Lisa tried not to cry for the third time on that Tube ride. She concentrated on the non-existent fish; it was the most imperative thing to her. She had settled in with Ianto and had settled into a brilliant job at Torchwood. One of the brightest administrative personnel they had ever had, Martin had exclaimed. Right now, any praise would have been spat upon, she was sure of it.
So much had come and gone. Two years had passed since that fateful night on the balcony where Ianto and her had met amongst talk of tea and Victor Hugo. That first Christmas, she remembered, Ianto had presented her with a funny German marionette that had a hunch and a slash of red hair. There had been much merriment beneath that Christmas tree. She forced herself to smile.
Lisa had taken one of her personal days and now she was racing into Cardiff, going to see her mother for counsel and wisdom. Her mother had always had both, along with the most extraordinary chocolate biscuits in the country. And her sense of humor had been unparalleled. Lisa could do with both right about now.
Lisa's fingers grazed her stomach as her mind lingered in the shadows of the darkened train. Pen scratches came from all around. A man in a well-tailored suit was doing a cross word and it caught her attention. He wore a gold watch that looked like Ianto's favorite piece of wardrobe, after his tie.
How would she tell Ianto? Oh god, she thought, I can't ever tell him. I can't ever risk what we have, what I've worked for. She wanted to apologize to herself, to him, to the whole world. Lisa was sure Ianto hadn't noticed, but there was a suspicion as he greeted her in the morning after a serious bout with "food poisoning". He hadn't said a word. He'd been the continued strength and support she'd always come to rely on.
She loved him so much. Even when everything turned out awkward and shit, he loved her as well. Her mother would know what to do. Lisa couldn't tell; love made it that much harder.
Creator's Note: Prompt 9: Months. Get it? Nine months?