"Ianto? Ianto. Ianto!" Ianto Jones jolted into awareness.

Gwen was looking at him sympathetically. "Are you okay? You were zoning out."

He shook his head. "I'm fine. Just… fine."

She touched his shoulder lightly. "If you ever need anyone to talk to…"

He looked away.

"We're all trying to cope." She said quietly, her welsh-accented voice dampened by the emptiness of the Hub. "Get some rest."

Ianto exhaled, closing his eyes as Gwen left through the cog-wheel door. Resting, in this case, was his problem. Every time he let himself relax, breathe – even now, amidst all of the chaos in his life – something was setting him on edge. Something, just on the tip of his tongue. He had felt this before, but ever since Jack's absence then return, it had been growing more persistent, and now, with Tosh and Owen –

He shut off that line of thought. Not here, not now, have to keep on a face for the team. Not that it's much of a team anymore.

Almost without him realizing, his hand slipped into his pocket, drawing out a small sketchbook, while his other hand reached for a pencil. A few dozen strokes had down Owen's face, then Tosh's, but he couldn't stop. Designs, more and more complex, spiraling every which way. A boy's face [adric, his mind whispered, castrovalva and the web] which he didn't recognize, a Grecian pillar, an embellished figure eight. A hood, almost a dementor, a decayed face peeking out, the longest scarf anyone could imagine, a stick of celery. Martha Jones, her hair unstraightened after a year, dressed in clothes to suit a rebellion. Interlocking circles, a fob watch, a giant rocked blasting off as an insect raised her gun –

"Ianto?"

The pencil swerved, crossing the insect-girl's face and marring the picture. Ianto looked up. "Sir."

"I didn't know that you drew," the ex-Time Agent remarked, trying to sneak a peek at the book. "And I thought that we were over the whole 'sir' thing?"

Ianto shrugged. "I just sketch. Nothing interesting," he added, deftly maneuvering his almost-full book away from Jack's field of view.

"No such thing as an uninteresting sketch," Jack remarked, grinning. "How long have you been drawing?"

His face closed up, even more than it had already. "Since before I joined Torchwood."

Jack, sensing a difficult topic, backed off. "Okay. Everyone has their hobbies. Like I knew this cat-girl once who…" Jack faded to the back of Ianto's mind as he began a long, winding anectdote involving the aforementioned cat-girl, gelato, and an unexpected allergy to human… parts.

Meanwhile, he allowed his mind to wander for the third time that day. This time, he focused on the images he had drawn. He had attempted this before, and each time it gave him a headache, but he wanted – needed – to know where they came from, why he thought of these images.

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, disoriented and confused. "What…" he trailed off, seeing Jack's worried face.

"You tripped," his lover explained. "Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up? Any hallucinations?"

"Yes, three, and no." He slowly pushed himself to a sitting position and groaned, both because of the headache and because the contents of his pockets were all over the floor. It wasn't much, his notebook, a pencil, a pen, a few coins, and an old fob watch, but it would be annoying to pick up. Especially the coins.

Jack was silent, staring at the watch.

"Jack…?" Ianto said uncertainly.

He shook his head, focusing his attention on Ianto. "Sorry. Just… memories. Where did you get that watch? I don't think I've seen it before."

Ianto frowned. "I've had it forever. It used to belong to my dad. It doesn't open, it's just a fob watch. Why?"

If anything, Jack looked even more worried, though he was hiding it well. "No reason. Just curious. Forget it."

He raised one eyebrow, questioning. He could tell when Jack wasn't telling the whole truth.

Jack sighed. "Just… an old legend. Fob watches with mysterious designs on them – ghost stories. It's nothing," he said again insistently. "Are you sure you're okay? You hit your head pretty heard."

Ianto rolled his eyes and stood up. "I'm fine… ooh." The world spun under his feet for a moment, and it was Jack's turn to raise an incredulous eyebrow. "Maybe I should head home for the night."

He pretended not to notice Jack palming the watch.