Chapter One

There are many secrets in us, in the depths of our souls, that we don't want anyone to know about. ~Charles Durning

It had been a long day and a hard night for the Torchwood team.

Emma Cowell had decided to go to London, and Jack had listened to Gwen question and complain about the young woman's decision for hours. They'd just met, but Gwen was already acting like her mother, or an overbearing older sister; Jack couldn't help but think maybe it was best that Emma went out on her own. She had a good head, a strong heart, and a sense of adventure. She might even be good Torchwood material in a few years, once she experienced the 21st century—and London— in all its dubious glory.

Then there was Diane Holmes, and Owen's clear infatuation with the pilot, but the less Jack thought about that the better.

Of all three travelers, John Ellis had struggled the most. Jack understood how hard it was to adapt; he'd had to do it dozens of times with the Time Agency, and adjusting to a time not one's own was always a challenge. Yet he'd chosen those assignments, because he'd enjoyed the challenge. John had not chosen to be stranded fifty years in the future, in a time he didn't recognize, where everyone he knew was old and gone.

Maybe he could have tried harder to help John live instead of watch him die, but Jack couldn't regret what was done. John's family had already lost him fifty years ago; there was no one to mourn him. He had lost everything, particularly his son, and had seen little to live for. So Jack had made sure that John wasn't alone at the end, his Christmas gift to a broken man.

Jack hated dying, and asphyxiation by carbon monoxide was particularly harsh. His body may have regenerated, but the effects lingered, and Jack felt tired, weak, and slightly nauseous for several hours after. Fortunately, the others were long gone—all except Ianto, of course. It was his car John had stolen, and now it was ruined. There would be no cleaning it, not after such a long exposure to the noxious fumes, and Jack doubted Ianto would want to use it again anyway, knowing a man had died in it.

After cleaning up and snacking on some plain biscuits he found tucked away in the kitchen—he even made hot tea to dunk them in, which was always a mark of how bad he was feeling—Jack decided to go in search of Ianto. He had not seen the Welshman much all day; Ianto had been busy, working diligently on something somewhere in the Hub, and distant whenever Jack had encountered him. In fact, he'd been distracted for weeks, particularly for the past several days, and Jack suspected it did not have to do with their time-traveling guests.

It was Ianto's first Christmas since the fall of Torchwood One and the death of his girlfriend. Jack knew from experience that the holidays were hard after losing someone, and thought about how he might help. He and Ianto did not talk much; their form of comfort and coping was more physical, but it was what he could offer.

Ianto was not in the main part of the Hub and no longer in the tourist office, which meant he was most likely in the archives, either sorting and cataloging in the stacks, or working at the computer he'd set up in a small office nearby. To Jack's surprise, the office was empty, and a quick shout into the main room of the archives produced no answer. Jack wondered if Ianto had gone home without saying anything, but his coat was still upstairs, so unless he had left in a hurry, he was somewhere in the Hub.

More searching, including the room where Lisa had died, failed to produce any sign of the young man, and Jack wished he'd worn his comm so he could call—assuming Ianto even had his. Jack decided to go back upstairs and look through the CCTV, to reassure himself that Ianto was all right. And they should probably talk about replacing his car.

Heading toward the main part of the Hub, he almost ran into Ianto coming up the stairs from one of the lower levels they rarely, if ever, used anymore. Caught by surprise, Ianto stepped back, a fleeting moment of something that resembled panic crossing his face as he tucked his arms behind his back. Jack felt his own flash of fear, that Ianto was downstairs, sneaking around, hiding something, looking guilty. He tried to shake it off, putting the thought from his mind. Ianto was a trusted member of his team. After what had happened with Lisa Hallet, Jack knew Ianto would not betray them—or him—again.

Besides, they were sleeping together. Ianto couldn't keep another big secret, could he?

Jack forced himself to smile, even though he couldn't quite stamp out the flicker of uncertainty in his gut. He hated doubting Ianto, but when it came to keeping secrets, the man was almost as good as Jack, and could probably pull off another if he put his mind to it. But what, and why? In the time since he'd returned to work, Ianto had proven himself loyal to Torchwood. And surely, he hadn't fallen into bed with Jack only to betray him again?

"Hey there," he said, hoping his voice sounded more casual than he felt. "What're you doing down here? It's freezing," he added, hoping to cover up any hint of accusation.

Ianto nodded. "Which is why I was heading back to my office. Or maybe upstairs for something warm to drink."

Jack stepped out of the way and they walked back toward the archives office together. "It's late, you know," Jack pointed out. "You should be at home, tucked up warm in your bed."

