Almost done! It has been quite a ride, I have to say. Enjoy!

Power

Ever since their numbers had been whittled down to three, the Torchwood team had gotten a lot more protective towards each other. They spent more time together and forged an almost unbreakable bond, made stronger by grief, duty, and secrecy.

Reluctant to part ways after work, but not wanting to deal with the noise and crowds inherent in going out, Jack, Gwen, and Ianto headed back to Ianto's flat for a night in.

Opening the door, Ianto flipped the hallway light switch. Nothing. He jiggled it a few more times with no result.

"The power must be out," he remarked to Jack and Gwen.

"Never mind," said Gwen as she bustled in, Jack following closely behind. "Do you have any candles or torches?"

All available light sources were gathered, as well as snacks and blankets, and the three settled down on Ianto's living room floor.

"So, who's up for a ghost story?" asked Jack, trying (and failing, if Gwen's giggles were anything to go by) to produce an evil laugh while shining a torch in his face from under his chin.

Bother

Ianto entered Jack's office, coffee in hand, to find Jack brooding over his desk, old pictures of men and women spread out in front of him. Ianto thought that one looked remarkably like Estelle, while another picture was of a man who was most certainly jack with a woman in wedding apparel.

"Does it bother you?" Jack asked, trying to appear businesslike as he put away the pictures. The way his fingers lingered on them did not escape Ianto, and neither did the meaning of Jack's question.

"Why would it?" he answered. "It's not like I expected you to never fall in love for the two hundred years before I even existed. And it's not like I expect for you to never love again once I'm gone. You are simply far too loving and smart and alive for that to be true. I can only hope that one day my picture will be added to your collection."

"Without a doubt," was Jack's reply before leaning in for a kiss.

God

Ianto had grown up Roman Catholic. Baptism, communion, church every Sunday and a respect for the holy word. As a teenager, Ianto experimented with religions as his classmates did with drugs. One month he would be Buddhist, and the next atheist. He even tried Scientology for a while. As he grew older, Ianto settled into a kind of agnosticism, or at least animism, and kept his philosophizing to a minimum.

Then came Torchwood. Between the testimonials of Jack, Suzie, and Owen, it seemed as though after death there was…nothing. He was no longer sure what to believe. Was there such thing as a soul? As God?

Glancing around the hub, seeing Tosh entranced by the translation program on her computer, seeing the covert looks Owen gave to Jack's office as he pretended to work, hearing Gwen laugh as she read an email from Rhys, Ianto came to a revelation. God was in the details, in the everyday, if he only cared to look.

Wall

Ianto had heard of the term 'mental walls', the idea of a sort of shield, of protection, that a person made around their mind to stop them from being hurt. Apparently it could only be taken down by true love of some such thing. Ianto thought it was rather ridiculous. The mind wasn't any sort of physical construct, and the idea of protective walls was just fanciful thinking.

Ianto maintained this view until he met Jack. With every question left unanswered, with every half-finished anecdote, Ianto swore he could see those mental walls, made of red brick and cement and built to last. He thought, briefly, of trying to tear down those walls. It certainly seemed to be the desirable state of affairs in books. But then Ianto took another look at the walls, so old and so finely made. Jack deserved to keep them fro as long as he wanted, and Ianto would respect that.

Naked

Jack liked being naked. It was just one of the facts of life: 1+1=2, the sky is blue, and on any given day there was a high likelihood of walking into the hub to find Jack there without a stitch of clothing on him. It got to be that no one thought anything of it, even frequent visitors like Martha. It didn't impede the functioning of Torchwood in any way, so everyone was content to just let it be.

It had started out as a regular day in the hub (or as regular as it got), and yes, Jack was naked.

"Visitor to see you, sir," announced Ianto over the comms.

"Send 'em down, Ianto," Jack replied.

A minute or so later the door opened, and a woman stepped though.

"Harriet Jones, Prime- Oh my!"

"Yes ma'am, I know who you are. Owen, could you pass me that towel?"