Forgot this…Disclaim. I disclaim. Not mine.

Aoife turned back around, running her hands through her hair. Okay, so Ianto was sick. That made some sense, but…

"Aoife, you don't need to be here."

"Well," She moved towards the table and pulled out the other chair. "Mom was worried, because she does, and she got Ainsley worried, so they sent me up here to check up on you, and hopefully visit the shops." She tried to laugh a little, but her little brother's face remained placid and pale.

"You're sick." She lifted her wrist to test his forehead, like their mother had done when they were young and trying to skive off school. "You are sick." She determined.

"I'm fine." Ianto pushed himself up, rocking on his feet before stumbling forward.

"Yanno, where's Jack?"

He lifted a pillow off the couch and moved it to the other corner.

"Gone."

"What- Gone?"

"Yes. He left."

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know really."

"When's he coming back?" Ianto just shrugged, folding a blanket a second time.

"He is coming back right?"

"Might not. It's hard to know with Jack."

"But…did you have a row?" Aoife stood and walked to him. Ianto's head moved slightly, then shook quickly.

"No. He just….He's gone."

"Yanno." Aoife put her hand on his shoulder. She wasn't very good at this. That was Ainsley's job.

"You should go. Visit the shops. I'll call Mum, tell her I'm fine."

"You're not fine, you idiot." Aoife's voice was at once harsh and coddling. "You've worried yourself sick."

Ianto turned, keeping his eyes down.

"I'm fine. I only came home because Owen said I might be spreading."

"Come here." Aoife lifted her hands, pulling Ianto's head low onto her shoulder.

"I'm alright Aoife."

She grabbed his hand, sitting on the couch and trying to tug him down with her.

"Look, I know I haven't always been the best, but let me be your big sister."

"I…." Ianto looked up at her, his eyes glossy and red along the edges.

"Yanno. Your socks don't match." He looked back down.

"I'm tired Aoife."

"Okay." She grabbed the blanket he had folded and stood. "Feet up."

Ianto's mismatched feet lifted onto the couch and he lay down across it. Aoife spread the blanket over him.

"We'll see what we can do about the IV later, but you get some sleep, alright? I know you can sleep. I remember you used to be impossible to wake up when you were fourteen, fifteen."

"Things change." Ianto murmured, letting his eyes fall lax.

"I know Yanno." Aoife took her tea from the kitchen and moved to sit in the chair opposite the couch. Her iPod was in her pocket. She would be occupied as she kept an eye on Ianto. And when he was asleep, she would go into the hall to the bedroom and call Ainsley.

Ianto shifted restlessly, kicking the blanket off of his feet.

"I don't know where he's gone."

Aoife didn't know what to say to that.

Ianto woke up, feeling cold and clammy. He pushed the blankets off.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to have a shower. M'cold."

"Alright. I'm going to make you some supper. Is your stomach alright?"

"Yeah, just no chilies or curry."

He disappeared down the hallway. A moment passed before Aoife could hear the water running through the pipes. It would be scrambled eggs and buttered toast for meal. It was one of her brother's favourites and she could handle making it.

Ianto stepped out of the bath to the smell of scrambled eggs. He wouldn't admit it, but it was nice to have someone here. Especially someone who knew things without asking. When he was sick he was in no mood to extol his list of disliked food and drink to Gwen or Tosh.

Ianto pushed into his bedroom, his shoulders chilled from the drops of water falling from his hair. He pulled on a pair of summer shorts, ones he had worn when he'd gone down to the seaside with Tony and Mahmet and Talia last year. There somehow managed to still have sand in the back pockets, despite washings. With a thermal jersey on top he wandered back towards the main room of his flat.

"There you are. Come have a seat. I've set you a place." Ianto looked and saw a plate of eggs, with black pepper and toast points, and three tall water glasses in front, full.

"That Owen bloke said you were dehydrated. Come on now. Drink up." Aoife nudged one of the glasses a little.

'Thanks Aoife."

She took a forkful of eggs, watching him, her little brother. He'd always been a bit old-spirited. They'd teased him when he was younger, but it wasn't all he was. Funny, in a completely different way than she could manage. Quiet and subtly. It was his style, quiet, subtle and clever. Definitely clever. He hadn't spent much time on school when he had been a teenager. Or on behaving. He had worn ripped jeans and old t-shirts, just to bother their father, had come home late, dated girls, boys, anyone he felt like. And somehow he always got away with it. His cleverness and a bit of a babyface had always managed to stop him short of detentions and suspensions, and scoldings rolled off his back.

But she knew things about him, her little brother. She knew that when things went really bad, when he couldn't be clever and slick-backed anymore, Ainsley would rest his head on a pillow and stroke his hair. She knew that when their father had died, he had come home from uni that day with a respectable haircut, wearing the suit dad had made for him the previous Christmas, for the first time. She knew that he was brighter then most people would know about him. His memory was intensely expansive, and at times it seemed like he almost knew things he shouldn't or couldn't. And he cared about other people. A lot. Loved them in a way that was subtle to others, and at times painful to him. He was good with children, even though he pretended not to like them very much. He read sci-fi novels, alongside old classics and auto magazines. He walked in his sleep when he had been little, once wandering outside and falling asleep in the back garden flower bed. He was her little brother. And nothing she could think of could make this better for him. So she sat at the table and badgered him to drink down three glasses of water.