2.

The man who was sitting in front of me wore a half-smile on his movie-star face and got a lot of flaws. For once he got more years behind his shoulders than I dared to imagine or should be comfortable with given the nature of our relationships. Hell I didn't even know his real name, just an alias that got too cosy, just like his outdated for half a century choice of clothes. And I put up with all that and more; even - you can - say learned to appreciate his numerous faults, because there were benefits and they pretty much outweighed any reasonable doubts I came up with on the course of last few years.

There were many things in our shared past. Some bad, some good, some outright ugly or downright impossible. We got it all. I remembered that I promised to kill him once and so did he.

Part of me wondered why not one of us yet followed it through. Another part of me wanted nothing more than press a kiss to his lips and round it into something more.

Maybe I loved him, maybe he loved me back.

Jack gaze fall behind me and my ears caught the sound of heels running up the stair.

Smell of fresh-baked doughnuts and coffee.

"Ianto, I need you," said Gwen from the doorway in tone that didn't permit any objections.

Jack in mocking defeat raised his hands.

"Now?" I asked as I got up from where I had perched on the edge of Jack's desk and turned towards her. I believe there was more than a hint of displeasure in my voice.

She crossed her arms on her chest and suppressed a knowing smile. She looked smug and beautiful and she damn knew it.

I still couldn't believe that I got a niece that wasn't six years old menace after pocket money. The fact that it was Gwen – scared me. I was torn between wonder and terror. And under circumstances no one could blame.

"I'm sure Jack will be able to finish for himself whatever you were doing."

I straitened my tie and shifted my gaze back to Jack.

"Right. Later than."

"Rain check."

"Jack, we were going over our budget."

He looked perplexed.

"Really?" he asked. Than, "Oh."

Sometimes I wondered what I was still doing in Torchwood.

With Jack, I mean.

Well maybe it was both the answer and the question on itself. Serpent biting its own tail and everything.

"What's the matter?" I asked moving to the door.

"We are going to Llandaff. I'll explain on the way."

"Oh joy! We are going into park."

"Don't make this face, Ianto."

"You are five steps before me down the stairs, Gwen."

"So?"

We made our way out of the Hub and to SUV. I got into the driving seat and started the engine. Gwen set on the front seat.

I remembered cheeky spy movies and it brought home not the best of memories about some poor executed judgment and pretty woman. Since that Saturday that lasted three months we shared a secret that non of us was eager to let Jack in. Dangerous thing secrets in our line of work. Alluring too. You keep so many that it starts to feel almost like stamps collecting when you are ten years old boy. One more or one less, but defiantly greedy for one more.

It was our riddle, my and Gwen, to solve.

And any teenager dream that his parents are really nor his in reality was turning out to be a real pain in the ass. Both my parents were dead and the only thing we were able to confirm was that my righteous mum cheated on her husband. Don't think they keep lock of hair in case of comparative DNA analyses, but that's better that exhumation, right? So it was pretty much dead end from my side of things. Gwen got better luck. Mrs Cooper of course made a scene. Never wanted her daughter to find out. I could certainly retaliate. But in the end she gave us the name Carl Corey. We checked him out and found nothing. Three decades ago he got a normal life in States: job, friends, bank account, parking tickets and house. And then one day he just disappeared.

"Look. I'm younger than you, right? Seven year or so?" I asked watching Cardiff moving by. I felt uncertain.

"Sound about right," she agreed. "By the way, did Torchwood recruited you from the school bench?"

I choose to ignore that question.

"It just strikes me as odd."

"Aha! You noticed too!"

"Hard too miss. How old was my daddy dearest if he got forty something year old son by the time he and mum met in some Cardiff bar?"

"Clean living?"

"You think so?"

"Oh, I defiantly don't think so."

"What did you find?"

"Remember how we thought Carl Corey disappeared two months after his return to States? Well, he didn't. At least not completely. Seven years later he reappeared again. Ordered a bunch of ammo and left once again, until roughly half year later on November 27 he was mugged in his own house in San-Francisco. Then he disappeared."

