked into the little transparent pocket. It showed Jack and Ianto, cheek to cheek and grinning. "Sweet," she said, baring her teeth in a approximation of a smile.

Knife-boy snorted with amusement, and Suzie began picking out credit cards. "That's a nice coat," she commented, and dropped the stripped shell of the wallet to the floor.

Shoving Ianto away from him and pointing the knife at him like a gun, her friend said, "take it off."

Ianto shrugged out of the coat, shook it out, and held it up towards Suzie like a gentleman-in-waiting. "You've got excellent taste," he told her as she stepped forward.

She gave him a lopsided grin that reminded him painfully of Jack, and allowed him to slip the thick black wool over her shoulders. He could easily have grabbed her, seized her by the throat, held her in front of him as a shield... But he only folded down the collar.

She did a twirl, laughing. Knife-boy's eyes turned to follow her movement, and Ianto held himself back from making a grab for the weapon. This was certainly not the most professional mugging he'd ever been involved with.

"Anything else you'd like?" he asked, keeping his tone light and easy. "Or can I go?"

"What else you got?" knife-boy answered, happily. His eyes glittered in the dim candlelight. He was enjoying himself.

Ianto made a show of patting his pockets. "Er... About one pound fifty in change. Oh, and some polos." And his house keys, but he wasn't going to volunteer those.

"Give it," the boy demanded, holding out an imperious hand with sweat-loosened dirt grimed into the creases. Ianto laid a handful of silver and copper onto his palm, and topped it with the foil-wrapped end of the packet of spearmints.

"I don't like these ones," knife-boy complained. "They taste like fucking toothpaste."

Ianto refrained from comment.

"Go on, then," Suzie said, jerking her head towards the door. "Fuck off."

"And don't bother coming back, cos we won't be 'ere," knife-boy added.

"Suzie?" Ianto said, carefully casual, "you coming?"

Wrapped in his coat, she looked like a little kid playing dress-up. Her hair hung forward around her face, shadowing her eyes. "You what?"

"You needed help, didn't you? That's why I'm here. So come home."

"Yeah, right. He doesn't fucking want me there, and you know it." For the first time, the cold hard mask slipped, and he caught a glimpse of the helpless despair he'd heard on the phone.

"That isn't true."

She took a step forward, and for a second he thought he'd actually talked her around. Then she slapped him. Hard. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," she spat, suddenly furious. "He doesn't want kids, he just wants pets. And he doesn't want you either, he just wants a maid he doesn't have to pay. You just wait, you'll slip up, like I did, then you'll find out what he really thinks of you."

"You're wrong." Calm. If you are calm, they will be calm.

She smiled at him, pityingly, as though she were the adult, and he the innocent child. "Taking a wild stab in the dark, I'd say you're familiar with sitting at home every damn night watching his damn kids, while he swans around doing whatever he likes, hmm?"

Ianto kept quiet.

"We'll see. We'll see how long you last. How long you'll waste taking care of his shit for him."

"What happened?" Ianto asked, gently.

She blew a sharp breath of disbelief out of her nose, and turned away, wrapping her arms - only the tips of her fingers visible beyond the ends of the sleeves - around her slender body.

"Er, Suze..." knife-boy ventured, nervously, but before he could get any further, she turned and rounded on Ianto again.

"I wanted my life back, that's what happened. My life. 'Cos it's okay for him to bugger off and leave his kids behind, but if I try it..." She laughed.

"Things are different, now," Ianto said, keeping his voice soft and calm. "You could t..."

"We're finished," Suzie snapped. "Just get the fuck out."

"You do what she says," knife-boy chipped in.

Ianto scooped up the discarded wallet, sadly slimmer now, and tucked it into his freshly-emptied pocket. "Offer still stands."

She fixed her furious eyes on him. "Why don't you spare us the sanctimonious bullshit and get out while you still can," she said, quietly.

"Whatever you want." He backed down the corridor, knife-boy following him. Suzie stayed behind, standing in the circle of candles, looking like a disembodied shadow.

He and knife-boy parted company at the front door. Casting a brief look at the pavement where his car had once sat, he started walking.

***

He knew he had got off lightly. His fingers were the worst, throbbing insistently, although the bleeding had almost stopped. He hated to think what that knife had been used for. The night air was cold and, thinking longingly of disinfectant, he buttoned up his thin jacket, for all the good it would do.

He felt stupid. Stupid and gullible. He kept telling himself he couldn't have done anything else, but his mind wouldn't stop running through the scenario again and again, pointing out all the things he could have said, and should have done...

He should feel angry, after what they'd done to him. But he mostly just felt sad. After all, he knew what it was like to have to steal. To live rough because you had nowhere else to go.

But then that wasn't entirely true for Suzie, was it? And while he had also resorted to thievery, he hadn't taken so much pleasure in it...

By the time he got home, he was feeling thoroughly sorry for himself. And he still had no idea how he was going to tell Jack about all this. He let himself in, and realised something was wrong before he'd even got past the front hall.

