Jack knew he'd screwed up a dozen times over.

He knew it would be difficult, returning to a team that had continued without him for months and come out stronger for it. He knew it would be challenging, working side by side with them again, regaining their trust and earning their forgiveness. But he hadn't counted on it being sodisheartening. He felt useless, alone, left out, and sometimes found himself doubting the decision to return.

Which was ridiculous, because he also recognized that the others were trying their best, accepting his apologies and beginning to build a new normal as a team. Tosh had reached out, a tentative gesture of understanding over lunch together. Owen had rolled his eyes, threatening Jack with his balls if he ran off on them again, and gone right back to work. Ianto had forgiven him the first night back, and was now trying hard to support Jack's return while still maintaining the distance he clearly needed to work through everything that had happened between them.

Gwen was still angry, though. Still challenging him, still trying to ambush him with questions, particularly when he was least expecting it and feeling the most vulnerable. Her unwillingness to relinquish full command and back off from emotional manipulation bothered him, whereas he'd once seen her persistence as a strength. Then again, a lot of his thoughts about Gwen had changed, both during his time away and upon his return.

He'd been surprised to find her wearing an engagement ring when he'd come back, and if he was honest, a little disappointed as well. In the back of his mind, Gwen had always been his, almost as much as Ianto. He'd brought her into Torchwood and tried hard to groom and protect her (and hadn't he failed at that spectacularly, considering she'd led the revolt against him,) but now she was officially someone else's. He couldn't protect her anymore, certainly not that part of her life. And so he felt a sense of loss, even though he was frustrated by her constant pushing and prodding and need to know.

He wouldn't have shared anything with her anyway. Jack knew himself well enough to understand that he'd hired and kept Gwen because she put him on a pedestal, and he liked standing up there posing for her. It had taken months while hanging in chains in the engine room of the Valiant to accept that, and he wasn't proud of it, but it was a part of who he was: a man looking for nothing more than love and acceptance. He wanted to believe that deep down he was a good person, maybe even a hero; that he wasn't the awful man he'd been once, and that he wasn't a monster or a freak of nature (unfortunately the Master had brought that complex roaring to life.) But he didn't believe it, so he believed in others. Gwen saw what she wanted to see, the immortal champion, either missing the shadows completely or blissfully ignoring them, and Jack liked that. He needed that validation.

Only now she was questioning him even more, pushing hard, and he knew if he showed her even a fraction of what he really was, he'd break a part of her, the part that still put him on that pedestal even if it was a little bit shorter now. If she knew the things he had seen and done over the last year let alone his long life, she'd never be able to look at him the same again. She'd never be able to look at the world the same again, and he couldn't do that to her. Or to himself. Maybe it made him a coward, but he'd spent a year in chains after the Doctor had declared him impossible and wrong. If he wanted at least one person to believe in him, he'd earned the right.

But then there was Ianto. Ianto, who knew what had happened, who had seen it first hand when the guard from the Valiant had showed up and slammed his head into the table, a gun to his neck. Ianto, who saw Jack's darkness, who had always seen it and accepted it and even experienced it, yet still believed in him, even now. At least, Ianto believed in him as a man, as a leader, and even as a friend, but not as a lover and certainly not as anything more, and that hurt, because that was what Jack wanted now.

Jack didn't know what to do. Ianto's fear and reticence was completely understandable, and though Jack hated it, he understood and couldn't begrudge it. In fact, while a small part of him had been hoping to fall back into bed with Ianto, another part would have seriously questioned such a relationship. It wasn't what he wanted, casual sex on lonely nights, but he respected Ianto too much to push for more when the Welshman wasn't ready. Jack just didn't think it would be so hard to be shut out, to wait.

But he knew it was worth it.

It had been three weeks since he'd returned, a little over a month since the rest of the world had witnessed the death of both the President of the United States and the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. Washington and London seemed to be on the long road to recovery, and after the debacle that was John Hart and the long night spent at St. David's avoiding themselves, Torchwood had slowly settled into a new team dynamic as well. Jack had realized that asserting his leadership in his usual bullheaded way wouldn't work, and he'd tried to ease back into it, toning down his flippant attitude and tendency to be arrogant or dismissive. Until Ianto had called him on it and suggested that the others might be more apt to regain their trust in him if he didn't try so hard. Which he'd also said about their date at the restaurant; Jack wondered if he'd ever get things right sometimes.

