WARNING: incest, bastard!Jack

A/N: I tell you guys something, it's warm in special hell. But I still fought a bit with myself before I decided to post this story here, because I guess despite the obvious warning people might be... err, upset (honestly I was surprised with myself here a little).

And just to prevent any misunderstandings. The verb "to drag" is used purely metaphorical here, it has NOTHING to do with non-con. Let's just break one taboo at the time, shall we?

Special thanks to karaokegal for the wonderful beta.


Sins of the Fathers

Jack watched in contented amusement as Gwen searched for her previously discarded clothes. He enjoyed the sight of her completely naked body with those pale, seemingly endless slender legs. She was beautifully unashamed about her nudity, as usual, and he loved her for it. Hell... he couldn't believe his luck to have found someone nearly as adventuresome as he was. He'd rarely heard a "no" ever since he first persuaded her into his bed, although there had been a few quirked eyebrows.

Sweat glistened on her oh-so-touchable, freckled skin and a rather large love bite was visible on the inside of her left thigh as she bent down to pick up her pants, providing him with a very nice, very inspiring view of her arse. She started to dress, apparently oblivious to his lecherous eyes raking over her naked body; or maybe she just didn't care.

Jack groaned, running a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling annoyed that she was leaving early tonight – just as Ianto had about two hours earlier... - when there was so much more they could do, could try. Despite his disappointment he smiled to himself at the explicit images this thought created; God... he absolutely loved her flexibility.

Fastening her bra she looked over at him, her green eyes shining sympathetically, but with a look of determination on her face that worried him. "This was the last time."

"What?" The unanticipated, distanced seriousness of her tone rapidly snapped him out of the lingering post coital haze and the accompanying fantasies.

She repeated it, patiently, as if talking to a five-year-old. "I said this was the last time. We can't do this anymore."

His own voice suddenly sounded displeasingly defensive. "Because of Rhys?" He stared at her in disbelief, bewildered by her change of mind. Sure, he knew she had been absolutely sickened by guilt, but he had talked or even more so literally screwed her out of most of it; at least that's what he had thought.

"Partly.", she admitted, fumbling with her t-shirt. "But he said he didn't care if I was fucking you as long as I still came home to him." It was back again, the tormented, haunted look of guilt in her eyes; he had really thought they were past that stage. Conscience must be nasty thing if Gwen was still suffering that heavily.

Jack frowned at her. "He really said that?"

"Uh... he was pretty pissed and angry at me for pulling another all-nighter, but yeah, he blabbed it on my voice mail... so I have it on tape." She was busy putting on her tight-fitting jeans. "But I'm sick of cheating on him anyway."

Jacks bewilderment changed to shock. Did she mean she was getting sick of him? Was she already bored? He had never been polished off like that, not when he still hadn't lost interest in his latest conquest. Given the prudish nature of this era when it came to sexual satisfaction, he had developed the tendency to stick to what he had anyway, rather than rid himself of it immediately once he got bored.

The problem with Gwen was and had been from the start that she just was too considerate of everyone. The only reason why he had been able to drag her into his bed in the first place and hold her there was her inherent masochistic streak, making her willing to suffer agonies inwardly as long as she wasn't openly hurting anyone else.

Which left only one other reason for her behaviour he could think of. "So it's Ianto?" They had had this particular conversation already once too often for his tastes, but obviously you just couldn't take the compassion out of Gwen. He had made it clear to Ianto that if he even tried to give Gwen a hard time he'd never see him again; unfortunately Gwen didn't need any outside input to blame and despise herself. "I know you feel uneasy about that Gwen, but my relationship with him is exactly that: my business, so don't worry about it."

She shook her head in disdain, scowling at him. "Sometimes you're such an arse... But no, Ianto and the fact that what I, what we do is hurting him, is also only part of the reason."

What the hell was she going on about then? He was getting frustrated now, slightly angered. Dammit! He didn't want her to walk away like that and leave him! And not just because he hated it to be walked away from, but because he really liked her, because she mattered to him and he had enjoyed all this way too much.

Getting even loosely attached was always risky, but had been inevitable where his hearty second-in-command was concerned. Apart from that, he'd miss her in bed, and not only the sex. Strange as it was, they didn't always straight away indulge in wonderfully uninhibited sex, fulfilling fantasies. From time to time they just talked, or rather he talked and Gwen listened, and he liked that, although it was almost too easy to share when she was around. "So what is your problem?"

Gwen didn't answer at first, just knelt down briefly and fiddled with something in her bag before she tossed a piece of paper in his direction. It was a photograph, a yellowed black and white photograph and he didn't even need to look at it to know he didn't like the direction this was going. Although he barely remembered the looks of the woman who was depicted standing next to him on the photograph, he was pretty sure she was Gwen's grandmother without even bothering to decipher the intricate handwriting he found on the back. This was definitively not good.

Her face seemed distant, downright stony now as she looked at him, her voice was strained. "I'm afraid you might be my grandfather." There, she said it. Shit! Jack could tell that she was already sickened by herself, caught up in self-loathing. This would definitively complicate things. He had hoped she'd never even get suspicious, much less figure it out. Considering retconning her, he wondered how long the suspicion had been nagging at her. Probably too long, as it would perfectly explain the annoying reluctance she'd been displaying towards him lately.

Jack sighed; it would probably take him ages now to talk Gwen out of her rejection, assuming Torchwood gave them that much time. Getting past the moral boundaries of learned monogamy was one thing, and had been far from easy, especially where someone as inherently loyal as Gwen was concerned, but to overcome the deeply rooted incest taboo of this era another.

"Actually... I know I'm your grandfather."

Sometimes he really hated the 21st century.