"Don't see how it's improvement. Just another dead end."

"Nope. Because twenty years ago Merle Corey showed up."

"Another relative?"

"Yep. My handsome older brother. See this?"

I glanced quickly to her outstretched arm holding PDA. On the screen there was a photo of a man bearing striking resemblance to Carl Corey or Gwen for that matter. I returned eyes to the road.

"So where is he now?"

Gwen sighed.

"Well, he finished Berkeley, worked for a few years on Grand Design, an american firm that specialized in computers and…"

"He disappeared too," I guessed.

"Poof! Nothing."

"I see a theme here."

She chuckled.

"But he didn't do it alone. His advocate, Bill Roth disappeared from the face of the Earth in roughly the same time. And his family too."

"FBI? CIA? Witness protection program?"

"No. Carl got some links, but nothing serious."

"But it's not the end?"

"Not by a long shot. Apparently, you got a sister too. Evelyn Flaumel. Nothing in official records, but Doctor Roth practice indicated it."

"Right. So what happened to her? Another case of unexplainable disappearance?"

"Nope. Well she did leave now and again, but always returned. Moved all the time. New York, San Francisco, Berlin, Rome."

"So where is she now?

"Oh according to records she is dead."

"You luck of concerned for your poor old aunt is disturbing."

"Ha! You'd better pull over for this one."

I stopped the car near some shopping mall and turned to face Gwen.

"Look through this."

Gwen handed me her PDA. The photo album was opened and women looked at me. She had dark blond hair done in low ponytail and clothes that in seventies must have been the latest fashion. The photo wasn't all that good, but even from it I could tell she was beautiful. I thought that we got the same eyes.

"Go on. Look at the rest!"

There must have been dozens of photos, some clearly done by paparazzi and some stylized as paintings. The same women looked from all of them, imprinted memories of life filled with parties, men and money. Something was stirring at the back of my mind and for the life of me I couldn't figure what.

"What do you make of it?"

"Everybody in the family is unfairly good looking? Good plastic surgeon too."

"You would think that. Actually only first three photos are Evelyn Flaumel."

I felt my heart thinking down.

Gwen bent over.

"The oldest one done in the twenties, the latest one just this year. Different names of course. My personal favourite one is Lady Emma Fleetwood, 1811. Painting by Charles de Steuben."

So it wasn't stylization.

Maybe if I didn't know Jack I would have tried to rationalise it somehow: dominant genes, family resemblance. But I did and so I had to admit it was the same woman, unchanged by time itself.

"What about Carl Corey?"

"Well once I knew what I should be looking for… pretty much the same. Only he hid his traces better. But I'm not bad myself. The earliest I could find is portrait by Nicolas Lancret, 1718. He was 35 five for two and a half centuries."

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Gwen put computer back into her bag and starred at parking lot crossed with heavy rain. And when did it start?

I didn't know what to say. And anyway it looked like Gwen didn't deal the last card yet.

"Can I have a punch line now and the rest later?"

"Okay," she said. She sounded calm, but then again she much have freaked out before. "Tell me, Ianto, how many chains are in human DNA?"

Oh! She got to be kidding…

"Two. That's pretty well known fact."

"Obviously not for Torchwood in general and Doctor Owen Harper in particular. Because we got three and no one ever noticed."

Nothing like rainy afternoon in Cardiff to discover that you have secretly been an alien your whole life. At least I was on a good company.

Tbc…

A/N: the trouble of doing crossover of CoA with… anything really is that anything is in great danger of becoming irrelevant background detail. But I believe I've found a balance. This is partly the reason I'm doing it from Ianto (Torchwood) POV, and not Luke or say Flora (Amber). Also Ianto is kind of protagonist aka narrator here, well him and Gwen but switching perspective every other chapter... I don't think it will work here. Those of you familiar with Amber must have noticed that I tried to make his style close to Corwin and Merlin narrative, but less intricate in style on account of Ianto being in his mid twenties and everything.