Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood.

Brief author's note: This story is in six chapters. The chapters are in varying lengths, but I'm satisfied with how it's split up. Thank you for reading!

~.~.~

When Ianto was sixteen, he'd gone on holiday to France with his girlfriend's family. The little cottage they'd stayed in was in the middle of nowhere, which his girlfriend had assured him only added to the romantic ambiance. He'd been desperate to get a leg over at the time, so he did everything he could to play up the romance.

He'd set up a little picnic on a riverbank, where they could lounge and snog and watch the squirrels chase each other from tree to tree. A pair of beavers was fidgeting with their dam. Ianto was so completely fascinated by the beavers—he'd never seen one before—that he'd completely forgotten the wine he'd brought along so he could get his hand up Marcia's skirt.

There was a small hole in the dam that the little creatures didn't seem aware of. It was just a trickle, at first—barely even noticeable in the grand scheme of things. But the pressure built as Ianto watched, letting a more water through. The spray knocked something loose. Just a twig, then two, then a bundle. The flow of the river was insistent, pushing and pushing until the whole thing just exploded in a muddy wave.

That was how Ianto felt now. He'd only been at Torchwood Three for a fortnight, but he felt as though he was already losing twigs.

It would have been a difficult transition no matter the circumstances. He'd been an over-glorified paper pusher in London. His main job had been typing up budgets and expense reports that had been sent down from on high. Now...well, when he'd rattled off roles he could fulfil in the Hub, he hadn't meant all of them at once.

It wasn't just the job, though.

There was Lisa. Poor, suffering Lisa. He'd finally gotten her deposited in the Hub and hooked her up to a more reliable power source, proper monitors. There wasn't much he could do for her. The life support unit kept her breathing and he nicked bags of saline and nutrient solution, plus the odd bag of blood, directly from Doctor Harper now. All it left, really, was the pain.

No matter how much morphine he begged, borrowed or stole, he always ran out.

The specialist, Tanizaki, was proving to be…well, less than ideal. He was constantly insisting they come to him, completely ignoring little things like logic. There was no way all that metal and technology would get through customs, even if Lisa was well enough to travel.

Ianto would keep on it, of course, but he feared Lisa wouldn't last long enough. As it was, there were times that she…wasn't quite herself. He was more terrified during those episodes than he'd been in his entire life, even more than he was when the Captain would usher him out of the Hub at night. Most nights he didn't even try to get back out to his mam's place out in Pentyrch, where he was staying. He just kipped in the backseat of his Audi and crept down to the communal showers before anyone arrived the next morning. He was afraid to be too far away. Just in case.

Fear was a constant now. He simply wasn't built for the type of deception and stealth that he had to employ now. Hell, he hadn't even been able to properly nick that Mars Bar when he was fourteen, and the shopkeeper was half blind and senile.

He wondered, while dropping of a cup of strong coffee for Captain Harkness, if he'd have a heart attack before he was able to save Lisa.

Then he cursed himself for being melodramatic.

"Have a seat, Ianto," the Captain said after taking a sip of his coffee. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

His heart stopped beating and tried to beat out of his chest all at once. This was it, he'd been found out.

He sat anyway, struggling to keep his expression passive.

"How are you settling in with us?"

Ianto took a deep breath and hoped his anxiety wasn't too obvious. If Harkness knew something, everything was going to hell anyway. If Harkness didn't know something, odd behaviour would certainly clue him in. "Well, I think, sir."

Captain Harkness leaned forward on his desk, resting his elbows on the blotter. His voice was low and soothing. "The thing is, Ianto, you don't look well. Don't get me wrong, you're doing a great job. I don't think this place has ever run so smoothly, vanishing cat notwithstanding. But you, kiddo, look like shit."

He quirked his eyebrow, even though he knew his boss was right. He'd noticed himself just that morning, when he'd seen himself in the fluorescent lights of his mam's lav. The lighting at the Hub was much more forgiving. Or so he'd thought.

"Your reputation as a smooth-talker is certainly preserved, Captain."

Harkness laughed, a rich, hearty sound that filled the room. "I'm just trying to look out for you. This is a rough job and you're young. Lots of responsibility and lots of stress. I don't wanna see it consume you."

Ianto shifted awkwardly. "I appreciate your concern, sir, but I reckon I can manage."

The other man took a long drink of his coffee and gave him a steady look. "Do you know what a foxhole buddy is, Ianto?"

The non sequitur threw him. He shook his head.

"Way back, back when war was muddy and personal, you always had one guy with you, one guy who had your back when things got rough. One guy who trusted you to do the same."

Ianto sat in silence, both fascinated and hoping that his boss would get to the point soon. He had no idea what the Captain was trying to say and Lisa was due for another dose of morphine soon.

"You can imagine, can't you? How stressful such a life must have been. Risking life and limb every day, cold and miserable and far from home. Your buddy was just that, your buddy. He became you best friend. Half the time, your life was in his hands, so spilling your guts didn't seem like such a big deal."

He took another drink of coffee and continued. "Sometimes, the problem wasn't that the Germans were trying to kill you all day. Sometimes you were just lonely and missing the girl you left back home."

Oh. Oh!

"So, maybe your buddy would, ah, lend a hand, as it were. No shame, no romantic notions, no talking. Just another example of your buddy having your back, to keep the stress and the loneliness from filling you up."

Ianto was horrified. His boss, his male boss, was propositioning him. Lisa was practically right below them, probably in pain, and there was a man, albeit a handsome one, asking him for sex.

"Sir, I'm not—not—"

"I didn't say you are or you aren't," Harkness cut in. "I'm not trying to be your boyfriend, and this isn't in your job description. I just wanted you to know that if it's ever something you think you need…Well, you're aware of it now."

Ianto thanked him for his concern, gathered the empty coffee mugs and fled the office as fast as he could.

~.~.~

Unnecessarily long Author's Notes: The whole "hunting beavers to extinction" thing that had happened in the UK (and most of Europe—what the hell, guys? What did beavers ever do to you?!) really threw a wrench into my metaphor, but apparently, while France was equally beaver-murder-happy, a population survived on the Rhône, near Lyon. So. Yes. Ianto's trip to France was entirely fabricated to make the dam thing work. The good news is that the UK has reintroduced beavers! Yay!

The missing cat thing was from one of the books, Almost Perfect. Apparently, TW had a pet cat named Yvonne (I imagine the name was some sort of dig at Director Hartman) that went missing soon after Ianto started. The book says Jack had Ianto check through pterodactyl faeces for weeks to check. Ha-ha.

Pentyrch is a suburb of Cardiff. It's located to the west.

Foxhole buddies is an actual military term, although it's gone out of style, along with, you know, foxholes. The more…intimate applications of it were not something that everyone did, by any means, but the euphemism has developed from soldiers talking about their own experiences. If you didn't know, foxholes are a type of defensive fighting position that included digging yourself a hole and taking cover there.