One

Jack was impressed.

He didn't want to be impressed. He wanted to be angry, upset, or even just slightly irritated. Though he wasn't one to hold grudges for long, the entire team had been in grave danger—the entire world, really—by the presence of a Cyberman in the basement of the Hub. His Hub, the Torchwood he had worked so hard to build. Ianto had betrayed them all by bringing it there. Jack had been shocked and scared and hurt, even furious for a while, but he couldn't quite understand why he wasn't angry anymore…just sad, guilty, and reluctantly impressed.

He shouldn't have been shocked. He had known from the first week Ianto Jones had arrived that the man was good. Ianto had been at Torchwood London for only a few years, and even if his record had been unremarkable, just being there meant he was clever and hard-working and knew what Torchwood needed on a day-to-day basis. In the aftermath of Canary Wharf, Ianto had obviously tracked down Jack and practically forced him to offer up a job at Torchwood Three through the almost brazen set-up of a Weevil rescue, a pterodactyl to capture, and an incredible cup of coffee. That Ianto might have had other motives had caught Jack by surprise, but he should not have been shocked at what Ianto had accomplished. The man was stronger than he looked, that much was obvious, especially now.

It hurt, though: betrayal always did, though Jack was forced to admit to himself that a large part of that involved his own guilt for the part he had played in allowing it to happen. Ianto had thrown ugly words at him, most of which had been true, and though Jack rarely let it get to him, this time it did. He felt guilty for not seeing it sooner, for allowing Ianto to isolate himself from the team so completely—for not making the attempt to draw him out of his quiet shell. That's what they usually did at Torchwood, after all: kept to themselves. Ianto been working with them at the Hub for several months, and Jack had just assumed that Canary Wharf weighed heavily on him—that Ianto would warm up to them on his own time, once he had dealt with the demons of the battle. Jack had never asked about it, only taken for granted that Ianto would be all right on his own.

Jack had been wrong. That isolation had been Ianto's way of hiding the terrible secret he'd kept in the basement for so long. How had he managed it? How had he come in to work each day, knowing what was down there, what he had done? Jack ran a hand across his face in frustration, because in the end, he understood it perfectly well, and that was why he couldn't hold onto his anger. He too had done difficult things and kept his own secrets, and sometimes it was hell, but it was always necessary. Ianto had done what he felt was necessary: he had tried to save the woman he loved, and he had kept it secret to protect the rest of them. And that too was something Jack could not condemn, having loved and lost more than he he count.

Yet Ianto seemed to understand the consequences, at least, and had insisted on cleaning up, which was one reason Jack was reluctantly impressed.

"It's my problem, sir," Ianto had said, at first unable to look Jack in the face. Then he raised his head, clear blue eyes meeting Jack's with a strength of resolve he had been relieved to see in Ianto after the trauma the man had just been through. "I was the one who brought her here. I'd like to take care of it before I leave."

Jack had suspended him for a month. It had seemed the only thing he could do: Ianto needed to time to deal with what had happened, and the rest of the team needed time to process it as well. They would all have to rebuild trust. But Ianto had asked to do one thing before he left: to dispose of all the cyber-conversion equipment in the basement.

"You don't have to. We'll take of it," Jack had told him, knowing it would be difficult.

"I can do it, sir," Ianto had replied, that same insistent tone to his voice Jack had heard during their confrontations over Lisa. "I need to do it."

"I can help—" Jack had started, beginning to feel those first pangs of guilt for putting Ianto through so much already. The Welshman had held up a hand and stopped him.

"Jack, it's my fault. I brought her here. I tried to save her, but I couldn't. I have to destroy what's left. I'll be back tomorrow to finish what I started." He had turned and left without another word, clothes and face still matted with dirt and blood, his shoulders stooped with grief. Jack had stared after him before going up to his office. He poured himself a drink and contemplated again the harsh words Ianto had thrown at him earlier that night, before Jack had sent him back inside to kill his girlfriend.

Monster. The worst of them all.

Staring through the window at the mess of the Hub below, Jack wondered if it were true. He was ruthless, to be sure. Brutal. Sometimes merciless. But he had seen enough evil in his life to know that sometimes you had no choice if you were going to survive. It did not mean he liked it: it was just that he, perhaps more than anyone, understood the threats they faced, and Ianto's actions had put the entire planet in jeopardy. Once more, it gave Jack chills to contemplate a future where the Cyber race spread out from the Hub, rebuilding itself with Rift energy and destroying the planet he'd come to call home.

Maybe he had been hard on Ianto. Insensitive and unfeeling. He remembered the look on the Welshman's face as he had held his weapon to Ianto's neck, forcing him to pick up the gun on the floor and execute his girlfriend. Would he have really shot Ianto, as he had threatened? The younger man hadn't been at the Hub for more than a few months, yet he had proven himself quick, clever, and efficient, and an integral part of Torchwood Three. Could he have shot one of his own team members to protect the planet? Could he have shot Ianto Jones to save the world?

