Title: The Next Night
By: ninefics
Word count: 1393
Characters: Ianto and Jack
Rating: Teen and above
Warnings: None? Unless you dislike antiques?
Spoilers: Everything up to and including Cyberwoman.
Disclaimer: As with all fanfiction, this is not-for-profit, just for fun, and all the assorted other words that really mean nothing but look like an attempt.
Author's Note: This story was nominated for an award at tw_fandom_award. It won first place under the "Missing Scene/Post-Episode" category, although now it's obviously completely AU, making it a sort of questionable win in my opinion.

Night was falling on Torchwood Three and Jack waved goodbye to Tosh as she packed up her things for the night. She waved back and called to Owen and Gwen, telling them to hurry if they wanted a lift to the pub.

"You coming?" Owen called up to him.

"Nah, I'm still trying to sort out the last of Suzie's projects. Catalog what else she was working with besides the glove. See if any of it's useful. You know. The usual."

"Your loss, mate." He flipped a salute and turned to go. Jack raised an eyebrow at the very casual way Owen put his hand against Gwen's back as he fell into step beside her.

"I'll be going now, too, sir." Ianto stood a few paces behind Jack, quietly, like a puppy that was afraid of being kicked.

Jack, hands tucked into his pockets, turned his head and looked at Ianto. "Actually, unless there's somewhere you need to be, I could use a hand with some things. Are you...?"

"Yes, sir. Yes. I can stay." Ianto's words were rushed.

Jack half-smiled and hoped he was emitting some sort of feeling of calm. "Relax, Ianto. I'm not going to hurt you. I just thought we should..." He tipped his head to the side, then up again. "We should talk. Follow me."

Jack took off from the conference room and down the stairs. Ianto swallowed hard and followed after him, nervously fiddling with the buttons on his shirt cuffs. He followed Jack out of the hub and into a brick and tile hallway that looked like every other hallway in Torchwood Three, but for the life of him he was certain he'd never been down before.

The hallway ended in a very unimpressive looking door. It appeared to be just plain wood, with a brass doorknob and an old-fashioned keyhole. Jack slipped achurchkey from his pocket and unlocked the door. He held the key up for Ianto to see as the door swung open. "Nifty, huh? It looks just like a regular key, but it's got a tiny little microchip in it that tells this door to open. If the key is copied it won't open the door because it won't have a chip in it. I don't know what I'll ever do if I lose the key. I'll have to find some other way to get the door open I suppose."

Jack said something that sounded like "sonic screwdriver" but Ianto wasn't really listening. He stood in the doorway of the one place he never thought he'd see. The place he only assumed existed.

Jack's room.

Ianto was surprised by his surprise. Surely Jack had a room somewhere, and why not right here in Torchwood? It meant that the place was always manned and there was always someone around in case of an emergency. The plain wooden desk held a computer. The monitor was displaying all the systems online at Torchwood in a constantly updating series of charts, graphs, and images.

The desk was flanked by bookshelves that reached from floor to ceiling and covered from wall to wall. The shelves were crammed full of books, binders, and stacks of magazines and newspapers. Iantorecognised some of the books from Torchwood One. He remembered carrying them in himself and leaving them on the conference room table. Now he knew where they'd gone.

The bed was an old military cot, neatly made to military standards. The dark green blanket pulled up and folded back, the white sheet folded neatly over it, and the stark white pillow that looked as if it had never been used. It was tucked in a corner, the head and one side of the bed against the wall. Jack's wardrobe stood next to the bed, like a sentinel.

The wardrobe was obviously antique. Heavy oak, dark with age, and ornately carved. Ianto couldn't stop himself from reaching out to run his fingers over the intricate woodcut of a stag rearing up and the fox skulking about its hind legs.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Jack whispered. He was behind Ianto, speaking directly in his ear. Ianto jumped, turned, and stammered an apology.

"Oh, go on. Touch it. It likes to be touched." Jack paused and grinned, then bit the tip of his tongue.

"Does this thing go to Narnia?"

"Ianto... did you just make a... joke?"

"S-sorry, sir. I. I didn't mean..."

Jack sighed and sat down on the edge of the cot, scooting to lean his back against the wall. He patted the empty space next to him, at the foot of the bed. "Sit down, Ianto. And stop calling me 'sir'. It's after hours."

"Yes, sir. Jack. Sir." Ianto flinched and sat down, perching near the edge.

Jack closed his eyes and sighed again. He wished he could sleep. Of course, even if he could, the questions rolling around in his head would prevent it. If curiosity didn't kill the cat it certainly kept it up all night.

"Ianto, I have to know. How did you get... that..."

"Lisa," Ianto interrupted.

"Into our basement?"

"When I came here, do you remember that I brought things from Torchwood One?"

Jack had been distracted then, working on something the others weren't privy to. He would occasionally come out of hiding long enough to consult with Tosh on something, then disappear again. Owen had been the one to help Ianto bring things into The Hub, and while he'd been curious, Ianto was careful enough to keep some things well hidden.Ianto had even gone so far as to use a cloaking device rescued from the wreckage of Torchwood One. Slowly he explained this to Jack, going on to tell him how he'd slip off and assemble parts of the machine when everyone was out. Not when they were gone for the night, obviously, since Jack was there, but when they'd chase down some bit of tech or investigate a sighting, Ianto would put together more of the conversion unit, following Lisa's guidance.

"What I don't understand is why you actually put the conversion tools in and made them operational."

"I didn't. I hadn't. I suppose she did that. I suppose she wasn't as weak as she claimed. I'm so sorry, si... Jack."

Jack opened one eye and looked at Ianto. He looked pale, miserable, and still as if he expected to be punished. Ianto had watched his girlfriend be turned into something that was more machine than flesh, then he watched her die, and then he witnessed the Frankenstein freakiness of her brain in some strange girl's body. Not to mention he'd nearly died at the hands of the woman he desperately tried to save. No punishment he could give would ever equal the punishment Ianto was probably inflicting on himself. He touched Ianto's cheek and ran his thumb across Ianto's lower lip.

"You kissed me." Ianto said.

"That wasn't a kiss. I saved your life."

"Even after everything I'd done. Why?"

Jack shrugged and casually toyed with Ianto's earlobe. "That sort of loyalty is hard to find. I wasn't going to let you go that easily." He moved his hand to the back of Ianto's neck and pulled him closer.

Ianto leaned in slowly, his eyes darting from Jack's eyes to Jack's mouth, then freezing open as Jack's mouth caught his. It was warm, soft, almost hesitant and there was something sweet about Jack's lips. Literally sweet, as if he were wearing some sort of gloss like the teenage girls favoured. Sweet like candy floss.

Ianto's eyes were closing. His entire body felt as if the gravity were suddenly turned up and he sagged heavily against Jack's shoulder. Jack's arms slipped around him, one hand lightly stroking his hair and ear and neck, the other under his arm, supporting him. Jack cradled him like a child, even rocking him gently.

"You're going to forget most of what happened. I'm sorry, but it's the only way. That sort of loyalty is so hard to find. I just need to be certain that your loyalty is to me and to Torchwood and nothing else. The good news is you won't even remember that you've forgotten her."