So he'd gradually let himself be himself again, though truth be told it had been a challenge. He didn't always feel like it. He knew he was brooding a lot, but he couldn't help it. His year with the Doctor had been long and hard, and if Ianto needed time to come to terms with something he hadn't actually experienced, Jack needed it even more. He wanted to put it all behind him, but it was hard, and he struggled every day with memories no one else shared. He couldn't sleep at night, and found himself nodding off throughout the day, only to wake suddenly from flashbacks and nightmares, his hands shaking. He often caught Ianto watching him both fondly and with concern; he wondered if the others even noticed.

The Rift had kept them busy after Hart's disappearance, and they'd had an increased number of Rift gifts, as Ianto called them, and far more Weevils than usual for several days. It had been an auspicious return in yet another way, and the team had been run down by the long days and nights. But they'd established a rota where two team members had the night off and two members stayed on, with a similar plan for the weekends, and they had insisted on returning to it after things slowed down. Jack had found it hard to adjust to, but acknowledged that they needed time for other things in their lives besides work. They'd reclaimed it while he'd been gone, and he couldn't take that away.

Jack wished he and Ianto could have a night off together, but he wasn't sure how to work himself into the rota, and he wasn't sure if Ianto would even want to see him. He'd said he wasn't dating anyone, but Jack had gossiped with Gwen and Owen enough to know Ianto had dated while Jack had been gone. Nothing serious, but it was possible the Welshman had plans for his nights, plans that didn't include Jack. Jack didn't want to push him; Ianto had said he needed time and space, and Jack would give it to him. In the meantime, he revisited his favorite rooftops, breathing the cool night air and gazing at the stars, remembering everything he'd lost and regained and wishing it had never happened.

More than anything, he missed Ianto, and not just the sex. He missed the easy companionship and working relationship they'd shared before Jack had been trapped in 1941 and the Rift had splintered. Their interactions at the Hub were mostly comfortable, giving Jack hope, but there were still moments when they were alone and didn't know what to say, or when someone else said something awkward, that things felt suddenly uncomfortable. Ianto grew silent, fleeing to the archives or the coffee machine while Jack sulked in his office, wishing everything could go back to the way it had been, to their strange messed-up version of normal.

Even communication with UNIT and Whitehall had changed, and bureaucracies tended to remain unchanged the galaxy over. As much as Jack often dreaded talking with the various bureaucratic idiots at UNIT headquarters, he got along well enough with most of them. Ianto had informed him that the Queen as well as UNIT had eventually been made aware of Jack's absence, but that the team had assured them both that Jack was undercover on a case and everything was under control. Yet since his return, he'd spoken with Whitehall only once, and UNIT had been unusually quiet. Jack had been glad at first, but after running into Detective Swanson at a crime scene that morning, he was now curious. And suspicious.

He'd had no emails, no messages, nothing at all about Lt. James McMahan, the man who had attacked him and Ianto at the hotel. After one more look to be sure he hadn't missed anything, he decided he'd confront the person most likely responsible. Standing with a sigh, he went to the door. "Ianto?" he called. "Can I talk to you?"

Ianto glanced up in surprise from his computer, where he was researching both the suspects and victims in their latest case. Jack had noticed that Ianto spent more time in the main part of the Hub than he had before. He was fairly certain Ianto was keeping an eye on him, and wasn't sure whether to be annoyed, offended, or glad. Ianto hit a few keys, then joined him in the office.

"Yes, sir?" he asked, standing before Jack's desk. Outwardly, he looked perfectly composed, but Jack could see from the stiff set of his body that Ianto was nervous. Whether it was because of Jack or because of work was hard to tell, but Jack hated it. It had been weeks; he wanted the easy camaraderie back.

"Relax," Jack smiled, setting aside his sadness, that he couldn't reach out to reassure the other man. God, he missed touching Ianto—a brush of fingers, a quick embrace, a kiss. He should have been used to it, it had been so long for him, and he should have been accepting the possibility that maybe there would be nothing more between them. Instead he felt more and more heartsick and lonely every day.

"Sorry," Ianto murmured, rolling his shoulders back. He dropped the sir, which was a small victory, at least. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, if you really want to know the answer to that," Jack started, and was relieved when Ianto smiled, thrilled when the other man rolled his eyes. "Sit down for a minute, I wanted to you talk about something." When Ianto hesitated, Jack tried not to sigh but failed. "About Torchwood."

