Jack didn't sleep much.

Since his eternal dance with the time vortex began, he'd discovered that his body just didn't require sleep the way a normal human should. He could still benefit from physical rest, and he indulged in the odd recreational nap, but lying in bed for a third of each day cycle seemed a colossal waste of time to a man tasked with running a top-secret organization.

Ianto, on the other hand, needed at least six hours of sleep to function at full capacity—though life in Torchwood had taught him to survive on four and make up the difference in coffee.

This disparity was an unacknowledged point of unbalance in their not-quite-relationship. Whenever they lay tangled together, basking in a haze of liberating post-coital neurochemicals (either of them would have willingly submitted to torture before calling it cuddling), there would inevitably come a point when Ianto would be drifting cozily off to sleep, and Jack would be restless and ready to leave.

Jack had never found a graceful way to handle his departure. Sometimes, he would excuse himself to the bathroom, and then not return to bed. Other times, he would check his phone, plead some emergency at the Hub, and offer to return after it was dealt with—though he never did. Occasionally, when he was feeling particularly lazy or domestic, he would scavenge whatever paperback Ianto had left within reach of the bed and sit up reading for a while, then creep sheepishly away before morning.

Ianto had never commented on his abandonment—did he even want Jack to stay the night? Were they in the kind of relationship where they spent the night together? Could their casual arrangement even be called a relationship?—but then, Jack knew Ianto rarely spoke about the things that actually mattered to him, preferring to keep the world skewered safely at the tip of an acerbic wit. Jack found himself growing uncharacteristically nervous about each rendezvous, uncertain how best to extricate himself without offending his partner.

One night he lay curled loosely around Ianto, who was only a few deep breaths away from sleep. Jack had just begun the awkward tensing of muscles and shifting of weight that would facilitate slipping his arms free, when Ianto's body spasmed suddenly, his hands clutching at the bedclothes as he came fully awake.

Jack rubbed Ianto's shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

Ianto nodded, his body coiling tighter beneath the blanket. "Yeah. Just… that thing where you feel like you're falling." He screwed up his face, trying to remember the proper term. "Hypnic jerk."

"I once called a guy that in a bar, and he punched me," Jack returned. Ianto gave him a flash of an eyeroll before nestling deeper into the pillow, already half asleep again. Jack loosened his arm. He might as well take advantage of Ianto's movement to get out of bed…

Ianto's fingers closed on Jack's wrist, locking it in place around his shoulders. "Stay," Ianto breathed.

Jack froze, uncertain. "All night?"

Ianto's head wobbled sleepily on the pillow. "Just until I fall asleep."

Jack relaxed his arm, but didn't settle back down on the bed. "I don't want to wake you when I go."

"You won't. Once I'm sleeping, I'll be fine." Ianto half-turned his head and opened one eye. "Just… stay with me until I'm asleep. Then you can go do whatever it is you do at night."

"You sure?"

"I don't want to fall asleep alone."

Jack sensed that there was more hidden behind those words, but he knew he wasn't likely to get a direct answer out of Ianto. He eased down beside him and tucked himself around the warm body. Within minutes, Ianto was peacefully asleep, and Jack was free to depart with impunity.

Jack looked down at Ianto's young face, more relaxed in slumber than he ever had seen it awake, and wondered if there were a paperback within reach.

Ianto hadn't appeared in his office lately to see if he wanted more coffee, so Jack was carrying his own mug to the kitchenette and wondering what had become of his General Support Officer when he spotted the object of his thoughts slumped on the sofa. Jack detoured and perched on the narrow arm of the couch beside him, taking in his rumpled shirtsleeves and shadowed eyes. "You okay?"

Ianto blinked over at him, and his eyes fell on Jack's empty mug. "Oh! Sorry, I can get you some more…" He started to push himself to his feet, but Jack stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, don't get up. I can get it." Jack bent to set the mug on the low coffee table, then settled back to look at Ianto again. "You didn't answer me. How are you holding up?"

Ianto scrubbed his hands over his face. "It's been a long week. I haven't gotten much sleep. Hasn't helped, being down a man." He shook his head. "Woman. Whatever."

"Well, Gwen gets back from her honeymoon in two days, so hopefully the schedule will go back to normal then. We'll make her take the late-night shifts next week, so all of you can get some rest."

Ianto snorted. "Rhys will love that. Two weeks into the marriage, and his new wife working the overnights."

"He knew exactly what he was marrying into. Besides, it's not like they haven't already been living together for however many years." Jack started to reach for his coffee, then remembered the mug was empty.

