II. We Three Kings (or Weevils)

Jack wasn't sure why he hadn't taken Ianto up on his offer to either stay at the Hub together or go back to Ianto's flat. Both had been so tempting, exactly what he wanted, and yet at the same time he felt…well, intrusive. Presumptuous. It was Christmas, and Jack wasn't going to assume that Ianto actually wanted to spend it with him, as opposed to feeling obligated to ask. Assuming any such thing that meant something Jack wasn't quite prepared to get into, yet alone at Christmas.

So he watched Ianto leave and sank back down on the couch with a sigh. Sometimes he really hated Christmas. There had been years when he had been perfectly happy to spend it alone, as well as years where he had spent it with someone he truly cared about. And there had been years where he had spent it working, chasing down aliens for Torchwood because Torchwood was, in the end, the only real constant in his life. People came and went; Torchwood had been with him for over a hundred years.

Then there was this year: he didn't have to work, and he could be spending the holiday with someone he cared about, only he wouldn't let himself admit that he cared more than he probably should, and therefore he would spend it alone at work. Sometimes Jack had to admit even his line of reasoning didn't make sense. He tried to live in the present, but too often the past held him back and the future terrified him.

He sat there for a while, trying to decide whether to change his mind and call Ianto, or if he should just wait until the next morning to see him as planned. Yet what would he say then? It could be just as awkward as heading to Ianto's flat that night. They had somehow—in spite of a distinct lack of discussion about 'them'—agreed to not exchange gifts, so Jack had nothing to offer if he went over to Ianto's flat Christmas morning, and he suddenly hated that they had decided to do it that way. Maybe he would call and see if Ianto wouldn't mind having him over tomorrow night instead so that they could catch up on the day and skip the awkward Christmas morning stuff. Maybe Ianto would even tell him more about his family and his life, something he rarely talked about; in a very deep, private place where Jack tried not to look, a part of him was envious and wished he could join Ianto, even knowing how much the man dreaded spending the day with his family. At least he had one.

Seeing Ianto later in the day sounded like a good plan, and with his mind somewhat settled, Jack headed to his office. Glancing around the empty hub, he smiled to himself. He had a good team; they deserved Christmas off, and so did he, even if he was alone. He was used to it, after all. So he ignored the paperwork piled up on his desk, poured himself a drink, and headed down to his room, where he decided he would read a bit before trying to sleep. If he couldn't sleep, he'd go climb a roof and see if he couldn't follow what alien mishap befell London that year—or perhaps he'd track Santa's sleigh instead.

The latter thought made him chuckle as he settled down into a chair, scotch in hand and a battered copy of Charles Dickens ready. He sighed, knowing the sense of contentment he felt was slightly forced and marred by a loneliness that he could only hope would go away the next day when he saw Ianto. Settling in, he sipped at his scotch, let his mind wander as he read, and checked the news, before finally laying down for a while, knowing full well he'd be up in a few hours because his mind was just too busy to relax. And something was bound to go down in London.

When he did wake up, it was to a shrill beeping from upstairs. One of the computers was signalling a problem—in Cardiff, and on Christmas Eve. With a sigh he wiped the sleep from his eyes and bolted upstairs. Pulling it up on the computer in his office, Jack found a trio of Weevils wandering around Victoria Park. His first thought was that it was not far from where Ianto lived; his second was that it was two in the morning and Ianto was surely asleep; and his third thought was that Ianto had said to call him if anything came up. Jack didn't exactly relish the thought of tracking down several Weevils on his own, nor did he want to wake Ianto after such a hard month. Yet the selfish part of him wanted to call Ianto just to see him again. Weevil hunting usually ended up with one or both of them dirty and naked in the shower, and he couldn't think of a better way to spend Christmas Eve.

Ianto answered his mobile quickly, but with an obviously disguised yawn.

"Were you asleep or are were you actually waiting for me to call you?" Jack teased. He could imagine Ianto huffing on the other end of the line.

"I was asleep, yes. But I seem to have fallen asleep on the couch with a cold cup of cocoa and a crick in my neck," said Ianto, sounding more alert. "Besides, it's not morning yet, why are you calling? Has something come up?"

"Weevil trio in the park," said Jack cheerfully. "Care to join me before they attack any reindeer?"

Again he could almost picture Ianto rolling his eyes. "Can't have Father Christmas stranded in Cardiff, can we? I'll meet you there."

"No, I'll pick you up," said Jack, throwing on his coat and strapping his Webley in place. "I don't want you trying to take down all three on your own."

"I'll leave you one then," said Ianto, and Jack laughed.

"No, we'll work them together, like always. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Brilliant. We're actually hunting Weevils on Christmas. Doesn't get much better than that."