The answer bothered him, and setting down his drink, Jack decided that he couldn't just sit there and think about it, turning it over and over in his mind until it drove him mad. He was a man of action, and right then the only thing he could think of doing was to start picking up the pieces of a night gone horribly wrong for them all.

So he did.

When Ianto came in the next morning—same time as usual, dressed in one of his typical sharp suits—he glanced up at Jack and gave him the barest nod, his face lined with exhaustion and sorrow. He began to clean up around the sofa and other stations. And then without warning, he stormed into Jack's office with a dark look on his face, just like Jack knew he would. Gwen quickly excused herself.

"I said I would clean it up," Ianto began, his voice short and clipped. "Sir."

"I was bored last night," Jack replied casually, leaning forward on his desk. "I just did some light housekeeping, mostly to keep the Rift Manipulator clear. You're on your own downstairs."

Ianto's face went through several emotions—anger, pain, confusion, gratitude—before settling into that blank mask Jack was so used to, but was finally beginning to understand hid much more. Straightening his shoulders, Ianto gave him a curt nod. "Thank you then, sir. I'll be on my way as soon as I've finished." He turned to leave, but Jack stood and called him back.

"Ianto, wait," he said, and the man turned with a reluctant sigh.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, and Jack bit his lip, unsure of how to respond. He'd rarely experienced this level of betrayal and discomfort with a member of his team before—at least, not as their leader, and not counting Suzie, who had shot herself before he'd had to deal with her crimes. He wasn't sure how to talk to Ianto now and found that he didn't like the feeling.

"I just…I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About Lisa."

The same straight face nodded at him, though Jack thought he saw the smallest tightening around the eyes, a twitch in the chin. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your condolences." Ianto turned once more.

"And about some of the things I said," Jack continued before he left. "Yesterday."

"You mean like threatening to execute me?" asked Ianto, turning slowly; the casual yet cutting tone to his voice almost sent a chill down Jack's back. Here was yet another surprise from their mild-mannered teaboy, this quietly cold manner; how else had Jack underestimated this man?

"Maybe," Jack replied, unable to resist flashing a grin. Ianto merely raised an eyebrow. "All right, that, yes. And a few other things, too." He came around the desk, intending to offer a hand or even a hug, but Ianto held up his hand first.

"Spare me the pleasantries, sir. I understand. Heat of the moment and all that."

"End of the world and all that," Jack replied. Ianto gave him a ureadable look.

"Perhaps. I hate to think that my girlfriend was capable of destroying an entire planet, however."

"She wasn't your—" Jack started, but Ianto cut him off again, this time looking weary instead of angry. It seemed they had both moved beyond the fury of the previous day.

"I know that, Jack," he said. It always caught him off guard to hear Ianto use his first name; it was so often 'sir' that sometimes Jack wasn't sure how to respond when Ianto dropped the formality. He certainly liked it better. "I know it wasn't really her, not at the end. You don't have to keep reminding me."

"I'm sorry," Jack murmured. He finished walking around his desk and came to stand in front of Ianto. Up close, the man appeared gutted: he was pale, with dark shadows under his eyes and the hints of bruises still about his face and neck where Lisa—no, the Cyberman—had struck him, almost killing him. Looking into that face, so stoic and defeated at the same time, Jack was struck by the unspoken sorrow beneath. He remembered reviving Ianto, kissing him to bring him back from the brink; suddenly that moment came vividly back to mind, and he almost wished he could kiss away the pain he saw written across Ianto's face before him now.

Ianto seemed aware of the intense scrutiny. He coughed and ducked his head, then raised it again, as blank as ever. "I suppose I should apologize for some of my own words, then."

Jack nodded. "Like the monster bit?"

"No, not that part," replied Ianto blandly, and Jack wasn't quite sure whether or not Ianto was joking. There was no smile, but he did finally raise an eyebrow. "But you aren't the worst of them. There've been worse."

"I'll take what I can get, I suppose." Jack laughed dryly, stepping away. "Go ahead and do what you need to do. Let me know if you need any help."

"I'll be fine, sir," Ianto replied, and once more turned to leave. And once more Jack called him back, somehow reluctant to let him go.

"Ianto, you tell me if you're not this time," he said, and he tried to sound both firm and caring; he probably sounded more like an arsehole than anything. "No more secrets."

"No more secrets," Ianto repeated, staring straight at him with dead eyes. "You're really not one to lecture about secrets, Jack."

And with those bitter words, Ianto walked out, heading to the basement to destroy the remnants of the secret life he had hidden there for so many months. Jack watched him go, knowing Ianto was right. Secrets were sometimes all he had.

Author's Notes:

This story starts the day after Cyberwoman and will probably run up to that first hint we have of something more between Jack and Ianto in They Keep Killing Suzie. As this is my first Torchwood story, I apologize for any glaring canon errors or Americanisms; kindly point me in the right direction, and I'll be happy to tweak them. I do hope you enjoy this story, no matter how many times it may have already been written by others. There is just something about this pairing that has bedazzled me, and in particular I will always wonder what the writers had in mind in bringing them together after what they went through in episode three. Thank you for reading—reviews are much appreciated!