Ianto sat down and waited for Jack to begin. Now that he was there, Jack wasn't sure how to bring it up. He hated having the desk between them, as he suspected personal issues were at play here as well as professional, so he stood and came around the desk to be closer, fiddled with a few things to burn off his own nervous energy, then turned to Ianto, arms crossed over his chest. He decided to begin with something else.

"I went to Flat Holm last night," he started. "There was a negative spike by the Barrage, one survivor."

Ianto frowned. "You could have called. I would've been happy to help."

"I know," Jack said with a smile. "But you did enough while I was gone."

Ianto studied him carefully. "I'm only glad you told me before you left, sir."

Jack nodded and stared at his boots. It was a subtle reprimand if there ever was one, the only one regarding Flat Holm since he'd returned. Ianto had somehow managed to run it on his own while Jack was gone, still keeping it secret from the others even though Jack was fairly sure Ianto had been pissed off about it and could have used the help. But it was Ianto's deep sense of loyalty that had kept the secret, and Jack suspected something similar was at play now.

"I saw Detective Swanson at the crime scene earlier," he said. Ianto nodded.

"I'm sure she was glad to see you back in the field, sir," he replied. Though his face was straight, Jack heard the grin in the other man's voice, saw the teasing smile in his eyes.

"Oh, she was thrilled. Said something about wanting to see me naked. I think she missed me more than everyone else combined. But it reminded me of our last run-in with the good detective."

He saw the smallest twitch in Ianto's eyes, betraying his thoughts. "Yes, sir. At the hotel right after your return."

Jack nodded. "And you spoke with her the next day?"

"Yes, sir," said Ianto. "I went to the station personally and closed the case."

"The UNIT case," Jack said. Again, only Jack would have noticed the slight change in Ianto's body language, but it was there. He closed up, however slightly, and Jack hated what he was about to hit him with.

"Yes, sir," he replied. "Was there a problem?"

"I don't think so," said Jack. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to go back to that night, think about that man. He was perfectly fine forgetting all about it, but he was also the leader of Torchwood Three, as well as the one who had been targeted, and he needed to know what had happened to James McMahan and how it had been handled.

"I haven't heard from UNIT about their man," Jack said. "Did Swanson send them the body?"

"Yes, sir," said Ianto, and now he appeared confused. Jack couldn't help but move closer, wanting to comfort but knowing he couldn't. "As I said at the time, the situation was contained."

"And resolved?" asked Jack.

"Yes, sir," said Ianto. This time there was some steel in his voice, responding to the unasked question in Jack's. Jack sighed.

"Ianto, I haven't heard from UNIT at all. Not once since I returned, not a single phone call, email, or text message."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "I should think you'd be glad," he offered. "As you have often referred to them as a bunch of—"

"Yes, yes," Jack waved him to stop. "And they are. But why haven't they contacted me about the attack at the hotel? I'd like to know what the hell happened to that man, how he found me so fast, why he came after me."

Ianto stood. "As I said, the situation was contained. I've spoken with them myself and didn't feel the need to disturb you with the details."

"Disturb me?" Jack asked, his voice incredulous even though this was exactly what he had suspected. "It's my job, Ianto. I'm supposed to talk to them."

"With all due respect," Ianto replied, "you were in no shape to speak with them that night or the next day, and I had no wish to burden you further. I handled it."

"You handled it?"

"Yes, sir. Like Flat Holm." They stared at each other, one frustrated, one defiant.

"I can handle myself, you know," Jack said softly, trying to sound strong but only sounding hurt. Ianto took a deep breath before he replied.

"I know that, Jack," he said. Jack almost sagged with relief when Ianto used his first name. "I also know what happened to you, what that man did to you. There was no reason to put you through that again."

Jack's mouth opened once or twice, and seeing his dumbfounded reaction, Ianto ran a nervous hand through his hair and started pacing, deliberately putting distance between them.

"I'm sorry if I overstepped my bounds, but I've been liaising with them since you left. It made sense to continue in that role given the circumstances of this particular interaction."

"The circumstances of this particular interaction?" Jack asked.

"The situation on the Valiant, sir," Ianto replied, turning toward him and reverting to formality once again. "And Lt. McMahan's role in it."

Jack shook his head. "What did you say, what did you do? Tell me everything so I'm at least aware of what's going on behind my back."

