Jack knocked on the door, making an effort to be a little quieter than usual — it was late, after all, and it wouldn't do to wake nosy neighbors. He considered that Ianto might be asleep, too; but then the door opened with a soft click, and Ianto had already turned his back. Jack closed the door behind him and made for the kitchen, dumping the latest load of groceries on the counter. This routine annoyed him a bit, but he had made a decision and he was nothing if not persistent. Besides, Ianto had done this for the team for months without a single thank-you; Jack could do the same for a week or so.

This was his fourth visit, the second week of Ianto's indefinite suspension. After that first night, Ianto hadn't said a word to him. The kid had barely looked at him, in fact; mostly he'd sat there and waited for Jack to leave. Even now, Ianto had returned to the couch and resumed reading a thick, well-worn book.

Jack sighed. Frankly, he knew that he deserved a lot worse than being ignored. He wouldn't have been even slightly surprised if Ianto had taken another swing at him. That would have been easier, he thought ruefully — nothing like a good fight to get something out of your system. But instead, he was being totally ignored by Torchwood's resident ghost: and he was hating it.

Part of him didn't want to be the one to speak first. Their last two visits had passed in complete silence, stuck in a battle of wills to see who would break first. But now, Jack realized that it was the wrong approach with Ianto. It would work with Owen or Gwen — they'd both be squirming at this unprecedented extended silence from the Captain. But Ianto, somewhat like Toshiko, didn't feel the need to speak. If he was testing Jack, it wasn't to see how long he could stay quiet: it was to see how long he would play this little game without realizing it.

So Jack started talking. Anything that came to mind: local news, the weather, innocent stuff at first — and inevitably, after helping himself to a glass of water and a seat, Jack began amusing himself with old stories. He stayed away from the jokes, knowing this wasn't the time, but found himself straying into nostalgia. Maybe it was the few pictures on Ianto's bookcase that he kept staring at: just a very few pictures that included Lisa, some old friends, reminders of what had been lost at Canary Wharf. Jack wondered if Ianto had put them up for himself or for Jack. He sighed and rose to his feet, indulging in a closer look.

"You know, I knew this girl," he murmured, "a long time ago…" He laughed softly. "Gwen reminds me of her, a little. Just the way she didn't take no for an answer. Always looking for the next adventure. Always excited, like a kid in a candy store sometimes; except she saw so much deeper than most. Saw me, even… saw someone I could be, not the person I had to be…" He sighed, his gaze drifting over to Ianto. The young man had barely moved over the course of two hours, only turning the pages of his book; but now his hands had gone still, and Jack noticed his eyes had closed.

Jack had fallen silent, just watching him, and after a moment Ianto blinked his eyes open and glanced at Jack. "She sounds lovely," he murmured, barely audible.

Jack slid his hands into his pockets. "Yeah, she was," he said with a sigh. "I haven't seen her in a long time… never will, now." He gazed toward the windows, the stars he knew were there behind the curtains. "I found her name on the list of the dead."

Ianto didn't have to ask which list. He closed his eyes again. "So you have loved someone."

Jack looked down at him again. "And I've lost them," he replied quietly.

Ianto didn't respond again, and Jack let out a breath, willing the ghosts away, old and new. He looked around at the closed blinds and the fastidiously clean flat. "Um… you don't have to stay here, you know," he said slowly. "I mean, if you become a security threat — start talking about Torchwood or do a runner — I'll have to give you the amnesia pill, but this is a work suspension, not house arrest. You don't have to stay in here."

Ianto shot a cynical eyebrow in his direction. "What is there for me anywhere else?"

Jack blinked at him. For a long while they were quiet again. Jack went to the windows, opened the blinds, and stood there looking out at the view of the city.

Finally Ianto broke the silence with a question Jack had been expecting since his first visit.

"Why haven't you killed me?"

"Do you want to die?" Jack replied. He already knew the answer. If Ianto had wanted that, they wouldn't be having this conversation now... with or without the Captain's cooperation.

Ianto looked at him for a long moment without meeting his eyes. Finally he muttered, "Don't think I'm brave enough to do it myself."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you're brave enough not to," he countered.

Ianto shot him a skeptical look.

"I'm serious," Jack insisted, leaning back against the wall. "You die for a cause, for something you believe in, to save somebody — that's brave. You die because you can't or won't deal with life, that's running away." He paused, fighting down dark memories. He was, after all, an expert at running away. Not the expert, but pretty god damned close.

Jack inhaled sharply and looked back up at his youngest employee, his most recent failing. "I admit you've got too many reasons to want the easy way out," he said slowly. "But there are lots of reasons to hang in there, if you're willing to look past how dark everything seems right now."

Ianto made a noise in the back of his throat. "Did you get that from a book, sir?"

Jack refused to rise to the bait. "No, actually, that was something that I had to learn the hard way."

Ianto nodded very slightly. "The hard way, indeed."

And then they were silent again.

AN: Thanks so much for the response, you guys! Coffee for everyone who reviewed ;)

If there's anyone who'd be willing to beta for these few conversations, or at least let me bounce some ideas around, please PM me. I've never done a progressive Jack and Ianto story like this and I'd appreciate some insight. Thanks!