Malcolm had calmed himself enough to inspect the motionless man in the bed more closely.

He was still sweating, his skin shining in the evening light. The sunset was spectacular and as the flamed colours reflected on the wet skin Malcolm found himself strangely aroused.

It had been years since a man had interested him. Not since the island. When a touch of another was more a comfort thing than anything else.

He crouched down and reached to touch, then withdrew his hand with a sigh.

Tw

arw

The artefact had been a rare find. The auction tedious but the pleasure at finding that it matched the one he already had was worth the wasted time and pretend smiles for the evening.

The light that had blown out to fill the room had been a surprise but the screams that grew louder and louder until they echoed off the walls had shaken him. Not to mention the naked body that lay between the two figures where he had placed them on the desk.

Huh!

He became aware of the man's distress and scooped him from the desk, running through the connecting room to the bathroom. He dumped the man in the shower pan and turned the cold water on.

Steam began to fill the space and he re-checked the water cascading down. Yep. Cold. The water was hitting the man and it seemed to boil and bubble over him before dissipating as steam. Malcolm was not a man who was easily spooked but this voodoo was a dark magic that filled the room, seeping into his very pores.

Slowly the man seemed to cool until he was shaking under the assault of the water. Malcolm realised he was wet too as he crouched in the stall, holding the man down as he thrashed and yelled inarticulately.

Finally he stop struggling and looked around wile eyed. His eyes focused on Malcolm and he saw recognition and something unexpected. Relief.

"Cariad?" a breath.

"I'm sorry. I don't speak your language," Malcolm said quietly, "Do you speak English?"

The man pushed back and stared at him some more.

"You're not Jack. Who are you … oh god … where am I?" the man panted, retreating back against the wall.

"Jack? No sorry. My name is Malcolm. Malcolm Merlyn and you're in my home. My shower to be exact!" Malcolm felt a smile start to form at the man's indignant glare.

"Hey, I didn't do anything wrong here," for a change he defended as the man began to look for the exit.

"Did you drug me? Is this some sort of abduction? When Jack finds you … he... Wait … where am I?" he turned to Malcolm and asked again, "Where is this?"

"My penthouse, Starling City," Malcolm studied the man's face and watched it morph into a butler like stare.

Whatever was happening behind those steely grey-blue eyes, it seemed that the young man had reached a decision and he fixed Malcolm with that polite stare.

"I'm sorry, Sir" he monotone, "but I'm a little lost here. You look just like my ex but he would have been undressed as well, probably before me!"

Malcolm laughed and offered his hand.

"Let's try this again, Hi. I'm Malcolm Merlyn." He was relieved when the young man accepted the offer and allowed him to lift him to his feet.

Trusting. Also knew he could lift him as he showed no surprise. Whoever Jack had been, he had been one lucky fella.

"Jones. Ianto Jones," the man smiled and his face transformed.

Wow!

Malcolm wasn't aware he had spoken aloud until Ianto's eyes sparkled.

"Yes Sir. Wow indeed" he grinned.

Ianto was still a little shaky so Malcolm helped him through to the bedroom and placed him gently on the bed.

"Oh god, I'm getting it all wet," Ianto cried, struggling.

Malcolm shushed him and used the top comforter to dry him before throwing it to the floor and revealing the Egyptian cotton sheets. Now Ianto was humming softly as he was manoeuvred beneath the covers and as he drifted off Malcolm found that he was still clutching his hand.

So he sat. Watching this cuckoo who had flown so dramatically into his nest in the middle of the night and stolen his heart so quickly.

Wow indeed. Hmmmm.