"Are you sure you don't want me to make you some fresh?" Ianto tipped his head back against the sofa to look up at Jack, and the light fell fully on his face, highlighting the circles beneath his eyes and the telltale stubble on his cheek. Jack wondered if Ianto had gone to bed at all the previous night.

"I'm not sure you're awake enough to use the machine. I don't want you to burn yourself."

"You know I can make coffee in my sleep." The effect of his scoff was ruined somewhat by the yawn that caught him halfway through the words.

"A skill I could apparently witness firsthand, if I asked you to do it now." Jack's tone softened as he added, "Why don't you lie down for a bit? There's nothing urgent that requires your attention before the others get back." He glanced at his watch. "Toshiko called ten minutes ago and said they were just getting into Swansea. By the time Owen finishes at the hospital and they drive back, you could get at least two hours' sleep."

Ianto arched an eyebrow. "Is my boss telling me to sleep on the clock?"

"Your boss is telling you to sleep on the sofa. And since you're always on the clock in Torchwood, he's willing to overlook the fact that you're doing it during business hours." Jack patted the cushion. "Here, lie down."

Ianto unfolded his six-foot frame and stretched out on the sofa with another deep yawn. He tipped his head to blink up at Jack through heavy-lidded eyes. "Stay?" he murmured, the until I fall asleep implicit in the request. They had reached that compromise long ago, and like so many strange elements of their unconventional relationship, it worked for them.

Jack pulled the black leather ottoman nearer the sofa and sat, gently stroking Ianto's hair as the younger man relaxed into the cushions. He remained seated there long after Ianto's breathing had become slow and rhythmic, considering his lover with a thoughtful frown.

After the loss of Owen, keeping members of the team in one piece became even more difficult. Gwen had been instructed in first aid as part of her police training, and Ianto had learned CPR and some emergency medical procedures at Torchwood One, but for anything beyond minor injuries they were suddenly dependent on the local A&E. This was not only complicated for logistical reasons, but posed a threat to the secrecy of Torchwood's operations—Jack couldn't Retcon the emergency medical staff every time they had an encounter with something alien and dangerous. Too many civilian lives depended on the doctors and nurses to risk compromising them.

Consequently, Gwen became known to the emergency staff as "that woman who falls down stairs a lot," thanks to the number of unexplained contusions and two minor concussions incurred in the course of her duties. And Ianto, to his disgust, became a farmer frequently at the mercy of his livestock. Once Jack's poorly-contrived cover story had stuck, he couldn't escape it.

"You say a goat did this?" The nurse frowned over the deep parallel gashes that crossed Ianto's bare torso—ugly souvenirs of a Weevil chase gone wrong.

Jack shrugged. "Those little horns are sharp, and they know how to use them. You don't mess with goats."

"You don't usually wear a three-piece suit to tend them, either." The nurse shook her head knowingly and bent over Ianto's prone body again. "From the looks of things, this isn't the first 'goat attack' he's had. When your friend recovers, you might talk him into switching to something less dangerous. Sheep, maybe."

"Sheep," Ianto muttered weakly. "How very Welsh."

"Hey, you're awake!" Jack crossed to the side of the bed and touched his arm.

"Been awake. Hurts like hell. Can I have something for the pain?"

"Not just yet," said the nurse. "We're going to have to put you under for surgery. Don't worry, the anesthesiologist will be here soon, and you won't feel anything after that."

Ianto's eyes flared wide, and he looked to Jack in panic. "Put me under?"

Jack slipped his hand up to Ianto's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "It's too extensive for a local anesthetic. One of the cl—" he caught himself, "—goat horns penetrated the abdominal wall. No serious internal damage, but there's some patching up to do." He grimaced. "Trust me, you'd rather not be awake for that."

Ianto's eyes searched his face. "I'll take your word for that," he murmured. "I just… I don't like going unconscious."

"I know," Jack said quietly. "You like to be in control of yourself. But it'll be okay."

"It feels like falling, and I…" Ianto swallowed and reached for Jack's hand. "Will you stay with me?"

The nurse, who had been dutifully ignoring their private conversation, turned toward them. "He can't be in the room when we're doing surgery, love."

"No, not then. Just for the anesthesia. I'd feel better if he were here."

The nurse frowned. "I don't think—"

"Don't worry." Jack squeezed his hand. "I'll make sure they let me stay. I'll pull rank if I have to."

Ianto nodded gratefully. "Just until I'm asleep."

