Author's Note: Allo there! This is a coda to "The Sin Eaters", the Torchwood audiobook. Won't make sense unless you've heard it.


Conceit: [\kən-ˈsēt\] In literature and poetry, a device of analogy consisting of an extended metaphor.

When Jack left, Ianto went for the cat.

It had been bothering him all day. The idea of a cat stalking around the archives, kneading the Sub-Dalarian Sand Pod, curling up on top of the decommissioned 1930's water heater that had just appeared against the wall one day in one of the back rooms, leaping from shelf to shelf in some kind of retribution for his admittedly dangerous method of capture that afternoon.

"Psst-psst-psst-" Ianto made the sounds he'd always heard other people use when trying to draw out cats, shaking a piece of cod he'd nicked from Myfanwy's supply. He was doubled over in the archives, moving slowly in the yellow-brown light through the old fixtures, which seemed to cast shadows more than they illuminated. His bare feet padded on the cold stone floor, his dress shirt hanging unbuttoned over that day's suit trousers, thrown hastily on in the dark of Jack's bunk. "Cat," he called softly. He refused to call her by what was on her collar. Whoever had named her needed some pointers. Not that "Barnacle Bill" had been particularly witty. Maybe his game was off.

There was a shuffle to his right, and he paused, turning his head ever so slightly in that direction. A soft meow issued from beneath a metal shelf. Ianto proffered the cod slowly toward the source of the sound, and a small, hesitant nose appeared out of the dark. It was followed by a tabby head, brown and black, eyes gleaming at the sight of the fish. Ever dignified, the cat slipped out into the light and padded over to where Ianto was crouched, raising her head to sniff the food. Ianto lowered it so that she could reach it easier, and she bit in, purring.

Ianto settled to sit with his legs crossed, holding his head up with his hand, elbow on knee, the other hand still holding on to the fish. Rhiannon had a cat, when they were kids. Minky. It was an ugly bastard, but it loved Rhi. Hated Ianto. Pissed on his pillow every other bloody day. It finally ran away when Ianto trapped it in an old wooden crate in the back yard. Rhi had hated him for it, but his bed had certainly begun to smell better thereafter. And Rhi got a puppy.

"I'm a dog person, if anything," Ianto said conversationally. "Not that you aren't nice. But you're too quiet, cats. I need to know that something's there."

There was a loud bang as something fell off of one of the archival shelves, and Ianto looked over his shoulder to see Jack stooping to pick up and replace a wide sheet of alien metal. He grinned sheepishly at Ianto. "Whoops. My spy entrance failed."

"What would Bond think of you?" Jack came a bit closer, and Ianto wrinkled his nose slightly. "You smell like petrol."

Jack shrugged. "That place needed torching."

Ianto didn't disagree. He looked back at the cat; she was licking the last traces of cod from his fingers. Then, finished, she climbed into Ianto's lap and settled there, purring against the inside of his leg.

"She likes you," Jack said, stepping around Ianto to get a look at her in his lap.

"Can't imagine why." Ianto looked down at her. "She was attempting to claw my face off a few hours ago."

"Aw, no she wasn't." Jack bent down and scooped the cat up into his arms, settling her against his chest. He rubbed his chin on the top of her head. "She was scared. All you have to do is show her a little kindness and she warms right up to you."

Ianto looked up at Jack cuddling the cat and kept his smile from touching his lips. "What are we going to do with her?"

Jack grinned, running his fingers through her fur. "Can't we keep her?"

"That's not one of the options. I don't want her messing about down here, getting into trouble."

"We can keep her in the Hub."

"We can put her outside and hope she goes home."

Jack raised an eyebrow, but Ianto's face was deadly serious, still looking up at him from where he sat on the floor. Sighing, Jack acquiesced. "Fine," he said. "But she's probably going to be hanging around out there still, anyway, now that we've fed her."

Ianto rose and brushed off his trousers. "Jack, don't think I don't know about that psychic explosion. The Hub was still reporting traces of psychic energy when I came in the next morning."

Jack smirked. "What happened to not knowing why she was there?"

"Little dignities kept during the day are aired at night. And I wanted to see if you would lie to me."

Jack looked mock-hurt. "You mean you tricked me, Ianto Jones?"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Ianto said, then caught himself. He looked surprised, and chastened. "I'm sorry," he said immediately, his voice soft, stunned.

Jack, his own eyes having gone wide at the incredible slip, cleared his throat and shook his head. "Don't worry about it." They stood for a moment, awkward on opposite edges of the sudden chasm between them. But Jack stepped forward and put a hand on Ianto's cheek. "Really," he said. "Don't worry about it." And Ianto nodded into the hand, meeting the eyes of the cat, who looked out at him and blinked from the middle of Jack's chest.

Ianto smiled slightly. "She has to go, before you get attached to her."

Jack sighed and looked down at her. "Too late," he said, and gathered her a little higher before he began to move slowly along the corridor toward the Hub. "I like cats. There's some kind of quiet mystery about them."

"You like a thing you can unravel," Ianto said, walking beside him.

Jack looked at him and smiled. "Yes I do."