The hub was uncharacteristically quiet, Gwen lay slumped at her desk fiddling with the oddly shaped artefact that they had yet to discover a purpose for, and Toshiko was adjusting the photographs around her computer screen, glancing hopefully over at Owen who was attempts at a card pyramid lay in disarray around his elbows. Ianto was, as usual, by the coffee machine this time concocting a new blend using cappuccino, chocolate and something which smelt suspiciously like raw onion. There was silence except for the humming of computers and the beep of the rift monitor every minute or so. Only Ianto looked up when there beloved leader bounded through the cog door and quickly became enveloped by the wave of boredom that seemed to wash from the team.

"Jack we're bored!" grumbled Owen, with the voice of a petulant school child

"This rift activity's been going on for two days now and nothings even happened" Gwen chipped in.

Jack raised his eyebrows and half-smiled, "why don't you kids go out for a drink and I'll keep an eye on things here"

"You don't need to tell me twice" replied Owen, and knowing it was foolish to pass up any opportunity for time off whilst working at Torchwood the girls grabbed their coats and followed Owen out through the cog door.

"Still here?" enquired Jack, Ianto Jones still stood by the coffee machine, still mixing ingredients and breathing in the strong scent of coffee.

"I've got to um, catch up on some filing sir" replied Ianto

Jack hid a smile, in the year that he had known Ianto he had never once forgotten to file away a report and the idea had become something of a code between them. Ianto 'catching up on some filing' meant him waiting until the others had left, and then coming up to Jacks office to test out the recently repaired stopwatch.

"How was your day" Jack questioned

"not the most interesting," admitted Ianto, "I worked out that there are 525,600 minutes in a year and that's about it"

Jack laughed, in his time away on the Valiant memory of Ianto and his sharp wit had been one of the things that had sustained him. He began to make his way up to his office in the hope that Ianto would follow,

"but it makes you think sir"

Jack turned round

" 525600 minutes. We're so small compared to everything in the universe, so insignificant, how do we mark it out, make our lives count? With everything that happens to us how do we measure a year?"

Jack couldn't think of an answer to the question, he had lived such a long life that a year seemed like a comparably short amount of time despite the amount that happened to him. Luckily the younger man had turned away and begun to walk down into the archives.

Jack continued up the cold metal staircase entered his office, shrugging of his great coat he threw himself down in his old comfy chair.

How did you measure a year?

In Sunsets

Jack thought of the time that he and Ianto had sat up on the roof of the hub at dusk so that they could watch the autumn sunset. Holding each other close just to keep warm, Ianto had snuggled into Jack's greatcoat and it was the first time in years that Jack had really felt safe. He wrapped his arms tightly around Ianto's shivering body and rubbed his hands across the wool of Ianto's suit until he was warm again. As the sky had darkened they had laid together on a blanket brought up from Jack's quarters, Jack resting his head on Ianto's chest and Ianto running soft skilful fingers through his hair. Jack remembered listening to Ianto's slow, steady breathing and closing his eyes, falling for the first time in years into a deep peaceful sleep.

In cups of coffee

Jack remembered the first time that Ianto had brought him coffee, a cold December morning, a strange man waiting outside the tourist information office. Jack remembered how he had almost refused Ianto a job at Torchwood, he was startled to realise how much he would have missed out on if he had done this. He would never have got to know Ianto Jones and everything he loved about him. The soft curl of his hair, the way he smiled and rolled his eyes when Jack made some flirtatious comment, and the darkness, that frightening magic deep inside him that he only revealed to Jack. Since he had known Ianto he must have drunk hundreds of cups of his coffee, sweet, hot and delicious a little like the man who made it there was little that Jack wouldn't do just to get a taste. Jack savoured the memory of the scent of coffee beans on his lover's skin and the taste of dark chocolate on his lips. Jack swore that there was something else in that coffee, something addictive that made him fall for Ianto harder than he had ever fallen for anyone else, and even if he new how to, he didn't want to quit.

In Midnights

Jack remembered the time that he had woken to find Ianto still at the hub after dark. Staring into Toshiko's computer screen, tears staining his cheeks. Jack glanced over at the clock, it had just past midnight. Jack walked over to the Welshman and placed a hand on his shoulder, Ianto flinched at his touch. "What have you got?" he had asked, the question hung in the air and seemed foolish when there were so many thing he wanted to say to Ianto. Ianto had given his understated reply and turned round to look at Jack. Looking deep into the silver dribbled pools of Ianto's eyes and seeing them darken, Jack had raised his hand to caress Ianto's shoulder.

"Talk to me" he had said

That night Jack listened, to Ianto's stories about his father, his sister but oddly never his mother, how the boys at school had pushed him over for hanging around with the girls in the playground, how he's left school at sixteen to try and find work. About Lisa and how he still missed her even though he knew that she had been dead long before the team had shot her, Jack listened to Ianto's confusion to his anger and to a soul that was broken and scarred. By 2am Ianto lay in Jack's arms on the small sofa under the Torchwood underground sign. Tears were still coursing silently down cheeks but Jack lay his head on Ianto's chest and listened to the beat of his heart and it had felt steadier and more even than before. All through the night someone had protected Ianto from the nightmares, kissing away the tears that made steady and persistent tracks across his soft cheeks.