Jack smiled. "Always."

"You don't like heights, do you?"

Ianto glanced up, met Jack's eyes in the mirror, and his face shuttered instantly. "I'm not overly fond of them, no. Unlike some people who stand on the edge of rooftops recreationally," he added, a distinct edge to his voice.

Jack allowed himself a swell of triumph; Ianto's favorite defense, he had learned, was a strong offense. The fact that he was snipping at Jack meant that Jack had struck far closer to the truth than Ianto wanted to admit. "Why not?" He reached around Ianto for the toothpaste to break the sudden tension.

Ianto shrugged. "Self-preservation instinct. Do I need a reason?"

"I just thought there might be one." Jack watched him closely. Ianto had opened up to him a lot over the past few months, but he knew he was one wrong question away from being shut out—perhaps literally, as they were at Ianto's for the night, and Jack's key was in the center drawer of his desk back at the Hub. "Because you're not really acrophobic. You don't mind being on stairs, or high floors of buildings, or even glass elevators."

"Yes, well." Ianto shrugged again, too casual. "It's hard to fall out of an enclosed space, isn't it? No reason to be scared of those."

"So it's just falling you're afraid of?" Jack stuck the toothbrush between his molars and glanced back at the mirror.

Ianto met his eyes with a hard, knowing look, and for a moment Jack feared he'd pushed too far. Then with an abrupt sigh, Ianto turned away. "I had a bad fall once when I was a kid. Fell off the swings, broke my leg." He shrugged emphatically and applied toothpaste to his own brush with savage force. "There. Now you know everything."

Jack drew back from his vehemence; there was obviously far more to the story, and even Ianto had to know how poorly he was concealing it. "I don't need to know everything," he said gently. "Only what you want to tell me."

Ianto finished his ablutions and left the bathroom in frigid silence, and Jack sighed. He'd hoped to learn something about Ianto to bring them closer, but his questioning had done the opposite. He resigned himself to the likelihood of a lonely night and followed Ianto into the bedroom.

Ianto was seated on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped around himself, conflict plain in every line of his body.

"Do you want me to go?" Jack had always favored the direct approach; a single surgical cut was ultimately less painful than a dozen mincing slices, and evidently he was less skilled at gentle questioning than he'd thought.

Ianto glanced up, and Jack realized the anger in his posture wasn't directed at him. Ianto turned away in embarrassment—and suddenly Jack understood. He stepped closer and sank down beside Ianto on the bed. "Or do you want me to stay until you fall asleep?" he added softly.

Ianto's eyes widened in mortification, and he ducked his head to hide the flush that suffused his cheeks. He was silent for a long time, but Jack waited. "It's just that moment," Ianto whispered at last. "I know what's happening, I know what causes it, but every time I feel like I start to fall, I just…"

Jack pulled him against his shoulder. "It's okay," he murmured. "I'll stay. I'll always stay for you, as long as you need me."

That night, Jack held him close. When the hypnic jerk came and Ianto scrabbled for equilibrium, Jack's arms were an anchor to quell his panic.

When Ianto fell, Jack dove to catch him.

By the time they realized, it had already been too late. Now Ianto's body sagged heavy in Jack's arms, his skin stark and sallow in the harsh strobe of the emergency lights. Somewhere below them, the rest of Thames House was in a state of panic. The distant echo of alarm bells and raised voices reached Jack's ears, but he was conscious of no sound save the faint rattle of breath in Ianto's throat. He pulled Ianto's motionless form closer, already feeling the weakness in his own limbs as the virus took effect.

There was no doubt that Ianto believed this was the end. He had made his final declaration, extracted a promise from Jack to remember him always, and now he struggled to stay conscious through the precious last seconds before eternal sleep claimed him. The young man roused himself one last time, his eyelids flickering almost imperceptibly.

"Stay…" he rasped. The word was scarcely even a breath, but Jack understood, and tightened his arms again.

But this wasn't the end. It couldn't be the end, not yet, not for them. He had saved Ianto before; he could do it again. Jack bent forward to reassure Ianto with a kiss as the darkness closed in around him. He would stay, not only until Ianto fell asleep, but until they both woke up. Together.

Jack awoke alone.

The dream had been so vivid, so real in every sense, that for a moment his body still tingled with the warmth of another's touch. Now the cold air crept in to chill his skin, and the only breath he could draw was a ragged sob. There was no one to witness his anguish, so he surrendered to it.