Ianto bristled at that. "I wasn't going behind your back," he replied stiffly. "I'd be happy to type up a transcript of my conversations with General Brightman as well as my meeting with Colonel Mace."

"You met with Mace?" Jack exclaimed. "When the hell did you do that?"

"My day off last weekend," Ianto shrugged. "I felt discretion was needed."

"And Mace agreed?"

"He did. Colonel Mace and I happen to get along fairly well," Ianto replied.

Jack chewed on a thumb. "How did you explain knowing about the Valiant?"

"I told them the truth," Ianto replied. "That after we were attacked, you explained that a paradox year had occurred on board the Valiant that only those on board remember. I did not, however, share any details of my knowledge."

Jack nodded. He still wasn't sure if he should be angry or glad that Ianto had shielded him from going through anything to do with that year again. He'd think about that later. Right now he needed more facts. "So what did he say about McMahan? What's his story?"

Ianto toed the ground, glancing anywhere but Jack as he apparently thought about his answer. Jack hoped he wasn't hiding anything and raised an eyebrow in question as he waited. Ianto shook his head. "I'm not holding back," he said, though Jack still had the impression he was. "Just trying to figure out where to start as it's a bit…confusing, to be honest. Most of the men on board the Valiant don't remember what happened."

Jack frowned. "No, no way. They don't have that capability, and the Doctor would never allow it!"

"He wasn't there holding their hand, was he?" asked Ianto. "Colonel Mace said the Doctor was no help after the reset, he simply disappeared. UNIT took things into their own hands. Apparently they have their own way of erasing unwanted memories, and every man was wiped within days of returning, all except for the captain." He paused. "And you."

"Why?" asked Jack.

"Why wipe their memories, or why leave the captain to remember?" asked Ianto.

"Both, I suppose," said Jack.

"Colonel Mace said most of the men on the Valiant had no choice in their service there. Apparently Harold Saxon executed anyone who refused to follow orders. The official explanation is that UNIT brass decided there was no reason for them to live with the guilt of their actions, or the memories of what happened that year. Colonel Mace suggested that it was deemed a massive security risk to leave them with such knowledge."

"But the captain has to live with it?" asked Jack. "That seems harsh."

"Apparently he was agreeable," said Ianto. "He understood the necessity of at least one person retaining the memory of what happened. He is, unfortunately, currently on medical leave for six months due to mental trauma, and the colonel deems it unlikely he'll return to active duty."

Jack swore and started pacing as well. This was why he considered UNIT a bunch of cock-sucking arseholes. They had no compassion, preferring to get the job done regardless of the losses. Anything for Queen and Country, and that had been Yvonne Hartmann's downfall.

He wondered for a moment why he had not been approached about having his memories erased, but suspected that his relationship with the Doctor protected him. It was ironic in that it was his relationship with the Doctor that had resulted in the horrific year in the first place. Jack would have almost preferred to forget, like the others. He hoped Martha and her family were all right.

"What happened to McMahan?" Jack finally asked.

Ianto straightened himself and gazed over Jack's right shoulder, as if he were a soldier reporting to his captain. "The lieutenant apparently failed the memory wipe and regained his memories. Colonel Mace said that their medical expert suspects the sudden influx of traumatic memories resulted in an almost instant psychosis. He knew you were stationed at Torchwood Three in Cardiff and blamed you for what happened on board the Valiant."

Jack suppressed the flicker of anger, that all the men and women on board the ship had had a choice, even though he knew that for some men death wasn't truly a choice at all. "How did he know we were at that hotel, though?" Jack asked. "Why didn't he go to the Hub?"

"Dumb luck, sir," said Ianto. "I had Tosh search through the CCTV footage of that night. He ran into the SUV near the car park and followed us to the hotel. He didn't need to go to the Hub."

"Why did he wait so long then?" asked Jack. "He could have attacked at any time, why did he wait until we were at the restaurant hours later?"

"Hotel security shows him in the lobby, watching us not long after we arrived. When he attempted to follow you to the lift, he was cut off by a large group of people leaving the hotel. He waited until we reappeared. Again—dumb luck."

Jack shook his head. "You managed to figure all that out on your own?" he asked.

"With Tosh's help, of course," Ianto replied.

"Of course," Jack murmured. "What did you tell her?"

