THREE EDGED SWORD

As far as Jack Harkness was concerned Ianto Jones understood many things. He had a knack of sifting through facts and analysing situations and people that went far beyond his young age. His ability to read people was second to none and Jack didn't think that lightly. If there was one thing that Jack was certain of it was that Ianto would always get to the truth of things. He would know how best to handle the truth and how to share it with his colleagues. After all Ianto understood the power of a lie better than anyone because he was a lie himself. Ianto was the metaphorical three edged blade, a lie on one side, the truth on the other and somewhere in between was his honesty.

Ianto's honesty came out at the most difficult of times. It was puzzling and frightening but when it happened Ianto bared the very depths of his complex and secretive soul for all to see. Jack treasured those moments, no matter how painful they were to witness. These were the times when he saw the courage, rage and raw desire from this extremely restrained young man. He blazed in those moments wielding his passion like a broadsword and anyone who stood in the way didn't stand a chance. Jack realised it was usually him that took the blow. He realised that he would take it every time if it meant he would gain a glimpse of the real man that Ianto was.

Jack would accept everything that Ianto threw at him because he loved him unconditionally and that terrified him more than any Dalek or Cyberman would.

Unfortunately there were things that Jack didn't know how to handle. Ianto's anger, fear and pain were easy. He could deal with that through physical comfort, encouragement and even argument. It allowed Ianto to vent his frustrations in order to help solve his own problems and indulge in great sex. Jack was never one to turn down angry sex.

However there were some things that had Jack running for the hills, moments of kindness and delivered coffees at three am. The patient cleaning up of spilled blood and other bodily discharges after one of his deaths followed by the laundering of his soiled clothes. Ianto did so many things, quietly and without expectation and always the soul of discretion. The power of his understated gestures left Jack wondering what it was he had done to deserve such unbending loyalty.

Ianto did not give such things easily.

Jack understood loyalty. He had seen it in the men and women he had served with over the long years of his life. He had seen it in the bond between the Doctor and Rose Tyler. Loyalty was natural to most humans on some levels, but for Ianto it came at the price of his own heart and very nearly his sanity. It seemed to Jack, that in Ianto's world view loyalty and love meant the same thing. You could not have one without the other. It was why it had been so hard for Ianto during those months of caring for Lisa. His love for her coming into direct conflict with his sense of duty, and the sullying of his morals through lies and deceit almost destroyed him.

The guilt was drowning him, even now 18 months on.

Jack could see it in the fine, tight lines around Ianto's beautiful eyes and rigidity of his of his back. Jack knew there was no cure for this, only a hope that one day Ianto would forgive himself for surviving and move forward with becoming an even greater man than he was now.

Ianto would never see his own greatness. Jack could understand that. Ianto just did his job, taking care of the team and Torchwood itself like a steadfast soldier in the guise of a butler. It was a terrible beauty to behold.

One thing Jack could be absolutely sure of, he could not ask for a better person at his side and to his shame he used that to his own advantage every day. Not that Ianto was some kind of a push over. The Welshman had argued his case on so many occasions. Of, course Ianto would never scream his defiance like Gwen often did. Ianto would fight a private war of paperwork and decaf coffee and any time he disagreed with Jack he publicly supported him but Jack always knew when Ianto disapproved. The signs were very small, like the quirk of an eyebrow or a sceptical roll of those beautiful blues, the depth of a smile measuring his annoyance by degrees of fondness.

Jack loved the challenge, was terrified by it and learnt from it. He often thought the Doctor could take lessons from Ianto Jones.

Jack was pulled from his musings by the comforting scent of Javanese coffee. The mug was placed at his left side. Jack glanced up and met Gwen's eyes, his worry reflected there.

"Thank you Gwen."

She stepped back. "Hopefully Ianto won't disapprove too much, I had to use the plunger rather than risk touching that machine of his."

It was cold in the autopsy bay and Jack watched as she rubbed at her arms. "How is he doing?"

Jack followed her gaze to the man lying on the metal table. One of the rare times that Ianto looked happy was when he was unconscious. Jack ran his fingers through dirt matted hair, mindful of the machinery keeping him alive. The wires and tubes reminded him too much of Lisa and the irony wasn't lost on him.

"Tea Boy will be just fine." Owen's harsh London accent cut through the chilly air, bouncing off the white tiled walls uncomfortably. "He's out of danger now. Should come round soon, but he's gonna need some looking after over the next few weeks."

There was something like awe on Gwen's face. "He saved my life Jack." She spoke quietly and looked like she was barely holding herself together.

Jack nodded, understanding. "He saves mine every time I wake up from Death."

AN: No idea where this came from but I think I was venting because I was really angry after watching the 'daily politics show' at lunchtime today and I needed some Ianto therapy to calm me down...