"You're rather quiet tonight," Ianto mused as he and Jack lie side-by-side in the dark.

Jack remained quiet for an extra beat. Then he turned his head just a fraction toward his lover. "Maybe you blew out my vocal cords," he said. Ianto couldn't quite see his smirk but he could certainly hear it.

"If only," Ianto muttered, and this time it was Jack who could hear the roll of his lover's eyes in his tone. "Why are you quiet?" Ianto persisted after a while, reaching over to cover Jack's hand with his.

Again Jack didn't respond for a few moments. "Night before a mission," Jack said, just a bit of tightness in his voice.

That confirmed what Ianto had thought it was. He knew that Jack knew Tommy's fate in 1918 and he wasn't surprised Jack was eating himself up over having to send him back into shell-shock. "Come on, Captain," Ianto said encouragingly, squeezing his hand.

"I know what happens to him," Jack said softly, wearily. "I know what happens to so many of those Tommies – most of them a lot younger than this particular Tommy. Not that that makes any difference."

Ianto hated this – when something brought up some batch of incredibly difficult memories for Jack. And there were plenty such memories to pick from. Jack blamed himself for far more than any man, immortal or otherwise, could ever hope to have helped.

And yet, at the same time, Ianto felt selfish for wanting to use the opportunity to get Jack to talk a bit about the past that he usually kept sealed off.

"Edward Whitney was only 16," Jack whispered, and immediately Ianto knew what he needed, pulling Jack into his arms.

"You didn't kill him, Jack," Ianto said with quiet confidence, rubbing Jack's back.

"No. He killed himself when the shelling started again after the previous round blasted his best friend to bits right in front of him."

Ianto managed to suppress a flinch and just held Jack tighter.

"I died a dozen times during the course of that war… shelled, shot, gassed. Twice at Passchendaele. I had no business coming back when they didn't. It's been 90 years…."

Ianto continued steadily, rhythmically stroking Jack's back and shoulders.

"Knowing what I'm sending him back in to…."

"What would happen if you didn't?" Ianto asked, though he knew the answer fairly well.

"Time would continue to rupture around us, paradoxes…," Jack said flatly.

"So, there's not really much of a choice, is there?" Ianto said gently.

"There never is," Jack said.

"I know, Jack."

"He's so young, though," Jack whispered.

Ianto was silent himself for a few moments. When he thought about it, 90 year difference notwithstanding, he and Tommy were of an age. Was that how Jack saw him as well? As if his mind had been read (and Ianto wasn't always convinced Jack couldn't, when he really wanted to), Jack's arms were suddenly tightly, fiercely wrapped around Ianto.

"I would never… never send you into a situation like that," Jack swore.

'Unless it was your duty,' Ianto thought, without any acrimony.

"Not half the soldier people think I am… thought I was," Jack said wryly, again as if responding to Ianto's thoughts.

"No. You're better. That's what makes you such a good Captain," Ianto said, pressing his lips to Jack's forehead.