Many thanks to everyone who left me reviews! Don't let any writer ever tell you comments don't help them march on.

Here's the next oneshot with a slightly older Ianto dealing with a death in the family and inadvertently assisting Torchwood Three.

Mild spoilers for "Fragments."


Entering the house through the back kitchen door, Ianto immediately felt something was off. For a second, blind panic overtook him as the feeling took him back to two weeks ago. The fifteen year old could hear footsteps approaching the kitchen and just about held back from turning and bolting back out the door. Oh, god. It was going to be Mrs. Price. She was going to tell him his mother was dead now too. Something about grief or suicide or an accident crossing the road or-

The tirade of morbid thoughts ceased when his mother appeared by the kitchen doorway. Still wearing her bathrobe and her hair a mess, she looked terrible. But she was alive and the sight of her shuffling in with her ratty slippers made Ianto want to grab her in a relieved hug. Instead, he let his backpack slip off his shoulder to the floor with a heavy thunk. "Hi, Mam," he greeted.

Bethan looked up as if just noticing her son standing there. "Oh, Ianto. You're home," she said. "How was school?" she inquired.

"Fine," he answered, warily observing her as she wandered listlessly toward the stove. This was actually the first time he'd seen her out of bed since they'd sold the last of his father's effects. "Do…do you need anything?" he asked.

"Just getting myself some tea," Bethan replied. "Would you like some?"

Ianto blinked in surprise and felt a small flip of hope in his stomach. His mother was making tea. And offering some as well. This was a definite improvement. "Yes, please," he answered quickly, sitting down at the table.

Bethan nodded, giving a wan smile as she filled the kettle. "Grab some milk out of the fridge," she instructed.

Ianto leapt to his feet before realizing that they didn't have any milk. They hadn't gone shopping the last couple of weeks. Not that they needed to with all the condolence meals Bethan's fellow churchgoers had piled into their kitchen since the funeral. But when the teen looked toward the fridge, he saw only the off white door and a blank dry erase board staring back at him. Suddenly, he knew what had been wrong earlier.

"Where's the shopping list?" he demanded. They always kept a running one on the dry erase board where they just added things they needed. Milk had been the last thing added to the list. Ianto knew that for a fact. His father had written it and underlined it that day. "Where's it gone?"

Bethan looked up from her contemplation of the kettle. "What?"

"The shopping list?" Ianto repeated, his voice getting slightly higher pitched.

"Your Aunt Winn did the shopping earlier today," Bethan frowned. She watched in bleary confusion as her son yanked the fridge open to indeed see that it was fully stocked with the items that had been formerly on the dry erase board. Ianto slammed the door shut, before turning around, his face furious.

"You let her do the shopping?!" Ianto about shouted at her.

Despite the amount of rage being directed at her, Bethan only blinked, looking bewildered by the inexplicable behavior. "What?" she managed. Without another word, Ianto left the way he came, pulling the door so harshly behind him, the entire frame shook. "No tea, then?" Bethan said to the empty air.


"I hate Cardiff," Henrietta Marwood stated, flatly. "I hate Cardiff, I hate Torchwood, I hate aliens, I hate my life."

"Hey, you add a tune to that and you might have a musical on your hands," Jack commented next to her in the van. "I hate Cardiff, I hate Torchwood," he sang.

"Oh, shut it, Harkness," Henrietta grumbled.

"Come on, Hennie Pennie. It's not so bad."

"Yes, it is," Henrietta insisted. "And don't call me that."

"Wow, you're cranky today."

"Why yes, yes I am," said the blond. "I'm always cranky when I get called in on my one day off in ages when I should be helping my sister shop for a wedding dress."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm supposed to be in Malta right now," Jack said, good naturedly.

Henrietta shook her head in mild exasperation. "Like you care. You'd stay in Cardiff forever if you had a choice. You love it here." Crossing her arms over her chest, the picture of a perfect sulk, she stared out her window and completely missed the shadow that crossed Jack's face before it disappeared again.

"What's not to love about Cardiff?" Jack asked, cheer lighting up his voice. "It's full of people with sexy accents and an unnatural love for manly rugby."

"You don't even watch rugby," Henrietta pointed out, refusing to be jostled out of her black mood. "Not for the game, in any case."

Jack was on the verge of giving up when Raj's voice filtered into his ear. "If you're done bitching and moaning, Hen, could we get on with the job?"

Heaving a last sigh, Henrietta tapped her ear, "Got movement on your end, Raj?"

"I'm not picking anything up on my scanner," he replied. "There's a fair number of shops about here though. If this thing's as attention-grabbing as you say it is, Jack, Jess and I are going to need you to bring the car around here after we take it down. Dragging it around, someone's bound to notice."

Jack pressed a finger to his ear. "You know, you guys should really look into investing in another car. Or use one of your own personal ones."

"Right and the first time out, I'm going to get Weevil slobber all over the backseat," replied Raj. "I'm not having that."

"So buy a new car for the office."

"Cars cost money," Raj argued.