"Could be worse," said Jack as he left the Hub and hurried toward the SUV. "You could still be snoring into your cocoa."

"I wasn't snoring," said Ianto.

"Doubt it," replied Jack. "Especially if you kipped off on the couch."

"Yes, well if a man snores in his living room but there's no one around to hear it, does he really make any sound?" asked Ianto. Jack could hear the other man moving around his flat, likely cleaning up and getting dressed. He wished he'd gone home with Ianto. He could have been lying there with him, watching old holiday movies and drinking hot cocoa. Instead he'd dozed off at work by himself and was now heading out to chase aliens in the middle of the night. What a Christmas.

"I don't know. That's a good question for Tosh, though," he said with a laugh, the banter lightening his mood. "She could run probably run some tests."

"Not on me!" exclaimed Ianto.

"Well, I don't snore," said Jack.

"You do so," said Ianto.

"Do not," said Jack.

"I'm hanging up," said Ianto. "See you in a few."

Jack laughed as he disconnected the call. He was feeling strangely eager about chasing Weevils on Christmas Eve, even though he knew that logically it was a ridiculous thing. He also felt guilty for calling Ianto, though he sensed Ianto hadn't really minded. Maybe Jack would get to spend the night with him after all… and that's what he was really looking forward to, if he admitted it.

Turning on the radio to check for news, Jack was not surprised to hear reports of a giant spaceship heading toward Buckingham Palace. He shook his head, knowing the Doctor was likely there to stop it, only vaguely wishing he could be there as well. He had made his choice and had not regretted a thing since he had returned: he belonged at Torchwood. And he was saving Christmas too, just in a slightly more mundane way.

Ianto was waiting outside his flat when Jack pulled up. "You're not going to invite me in for a drink?" he teased as Ianto climbed into the passenger door. He was wearing jeans and a jumper under his wool short coat, as well as gloves and a sharp scarf. He looked young and attractive, as well as unusually awake and glad to be there, which Jack felt another stab of guilt for: Ianto should be in bed, resting after a hard week of work. Or he should be with his family, perhaps even a wife and children, looking forward to opening the packages under the tree on Christmas morning. Staring at Ianto as strange images of the Welshman surrounded by screaming, laughing children floated through his mind, Jack shook his head as he pulled away and headed toward the park. Ianto had offered to spend the night with him, offered to help if anything happened, offered so much more…why then did Jack always feel so guilty about it?

They reached the park quickly and set out with torches lit. Naturally it was completely quiet and empty, at least until they heard the first tell tale signs of several Weevils grunting and growling. Apparently the three wanderers were not getting along that Christmas—they were clawing at one another viciously in a clearing, as if fighting over something.

Ianto gave Jack a questioning look, and Jack shook his head; he'd rarely seen Weevils fight like that. Maybe they didn't like Christmas. Motioning at Ianto to circle around, he double checked his Webley, but pulled the stun gun from his coat pocket. A quick look around confirmed these were the only three Weevils in the area, and that Ianto was now directly opposite him, ready and in position.

Jack stepped forward and whistled loudly, interrupting the strange fight. The three Weevils turned immediately toward him, hissing and spitting; one of them dropped something shiny and gold.

"What, no Christmas spirit?" he called. He saw Ianto sneaking up on them, stun gun raised and a look of exasperated concentration on his face. Jack grinned; he couldn't help it, he was out on Christmas Eve hunting Weevils with Ianto Jones. As far as he was concerned, it really didn't get much better. At least, not until later.

"Santa not bring you your favourite toy?" he added, keeping a close eye on both the Weevils and Ianto. Ianto finally gave a small nod, and Jack signalled back. "Sorry about that, but your holiday is about to get even worse."

Ianto stepped up and stunned the closest of the Weevils, dropping it to the ground immediately. The other two whirled on him, and he stepped back, gun still raised, as Jack took down one of them from behind. The third one, however, sensing it was now trapped between them, decided to attack rather than run. And it whirled on Jack instead of Ianto, with a sudden burst of speed that was all but unavoidable.

The snarling creature slammed into him and they fell backwards, a jumble of arms and legs and very sharp teeth. And yet it wasn't the teeth that did him in, not this time: Jack hit his head on a large rock and felt the world explode into light, and then the darkness began to surround him, just like it always did when he was fatally wounded.

His last thought was that Christmas was a hell of a day to die—and that Ianto had better survive it to celebrate properly instead of watching over his dead arse.

Author's Notes:

Well, of course Jack dies on Christmas, how could I not go there? I'm not trying to reinvent the wheel or anything, I leave that to better authors. This is just me and my belated Christmas spirit having free reign over my favourite couple. And I do hope you enjoy, because there is a point to it all. I think.