Title: A Matter of Choice

Characters/pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Owen, Tosh, Lisa, past Ianto/Lisa

Warnings (including spoilers): Scenes of a sexual nature deserving a rating of T, some swears, discussion of transgender issues (warning for the easily squicked). Mild spoilers for Doctor Who's Utopia sequence, aka the Year That Never Was (who comes up with these names?), and Torchwood series 2 up to Martha's episodes.

Wordcount: 37,205 words, in five parts plus prologue.

AN: Unbeta'd, un-Brit-picked, but informed with quite a bit of reading and some consultation. Also filling my H/C Bingo square for 'Trust Issues,' which should tell you something about the story.

Summary: Jack is back, but his team has lost faith in him. He must decide how dedicated he is to Torchwood in order to earn back their trust. Meanwhile, he's trying to cultivate a new relationship with an attractive barista who's hiding a secret of his own. Will Jack and Ianto be able to balance the hidden parts of their lives, or will the secrets they're keeping tear them both apart?

[*]

.

"Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for. It is a thing to be achieved." William Jennings Bryan

.

Prologue

1988

In a well-kept neighborhood fifteen minutes outside of Cardiff, a young girl ran, elbows pumping, trainers nearly skidding on the wet paved road. Her long blond hair flowed behind her as she looked over her shoulder, screaming and giggling, at her pursuer. A few steps behind her, a slightly taller girl wore a determined look, shouting with exhilaration.

At the end of the street the blonde slowed and ducked into a copse of trees in someone's front yard. Her friend kept up speed and caught her by the back of her pink dress and tugged her to a stop.

"I've got you Mary!" the taller girl cried between heavy breaths. "I'm faster." She grinned and let go of the dress, plopping down at the foot of a tree.

"It's only 'cause you're older," Mary complained, sitting down beside her friend.

"I'll be the fastest in school," the other girl bragged. "I'll be the fastest in Wales!" She looked at Mary, who looked sad all of a sudden. "What's wrong?"

Mary sniffed. "I don't want you to start primary," she said, beginning to cry. "I'll miss you."

Her friend put her arm around her shoulder and patted her awkwardly. "We can still play."

"It's not the same," Mary shook her head. A few strands of her hair caught on her wet cheeks.

After a moment of staring, the other girl pecked her on the lips. Mary looked up at her friend, surprised enough to forget her tears.

"Hilary, you're supposed to kiss boys."

Hilary swallowed. "I am a boy."

Mary looked around them, but only the low-hanging branches of the trees were visible. She looked at Hilary and tilted her head. "But you look like a girl."

Hilary held a chunk of her hair in front of her face with a frown. It was dark brown and curly and fell to her shoulders. She was wearing a light blue blouse with a frilly neck and her jeans had flowery embroidery up to the knee on one side.

"It's my parents' fault. The don't let me wear boys' clothes."

"Okay…" Mary thought for a moment. "I guess it's okay then."

Hilary smiled and kissed Mary again. This time, Mary giggled.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend?"

Hilary sprang up and ran. "Only if you can catch me!"

.

1998

Hilary glared at his textbook as Mary and Mike talked to each other in low, personal tones on the other side of the picnic table. He ignored them for several minutes until, finally, he sighed loudly.

Mary broke away from her boyfriend's eyes and gave Hilary a disdainful look. "What is it with you? Come on, it's the first nice day in a month, we're all at the park, why can't you just enjoy yourself?"

"We've been here half an hour and you haven't even looked around. You can cuddle just as easily at your house, where at least I can watch the television."

"You just want to watch rugby," Mary spat.

"Hey, nothin' wrong with that," Mike argued, grinning.

Mary glared at him. "Stay out of this." Mike looked away and Mary directed her gaze back to Hilary. "You're never going to get a boyfriend like this. This stupid haircut, and those clothes, you look horrible."

"I look the way I want to look." Hilary ran a hand through his hair, cut close to his scalp, letting the new but already familiar motion comfort him. "You know why I don't want to wear all those trendy clothes you try to force on me, those skirts," he said with disgust.

Mary shook her head and kept shaking it when he slammed the textbook shut. "It was a laugh when we were kids, Hilary. But things have changed. People at school, they're starting to think you're a lesbian," she whispered, looking around at the nearly empty picnic site as thought someone might overhear. "And I can't keep covering for you."

"I don't want you to cover for me, I want you to accept me!" Hilary's voice rose and he huffed at the fear in Mary's eyes. "Afraid people will figure out what kind of freak you hang out with?"

"I don't have to listen to this," Mary stood up. She gave Mike a kiss and said, "I'll see you at the gate tomorrow." With a last glare for Hilary, she spun away, long blond hair catching the sun as she left.

Hilary hunched over the table, the button-up shirt he'd nicked from the back of his father's closet sagging on his lean frame.

Mike stood up and rounded the table. "Hey," he said, nudging Hilary's shoulder until he looked up at Mike suspiciously. "Look, I don't know about the lesbian stuff, and I don't care. I think you're alright." He held out his hand to shake, and Hilary took it slowly. "And if you want, you can watch the rugby at mine. You said your tad don't like you to watch it at home, right?"

Hilary nodded, beginning to smile. "Yeah, thanks mate."

Mike nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets before walking away.

.

2001

Hilary stuffed the last box into the beat-up two-door and slammed the passenger side shut. He rounded back to the sidewalk, where Mike was standing awkwardly, hands still stuffed in his ugly long overcoat.

"I just don't see why you can't at least stay in Cardiff," he continued their argument. "There's loads of culture here at home, and diversity and what-not."

Hilary shook his head. "I need a fresh start." He looked back at the house he'd grown up in, the windows all dark, then at the For Sale sign on the lawn, in plain view of the whole street. The whole street that was wordlessly watching him prepare to leave from their patios and behind their curtains.

Mike shrugged and nodded, looking around and chewing on his cheeks. "I guess I can see that." He focused on the house next to Hilary's.

Following his gaze, Hilary turned in time to see a curtain fall in place before a teary young woman with long blond hair. "What happened there," he asked, "I thought you and she had-"

"Broke up," Mike interrupted. "Not much to it, really." He shuffled, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "I should go, my shift starts in a few." He moved forward with arms out, but one outstretched, and they ended up in a mildly uncomfortable hug-handshake, then grinned and slapped the others' backs.

"I'll call you when I get a place," Hilary promised. "I'm looking at this hostel on the outskirts of London, cheap enough."

"Right. Good luck then, Hilary."

"Hey, wait." Hilary's brow furrowed in concentration. "I wanted to tell you, I chose a name. Just last night, in fact."

"Oh yeah?" Mike asked, smiling for the first time. "What is it?"

His friend grinned. "Ianto. I'm Ianto Jones."