"You guys pay me enough to freelance for you."

"Is that an offer to buy us a van, Jack?" Alex's voice filtered in.

"A Meenan's about as noticeable as a Weevil," said Jack, rapidly changing the subject. "And they're about as half as strong. Just knock it out and if someone sees you, Raj, use the retcon."

"Oh, no," Alex stated, firmly. "We're cutting back on that pill. Try and exercise some stealth on this one, will you? We're going to end up retconning all of Cardiff at the rate we're going."

Jack sighed, resignedly. "You're the boss."

"Alex's right you know," Henrietta agreed after they'd signed off. "That amnesia pill makes me nervous."

"It's perfectly harm- ah, Meenan! Two o'clock!" Jack exclaimed, pointing down the alley they were currently parked next to.

Kicking her door open, Henrietta took off toward the misshapen, but vaguely humanoid figure still crouching by a set of bins. As she neared it, it leapt up from its spot and roared at her, sounding somewhat like a Weevil that had inhaled some helium. Even a foot away, she could smell its breath.

"You caught me on a bad day, mate," she stated when it launched itself at her. Bending low, she kicked out with her foot and caught it square in its chest, pushing it back a few feet. Recovering rapidly, it took a swipe at her, which Henrietta ducked. She thrust out her hand that held that stun gun and got it in the side as she ran forward, switching places with it.

The Meenan howled, but it didn't go down. Instead it turned to her, its sunken eyes now brimming with the promise of viciousness and pain.

"Shit," Henrietta muttered. "I thought you said these things were weaker than Weevils!"

The Meenan suddenly began to convulse as an electric buzzing filled the air. It dropped to ground, revealing Jack standing behind it, holding a stun gun of his own. "You have to get it in the neck," he explained, gesturing to his own.

"Thanks for that bit of information," said Henrietta, sarcastically.

"Hey, I was trying to tell you before you took off," Jack responded. He eyed the stun gun in his hand with a grimace. "Man, I'm going to be glad when these things get an upgrade in the 21st century."

Pulling a Weevil bag from her pocket, Henrietta fitted it over the unconscious Meenan's head. "What makes you think it's going to get an upgrade then?"

Jack shrugged. "Call it a hunch."

Shaking her head, Henrietta activated her comm. "Raj, we got one. How are you and Jess doing?"

"What took you so long, Hen?" Raj asked. She could hear the smugness in his voice. "Jess and I caught ours ages ago."

"We just talked not two minutes before," Henrietta retorted.

"So fine, Jess tasered the bugger down right now," admitted Raj.

"Where are you?" asked Jack. "We can bring the car around."

"About a block from you. Just meet us on the east side of your street."

"Isn't someone going to see you?" Henrietta inquired. She and Jack had at least the good fortune to nab theirs in a deserted alleyway.

"Nah," Raj answered. He gave a slight 'oof,' and Henrietta guessed he was hefting up the body. "There's a brawl going down in a pawn shop across the street. Some kid's getting nicked or something. Huge crowd gathered there, no one's going to be looking our way. See you in two minutes."

Jack bent down to grab the Meenan's feet while Henrietta took the shoulders. "God bless juvenile delinquency," he grinned at her.

"Two down," she grunted, lifting up her half.

"Only nine more to go."

Henrietta sighed.


The car ride back to the house was in stony silence as Winnifred Jones kept her eyes on the road, her hands gripping the steering wheel. Next to her, Ianto stared out of his window, refusing to look at her. When they finally pulled into the driveway, Winnifred killed the engine, but didn't get out of the car. Neither did her nephew.

Despite making an effort, Winnifred had finally accepted at some point that she just wasn't cut out of domesticity. She couldn't cook, she wasn't a fan of cleaning and as her mother had often pointed out to her, she wasn't compromising enough to keep a boyfriend, let alone a husband. And apparently, every male in the world seemed to agree with her mother. So, she'd more or less reasoned to herself that she would most likely never be a parent. Which was why she found she wasn't really prepared in how to deal with her nephew.

A voice in the back of her head told her this was Bethan's job. But her sister in law was still only making the smallest steps toward recovering from Huw's death. And whether Winnifred liked it or not, she was the only adult around who was currently stable enough to handle this, lack of experience aside.

"What exactly were you thinking, Ianto?" she blurted out. Ianto only shrugged and a spike of anger shot through Winnifred's body. "You don't DO things like this. You're a good kid. I mean, what's come over you?" she demanded, before giving herself a mental slap. "Look," she tried for a calmer voice. "I know things have been difficult. It's been for all of us. But that's no excuse for what you did today." Winnifred inwardly winced as she realized how much she sounded like her mother on that last sentence and remembered how much she'd hated that tone. But when she looked at her nephew, he only sat silently, finding great interest in his knees. "Your mother doesn't need anymore stress right now."

"Like Mam'd notice," said Ianto, bitterly. "She's useless."

"Ianto Jones!" Winnifred thundered. "Don't you dare speak that way about your mother!"