He paused and listened. Nothing. "Gwen?" he called softly, sticking his head into the empty living room. With a rising sense of foreboding, he climbed the stairs, still trying to be quiet, despite what he already knew.

Toshiko's room was empty, the blankets that should have been tucked safely around her sleeping form thrown back. Owen's was just the same.

"Gwen!" he bellowed, tearing around upstairs, and then thundering back down. He'd known the house was empty as soon as he'd opened the door, but he still desperately searched every room, even going out into the garden to check the shed.

Although he'd heard the term 'cold sweat' a thousand times, he'd never before experienced it. Scrubbing his palms on his trousers, he dashed back inside to look where he'd already looked, although he knew perfectly well what he had to do. Call the police. Call Jack.

You'll slip up, Suzie's voice whispered in his mind, then you'll find out what he really thinks of you.

And then he saw the sheet of paper. It was blu-tacked to the living room door, right where you'd see it if you were walking into the house. In fact, he'd already walked straight past it twice.

Well, you're doing fantastically this evening, he told himself, bitterly. Maybe for an encore you could drown yourself in the reservoir and poison the water supply.

He tugged the paper away from the door. It left the splodge of blu-tack behind, and he absently picked it off as he read the note. It was in Gwen's handwriting:

'Owen sez Suzie's in trouble. We're coming to help. U should have told us!!!'

Shit. Owen must have been listening on the upstairs extension. And he thought they'd finally cured him of that. Shit. And that was just like Gwen, the girl who had jumped off a moving bus once because she'd seen an injured squirrel lying in the gutter. Of course she would drop everything to help her own sister. Shit.

Feeling physically sick, Ianto picked up the phone and dialled Jack's mobile number. It went straight to voicemail, and he drew in a breath to ask him to call back as soon as he could before he remembered the uncertain car thief slipping his phone into his pocket. He hung up.

Call the police, the rational part of his mind told him. He tried Gwen's mobile instead.

It rang. It was, in actual fact, sitting on the sofa not a metre away from him. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, and hung up.

He had to get out there. He may be on this year's shortlist for the Morons You Wouldn't Ever Leave Your Kids With award, but it could still be okay. They probably got lost on the way - after all, he hadn't run into them on his way back. And even if they did make it to the squat, Suzie and her friends wouldn't hurt them, surely. If they had (mostly) refrained from violence while robbing him, they wouldn't hurt three little kids. They wouldn't.

"Oh, that's such bullshit," he whispered to himself, running his thumb lightly over his sliced fingers, and tried Jack's number again, with no result.

Call the police, his mind insisted. I will, he replied, but not yet. If I get back there, and I can't find them, then I'll call. I'll find a phone box on the way back. It's just a few more minutes, it can't make any difference.

Ruthlessly squashing the little voice that insisted, oh yes it can, he hurried out the front door.

He made his way back towards Suzie's squat, taking the back roads and dashing down side-streets, trying to work out where they might have got lost, all the while calling his children's names.

It began to rain a little, and he realised he'd come straight back out in just a suit and shirt that gave little protection against the elements. He gritted his teeth and carried on, the light drops of water catching in his hair and glittering on the surface of his clothes.

And then he realised he should have brought Gwen's mobile with him. He stopped for a second, fought back the urge to punch himself, then continued. When this is all over, he thought, If Jack wants to shoot you in the head, he'll be well within his rights.

He saw very few people out on the streets, and none of them responded positively to his mildly hysterical queries regarding wandering children. By the time he turned back onto the street of decrepit little houses, what hope he'd had was almost gone.

So much so that his eyes skimmed right over the two tiny figures huddled by the wall. He did a double-take, and then sprinted, heart pounding frighteningly hard.

Toshiko and Owen, clutching each other like an urban Hansel and Gretel, their eyes fixed on the house that Ianto had so recently escaped from, wrapped up in chunky bright coats, their faces very pale in the streetlights. They turned at the sound of his pounding feet, and identical smiles of joy and relief spread across their faces. They ran towards him, and he crouched down to catch one in each arm, pulling them tight against him and squeezing his eyes shut.

Thank you, he thought, desperately, thank you, thank you, thank you...

Owen was sobbing, his face pressed against Ianto's side, and it looked like Toshiko might soon go the same way. "It's okay," he said. "Are you all right? Where's Gwen?"

Without lifting his head, Owen pointed back at Suzie's house.

"She went inside," Toshiko elaborated. "She told us to wait, but she's been gone a long time..." She turned big, pleading eyes up at Ianto, waiting for him to make everything better.

"Okay..." He gave them both a comforting squeeze. "I'm gonna go in and get her. But if I'm not right back out, and I mean right back out, I want you to call the police. There's a phone box at the end of the road." He'd peered inside it on the way up to check that it was undamaged, thinking miserably of the call he'd been sure he would have to make.

It felt horrible sending these terrified little kids down the dark wet road to that foul-smelling, filth-strewn little box. Almost as horrible as leaving them out here alone. But I'll just grab Gwen and get out, he promised himself. Won't take thirty seconds. "Okay?" He asked, hoping he sounded more confident that he felt. "You know the address to tell them where you are?"

