It had been such an easy week for Torchwood that it was tempting to think the Rift had packed it in and headed for other climes. It was so quiet, Jack and Ianto had even managed to sneak in an overnight trip to a quiet little coastal cottage. The drive out was relaxing, dinner was perfection, lounging in the garden with a glass of sherry was peaceful, and sex without cramped bunker, neighbouring flats, or coitus interruptus by Weevil or colleague was rapturous. It was, in short, the ideal getaway.

That was, until about 1:30 AM. It certainly wasn't the first time Jack had woken crying out in terror, but it had been quite some while, and considering how quiet things had been, there seemed to be no reason for it. For a few moments, Jack was stuck inside his dream. Ianto wasn't in bed beside him, and Jack was sure that meant it wasn't just a dream but a relived experience.

Jack almost jumped out of his skin when Ianto hurried back in from the en-suite with a glass of water. "What happened? Jack, are you alright?" Ianto asked, bleary but alarmed.

"Ianto… oh, god… why? Why did you…."

Ianto was confused that Jack was that upset by his getting out of bed for two minutes. "I woke up thirsty," he said, sitting down beside Jack and pulling him into his arms. "What's wrong, Jack?"

"You woke up…. No. No, I saw you…. You… just like Alex did."

Ianto took a breath. Jack had never talked about it, but Ianto knew the archives forward and back. He knew how Jack had ended up leading Torchwood 3 at the moment the millennium turned. "No, Jack, no. You had a dream, cariad. That didn't happen. I'm right here. I would never do that, Jack. To you least of all."

Jack took a few deep breaths, inhaling the scent of sex and lavender and black pepper and his own pheromones and roasted coffee beans that clung to Ianto's skin. "Promise?" Jack murmured against Ianto's shoulder.

"Of course I do, Jack. If I ever go… it won't be my choice."

Jack wrapped Ianto in a tight hug. "Then I won't let it be anybody else's choice, either," he whispered fiercely.

Ianto had a feeling that wasn't exactly in Jack's power either, but just held Jack and stroked his back until his heartbeat calmed to normal. One quiet week in Torchwood and Jack's subconscious was already inventing nightmares to fill the vacuum. Maybe run off their feet chasing Weevils wasn't such a bad thing after all.