He had been alone for a long time. Long ago he'd tried to find someone new, to comfort himself with other warmth and different touches, but no one could quite fill the hole left where his heart had been brutally torn away. No pleasure or distraction could ever quite assuage the guilt.

He should have been used to this by now—how many losses had he survived, in his centuries of life? How many broken hearts?—but something about this one was different. Somehow the time and distance only made this loss more keen, instead of dulling it. Day after day, year after year, the promise he'd made tore at his soul, an ever-sharpening blade that gained a serration for each year he endured. He would gladly have sacrificed his honor, broken the promise to be rid of the pain, had the alternative not been even worse.

Remembering was eternal torment, but forgetting was unthinkable.

The dream was beginning to fade. "Stay," he begged, curling his arms about himself, reaching again for the memory of someone who had always stayed beside him, even when he shouldn't have. "Please, stay."

But sleep eluded him, and so did any comfort he might have found.

"You're breaking some serious rules, you know," the first mate muttered.

Jack didn't reply. He watched the curve of a planet's atmosphere slowly expand to fill the viewport. The sapphire jewel was less pristine than he remembered, the circumference more cluttered with satellites, but in his travels he'd seen it in worse condition.

The mate eyed the device Jack had tucked under his arm, then glanced over her shoulder. "They won't be happy when they find out."

"Then don't tell them," Jack said curtly. He held out a small electronic unit. "The payment we agreed on."

The ship's officer hastily palmed the credit chip and slipped it into her pocket. "Well, it's your funeral."

"If only." Jack smiled grimly. "You've confirmed the coordinates?"

She nodded. "As well as anyone can. But this is risky, warping the time stream like this."

"A calculated risk. I've done the math."

The mate shook her head. "There must be something really valuable back there, for you to go through all this. What's the big payoff?"

Jack was silent for a moment. "Someone fell asleep," he said at last. "I need to wake him up."

"You're a hell of an alarm clock." The officer looked him over thoughtfully, then checked the readout on her wrist display and led him into the airlock. "Okay, we're coming up on the jump zone. Remember, get clear of the ship's wake before you use the device, or it could trap us all in a time loop. And be careful—that thing can split reality. If you activate it at the wrong moment, you might end up duplicating yourself. Or someone else."

Jack grinned. "That's what I'm counting on."

"What?" The mate spun toward him. "Wait, hold on. Unauthorized excursions are one thing, but I can't let you deliberately misuse that technology!"

"I know what I'm doing."

"Temporal replication is banned for a reason. It's too dangerous."

Jack put one hand on the hatch release. "And it's too late now."

"Don't move." The mate drew her blaster and leveled it at Jack's chest. "You stay right where you are."

"Sorry," Jack said. "There's only one person I'll stay for, and this is the only way to get to him." With a flick of his wrist, he blew the cover. By the time she fired her weapon, Jack had vanished through the portal.

Jack awoke, but he was not alone. He burrowed into the warmth, his limbs encircling his prey like the arms of an octopus.

A grunt emerged from beneath him. "Jack." The words were muffled by a pillow. "You're smothering me. Leave me some room to breathe."

Jack pressed his cheek against whatever patch of skin was nearest. Probably a shoulder, judging by its unyielding curve. "You know the drill. I stay like this until you fall asleep." He pressed a kiss to the shoulder. "That was always the arrangement, wasn't it?"

Ianto wriggled against his grip and managed to twist around to face him. "It's a bit obsolete now. You broke reality and tied me to a perpetual time loop, remember? I don't actually need to sleep any more."

Jack raised his head and flashed his most brilliant smile. "Then I guess you'd better get used to me."

Ianto gave a beleaguered sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes, but there was no malice in it. "Fine," he muttered. "Stay."

And Jack stayed.

Author's Notes:

I have no clue where this came from.

Well, I do, in part; the lines "Stay until I fall asleep/I always do" were cut from an early draft of my long-form story Splinter (in a very different context, as Ianto was either dying or dead at the time), and I dropped it into my notes for possible later use. But the rest of this fic came out of nowhere. When I started, I was planning on playing around with the concept for a few hundred words, and then BAM! somehow I ended up deep in Ianto's psyche, dealing with the trauma of his abusive father. (For those who haven't watched CoE, one of the tidbits revealed about Ianto's past is that his father once broke his leg on a playground by "pushing too hard.")

This is also not my usual format; I usually write something more in the vein of continuous narrative, so this series of vignettes was somewhat outside my comfort zone as a writer (though I kept fleshing them out, so some of them are less vignettes and more miniature stories). It was a bit of an experiment all around!