"It's true!" Ianto retorted, his eyes flashing. "She just lies about all day. A bomb could go off and she wouldn't notice."

"And you thought this was good cause to steal from Mr. Nayes, did you?" Winnifred asked, sharply. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are this is only being treated as a shoplifting offense? He could have sued you and your mother for assault and there are enough financial problems as it is."

After Huw's funeral, Winnifred had been forced to help Bethan sell her older brother's shop and pretty much all of his effects to pay for everything. Even after that, Huw's faltering business had put Bethan into a heavy debt that she was only just keeping her head above.

"I didn't steal from him," Ianto muttered, sullenly.

Winnifred raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And what would you call trying to walk out of his shop with a watch you didn't pay for?"

"It's not his watch. It's Dad's."

Winnifred opened her mouth to reflexively argue back, but then paused. Slowly, she sighed. "Ianto, I know how much your father loved that watch. I know how much you did too and we didn't enjoy selling it, but we had to," she reasoned. "You and I went over this after Mr. Nayes bought it."

"It's not his," Ianto insisted, stubbornly. His hands clenched over his knees as he stared out the front window. "It's Dad's."

"Even so," Winnifred said. "Mr. Nayes owns it. You don't have the right to take it from him. It won't change…" she faltered. "It won't change anything."

"You erased the shopping list!" Ianto suddenly exploded, turning to Winnifred so quickly that the woman reeled back a little.

"What?" she asked, half shocked.

"You went shopping!" he accused. "You erased the list on our fridge!"

Winnifred stared at her nephew, whose eyes were filling with tears and tried to figure out exactly how she'd lost the thread of this conversation. "I…someone had to go," she explained, sounding hesitant, despite herself. "The food from your mother's church was nice and all, but you need your own things. Besides, the list had been up for ages and…" Winnifred trailed off when Ianto broke his gaze from hers and stared out his window again. She saw him angrily swipe at his face with his hand and something clicked her in mind.

She saw herself putting away the groceries she'd gotten in the fridge. She remembered taking a small napkin and wiping out each item on the dry erase board as she mentally ticked off what she'd bought. She remembered having to wipe especially hard as the ink was a little old. But looking back on it now, she realized the list had indeed been up for ages and was therefore comprised of three different handwritings: Bethan's, Ianto's and Huw's.

Ianto had argued, yes, when they'd had to sell Huw's belongings. But her nephew had accepted the harsh necessity of it incredibly well, all things considered. Even as one by one, all of his father's personal items had disappeared from the house along with the tailoring shop, he'd remained stoic about it.

A few hurried lines on a shopping list were such little things. But Winnifred saw that the request for milk, marmite and honey had been really the only few precious traces left of Huw. Small reminders of his presence in the house after everything else had gone. And she'd erased them without thinking. Without considering that maybe there had been a reason why Ianto hadn't gone to do the shopping despite so many days passing by.

Without weighing the pros and cons, Winnifred leaned over the gear stick and wrapped her arms around her nephew. She could feel Ianto's body stiffen at the contact, even as he trembled slightly. He still refused to look at her, taking another rough swipe at his face. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry, Ianto."

"It's not his watch," Ianto repeated, the waver in his voice betraying the fact he was crying.

"I know."

"It's Dad's."

"It is," said Winnifred, keeping her arms around him. "I'm sorry." She could feel the hitch in Ianto's breathing, heard the sob that followed it and tightened her hold as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck. Sitting there, Winnifred realized not for the first time, but with a painful reminder just how much Ianto reminded her of her late brother at this age. From the way he looked to the way he tried to section and bottle everything away until something shattered. And suddenly she missed Huw so much more desperately.

They sat in the car awhile longer until both their tears subsided. Wordlessly, Winnifred handed over a handkerchief, which Ianto silently accepted. Finally, he murmured, "Mam's going to be upset."

"I'll talk to her," Winnifred assured. "It'll be alright." Ianto didn't look particularly convinced. Reaching over, she tenderly brushed her hand over his hair. "It'll be okay," she promised.

Ianto looked at her, uncertainly. But after a beat, he nodded, his eyes dropping back down to his lap. "Aunt Winn?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for getting arrested."

"It's alright."

"I just…I wanted…I wanted to have something…" he trailed off, taking a shuddering breath.

Winnifred gently squeezed his shoulder. "I know. It's okay," she assured. "How about we go inside? I'll make us a coffee."

"I don't drink coffee," said Ianto, quietly.

"That's because you've only ever had bad coffee," she insisted, trying to infuse some levity. "I'll teach you how to make good coffee. You'll need to learn if you're going to survive University."

Ianto frowned. "I'm not going to University."

"Oh, yes, you bloody are," Winnifred huffed. She knew it had been Huw's wish to see his son attend and like hell she was going to let that dream die with her brother.

"But we can't afford it," Ianto argued.

"We'll think of something," Winnifred insisted. "We have a few years to think about it. For now, let's just get you to master the coffeemaker."

THE END