The tears began to overflow from Toshiko's eyes, but she nodded vigorously.

Ianto gently prised Owen's fingers free. "Come on," he told him, "it's going to be all right..."

But as soon as he lifted his face away from Ianto's shirt, his tear-reddened eyes opened wide with shock and recognition. "Dad!" he yelled, and darted forward.

Reacting automatically, Ianto grabbed his arm and pulled him back before he could run out onto the road. "Owen! What're you..." He broke off as his eyes followed the line of his stepson's excited gaze. Yes, that was unmistakably Jack, walking away from what was unmistakably Ianto's car, and dragging what was unmistakably the uncertain car thief along by the scruff of the neck.

Owen was still straining desperately at Ianto's arm like a dog on a leash, and he pulled him back, reaching down to take Toshiko's hand too, just in case she suddenly decided to try something similar. Her fingers were very cold, and she looked up at him, questioningly. He could only shrug.

Jack hauled the car thief up close. "You remember what I told you?"

"Yes..."

He shook the teenager sharply. "Yes, what?" he barked fiercely, sounding nothing like the man Ianto knew.

"Yes, sir."

"Better." Jack shoved him away. "Now get outta here."

With one fearful glance back over his shoulder, the young man legged it up the street.

"Dad!" Owen bellowed, put out by being ignored.

"Hi, baby," Jack called. "You two stay over there with Ianto, okay?" His coat billowing heroically behind him, he ran up the steps towards Suzie's squat.

"Gwen's still in there," Ianto shouted after him, and he waved a hand in acknowledgement. The ring on his finger, the twin of the one Ianto wore, glinted in the orange streetlights, With no hesitation he barged through the door, and it swung slowly shut behind him.

With a shaky sigh, Ianto led his charges across the road to his car. Jack had left the keys in the ignition. "Honestly, he just leaves it around for people to nick," he muttered under his breath, and Toshiko, although she was still crying a little, giggled.

He turned the heater on, and bundled the kids into the back. He'd no sooner got them settled than the squat door opened, and Gwen came stomping out. She aimed an angry kick at an empty beer bottle lying on the pavement. It skittered out into the road. "Stay here," Ianto told Owen and Toshiko firmly.

He dashed back across the road to intercept Gwen. She scowled darkly at him, and swiped her hand quickly across her eyes. "I'm okay," she snapped, before he could say anything.

"Come and wait in the car," she suggested, taking her arm.

She pulled back, jerking out of his grip. "No."

"All right then, come and wait by the car."

She gave a snort of frustrated unamused laughter, but followed him back across the road.

They stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the door, waiting. Ianto found he wanted quite badly to ask what the hell she'd been thinking, taking her little brother and sister into such a situation, but he kept quiet. Not the time.

Toshiko and Owen peered out, tears drying. Eventually, Owen huffed on the window and started to draw a dinosaur.

When Jack reappeared, he was alone. Ianto ran forward to meet him. "No, stay there," he yelled back at Gwen, who ignored him.

Jack had Ianto's coat slung over his arm. He handed it back with an air of ceremony. He was no longer, Ianto couldn't help but notice, wearing his own. "I think I got all the cards," he said, "I'll pay you back the cash."

"You don't have t..." Ianto began, but he threw up a hand to stop him, walked past them, and headed for the car.

"Where's Suzie?" Gwen demanded.

Jack didn't answer, just opened the driver's door and climbed in.

Gwen angrily wiped at her eyes again, and turned back to the house. Ianto caught her arm. "Don't," he said, and pulled her away. She shot him a glare, but let herself be led.

"What happened to Suzie?" Toshiko asked innocently, once all the doors were shut and Jack had turned the key in the ignition.

"Suzie's not coming," Jack said shortly, shoving at the gear stick.

"You can't just leave her," Gwen snapped. Jack said nothing.

Ianto looked out the window and watched the house retreat, becoming another slice of brick, until Jack turned off the road and it vanished entirely.

In the back seat, Owen's head was nodding. As far as he was concerned, the adventure was over. His dad had barrelled in and saved everyone, and now he was ready for bed. Toshiko was shooting worried glances at Gwen, who was glowering furiously at Jack's back.

Jack himself was staring resolutely forward, frowning slightly, his hands gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. Although he'd seen it less and less frequently since they'd moved in together, Ianto knew that closed-in look, and he knew to talk to him right now would be pointless.

But by the look on Gwen's face, she was certainly going to try.

Let her, his mind told him. Let her badger him about this. Help her. Because he was wrong to leave Suzie behind, and you know it.

He put a hand hesitantly on Jack's shoulder. His partner didn't react, but the tight muscle under his hand relaxed a little.

He thought of how he would have felt, back when he was in Suzie's position, if someone had offered him a home and people to love him. He thought of the sadness he'd seen under her anger. He thought about the pain on Jack's face as he'd walked away. And he made a decision.

He was going back.

***

the end

***