"While visions of sugar plums dance in my head?" Ianto asked dryly. Jack laughed.

"It is Christmas Eve. What's so important you're wandering around down here?" He glanced sideways at Ianto and noticed a smudge of dirt on his face. "And getting dirty without me?"

Ianto rubbed at his cheek and shrugged. "Nothing much. Came across something I wanted to check out."

"What's that?"

There was only the slightest hesitation, and it probably didn't mean anything.

"A smuggler's cavern nearby."

"Really?" Jack asked. "I've been here a while and never seen anything like that." He hoped Ianto wasn't making it up to cover his real reasons for roaming the lower levels.

"I was reading some files from 1955," Ianto said. "The year they went missing, to see if there was any mention of the Rift event that took the plane." He paused and made a face. "I read through almost all the cases from that year, and not a thing. Except a strange off-hand reference to an underground cavern that might make a good bomb shelter. Or party cave."

"Oh, I remember hearing about that now!" Jack exclaimed. "The Torchwood clubhouse. We tried to find it once too."

Jack could have sworn Ianto looked hopeful. "Tried?" he asked.

"Never found it," Jack answered without offering more. He certainly couldn't tell Ianto it had been 1928 when he'd gone searching for the fabled cave. Ianto probably had his suspicions about Jack, but Jack wasn't ready to share that part of himself. And considering he'd never found such a cave in over a century of wandering around the Hub, he half believed it was a tall tale told by Torchwood agents to the next generation to send them on a wild goose chase through the dark lower levels.

"Right," Ianto said, and now he sounded disappointed. "Well, no luck here either, and now I'm an icicle."

"I could warm you up," Jack offered, offering a suggestive look.

Ianto sighed. "I appreciate it, but it's been a long day. I think I'll call a cab and head home. I hadn't realized how long I was wandering around down there."

"If you're sure," Jack replied. He was disappointed, but he would never admit it. Whatever was going on between him and Ianto was casual. It was good and he was enjoying it more and more, but it was still casual. They were under no obligation to spend every night together, particularly Christmas.

Ianto nodded, turned off the lights, and they started upstairs toward the main part of the Hub. "Maybe tomorrow?" Jack suggested.

There was again the slightest hesitation. "Actually, I was planning on seeing my family. Assuming aliens don't decide to invade Cardiff instead of London this year."

"Of course," Jack said. He was slightly surprised, as he hadn't thought about Ianto having a family. Of course he did. He probably didn't see them much since he seemed to spend as much time working as Jack, but obviously he'd want to be with them for Christmas. Which meant it would be another quiet, lonely night for Jack.

"What about Wednesday? Assuming Boxing Day doesn't bring out the Weevils?" Ianto turned toward him, looking worried and apprehensive. "We could pick up some dinner and go back to mine, if you—"

"Yes," Jack said, a warm feeling in his chest moving him to accept immediately. They might be nothing more than coworkers with benefits, but that didn't mean he couldn't look forward to seeing Ianto after Christmas and spending time with him. Especially if much of it was spent in bed.

"Right," said Ianto, looking surprised at Jack's quick response. "Well, call me if there are any alien incursions before then." They reached the main part of the Hub and Ianto went over to his station, where he shut everything down before pulling on his coat. He struggled with his sleeve before looking up. "Jack…I'm sorry about John."

"I'm sorry about your car," Jack replied, but Ianto shook his head.

"It's just a car," he said. "One I happened to like, but it can be replaced."

"We could go shopping sometime, if you wanted," Jack said.

"I might take you up on that," Ianto said, smiling. "Are you okay? About John?"

"I'm okay," Jack answered. "And you? I know it's been a hard year."

Ianto looked down, toed the ground. "I'm okay," he replied, nodding as if trying to reassure himself. "Work keeps me going. Thank you for asking."

Jack tucked his hands into his pockets. Ianto looked tired and worn out. He definitely worked too much, but Jack understood how sometimes it was the only thing that helped one get through the hard times. "Well, enjoy your day off, you've earned it. I'll see you Wednesday."

"Good night," Ianto said. "Happy Christmas, Jack."

"Happy Christmas, Ianto."

Jack watched him leave before turning back toward his office. He'd have a drink, maybe keep an eye on London, and try to survive yet another a sad and solitary Christmas.

Author's Note:
I seem to be slowing down these days when it comes to writing, but one more crazy idea grabbed me, so enjoy. It's about five chapters, with a chapter a week or two should things not get too busy with the holidays (though they probably will!) Thank you for reading!