"That UNIT was not forthcoming with information. So we tracked it down ourselves, from the lieutenant's records to the CCTV footage. If you'd like to review it, I have the files waiting to be archived downstairs.

Jack went to sit behind his desk. Ianto remained standing at attention before him. "No, I'm good. It sounds like you handled it."

"I believe that's what I said when you first asked about it," Ianto pointed out, clearly holding back a small smile.

"I know," Jack sighed. "And I'm not sure whether to thank you for your initiative or reprimand you for keeping it from me."

Ianto stiffened. "I was only trying to help, sir. If that's all?" He turned toward the door without being dismissed.

"Ianto, stop!" Jack exclaimed, jumping up and coming around to him again, grabbing his arm to stop him. They stared at one another for a long moment, eyes constantly flicking toward lips as Jack felt the muscles of Ianto's arm twitch beneath his fingers, burning heat into his body. He wanted so badly to kiss Ianto, make it all better. And Ianto must have felt the same longing, for his lips parted and Jack leaned forward and—

"Jack!" Tosh appeared in the doorway. "Oh, sorry."

Ianto jumped about five feet backward, instantly smoothing his jacket and tie. "Nothing to apologize for, Tosh," he said, his voice remarkably calm. Jack stared at him, amazed at Ianto's powers of recovery. "I was telling Jack what we found out about James McMahan."

"Okay," she said, gazing back and forth between them, obviously sensing the tension in the room. She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Gwen called from the hospital. The second suspect just died."

Jack continued to stare at Ianto, almost overcome by longing. With the tiniest of nods, it was as if Ianto was acknowledging both of their feelings and releasing him to be leader once more. Jack turned to Tosh. "Right. Bring her in."

"Who, Gwen?" asked Tosh, clearly confused.

"The wife," said Jack, grinning. "We need to have a little chat."

"I'll call Gwen and let her know," said Tosh, nodding as she turned and left.

"Shall I get the interrogation room ready?" asked Ianto.

"Looks like we'll be entertaining a guest, so please do," said Jack. Ianto brushed by him on the way out, and Jack reached for his hand, holding tight. "And thank you, for everything."

"You're welcome, sir." At the exasperated look from Jack, Ianto smiled. "Jack. I was only trying to help."

"I know," said Jack. "But you don't need to protect me."

Ianto cocked his head. "I thought that was my job? General support and all that?"

"You do too much," Jack murmured. He was once more entranced by Ianto's lips. The Welshman coughed to get his attention.

"I'll give myself a bonus. Now if you don't mind, I need to keep doing that job and get ready for our guest."

"Right." Jack dropped Ianto's hand and watched him leave. He thought about everything Ianto had told him and decided it was all right. Hell, Ianto probably deserved a commendation for taking over with UNIT. He was concerned about their treatment of the men and women on board the Valiant and made a note to speak with Colonel Mace himself about it. He also decided he needed to contact Martha and make sure that she and her family were all right as well.

Gazing into the Hub, he couldn't help but watch Ianto as he moved about, wishing he had more time to spend with the Welshman at that moment, as he felt some of their connection returning with that near kiss, but there was work to do. A murder to solve, a suspect to question. But maybe when it was over, he could talk Ianto into at least having a drink with him, if not dinner and a movie.


Author's Note:

This is a three-part follow-up to my story Retreat, set around the episode Sleeper. It continues both Jack and Ianto's story as well as some other ideas and will be continued in the next story, tentatively titled Ghosts of the Past. Thank you for reading!

Note on the timeline: I set this three weeks after KKBB and Jack's return to the team. You might have noticed that it is also almost just over a month since the President and Prime Minister were killed. The Torchwood team were out of the country when that happened, as there is a canon report from Owen stating that as they were returning from their wild goose chase in the Himalayas, they learned that Harold Saxon had won the election and then had been shot with the President. He says something about a week being a long time in politics. If Saxon died while they were in the Himalayas, time reset while they were there as well. In my mind, it took a few days for the team to get back and get settled and get on that Blowfish in KKBB. Who knows what Jack, Martha, and the Doctor were up to. Fanon would have them recovering in the Tardis. All I know is that they didn't return immediately. Probably something timey-whimey, but it's mostly to give them team time to get home and get settled. And for UNIT to do dastardly things. And I could be way off, who knows. I'm not fussed about it, but I did think about it! PM me if you'd like a link to Owen's report!