10. Eggnog

"Here, have another glass," Johnny said, pouring over Ianto's protests. He grimaced. The wine was cheap and weak, a far cry from his normal tastes and ill-paired with the roast turkey Rhiannon had served for Christmas dinner. Still, it might help him relax and enjoy the day a bit more. He was uncomfortable with a family he hadn't seen for months and tense from everything that had happened at work, and though he had begged off the details with his sister, he knew she was concerned. Yet he couldn't tell her that he worked for a secret organization that protected the planet from aliens, that a trio of travelers from 1953 had appeared, and that his boss had helped one of them commit suicide while another flew into a rift in space and time and one—thank god!—went to London to pursue a career in fashion.

Ianto had never felt as isolated as he did then, which was why he'd avoided his sister since returning to Cardiff. He couldn't even tell her about Lisa's death—about her pain and suffering, Ianto's desperate bid to save her, and his horrific betrayal of people he'd come to like and even respect. Everything had to remain buried, secrets he could never, ever share. Sometimes he hated it; sometimes he hated it enough to seriously consider Retconning out of Torchwood. And then he'd think about the good times with Lisa, or how he'd helped save the world with Torchwood, or what a normal life back on the estates would be like, and he knew he never could. So he had another glass, listened to Johnny's obnoxious stories, listened to the kids prattle on about one thing or another, all while his sister watched him like a hawk, waiting for her chance.

She cornered him after dessert. The pudding had been exceptionally good, and between the wine and the chocolate he was almost starting to relax and feel like a normal human being living a normal life. When she offered him a large glass of eggnog, he knew he was done for. It had been a cherished family tradition, something their grandmother had made and served year after year. He'd loved it and missed it and she knew it, and when she inclined her head back toward the kitchen, he had no choice but to follow.

He had to give her credit, she knew how to work the situation. She started the conversation with idle talk about Johnny and the kids and friends they'd grown up with on the estate, then filled his glass again and nailed him.

"So what's really going on with you?" she asked. "You're quiet, tense, distant. You've lost weight. I had hoped coming back to Cardiff would help after what happened in London."

Ianto snorted to himself. Right. Because Torchwood Cardiff was so much easier than Torchwood London. In fact it was harder—a smaller team, more work, more secrets, and the damn Rift dropping Weevils on them every week to top it off. But he couldn't tell her that. She thought he'd left London because of the terrorist attack at Canary Wharf.

"My car was stolen last night," he said instead. "Bloke committed suicide in it." Which was true and perfectly believable, as long as he left out the part about John Ellis falling through a rift in time fifty years after he had apparently died in a plane crash.

Rhiannon's eyes widened and even though his glass was still half full, she poured him more eggnog. "I'm so sorry. What are you going to do?"

Ianto shrugged and took a long sip of his drink; it was surprisingly good, or maybe it just felt good to tell his sister something that wasn't an outright lie. "My boss said he'd replace it."

Her eyebrows flew up even higher. "You must have a nice boss," she said. Ianto shook his head, biting back the bitter laughter threatening to burst forth.

"Not really," he told her. "It was stolen at work."

"Still, to replace your car? That's something."

"He's trying to buy my silence," Ianto replied, though he wasn't sure if he believed it. Jack had seemed honestly upset about the situation with Ianto's car, genuinely regretting his part in it.

Rhiannon studied him, finished her drink, and poured them both more. "Maybe you need a new job. You don't seem happy with this one."

"It's all I have," Ianto said wearily.

"Ianto Jones, you're smart, talented, and good-looking!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "You could get any job you want. Why stay with the tourist board if you're so unhappy?"

"It's not the job," Ianto sighed. Only sometimes it was, when he had to log a body into the morgue, create a cover story, Retcon a witness, shoot an alien.

"Is it your boss?" she asked. "Is he a real tosser?"

He shook his head. "Not always." Not in bed, that was for sure. Only when he kept secrets, especially about things like time travel and carbon monoxide poisoning.

"Ianto," she started. He stopped her.

"Look, I know I've been-" He stopped when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He didn't want to answer it, but he knew well enough that anything could happen with Torchwood, and considering London's track record on Christmas, it was entirely possible that he might be needed to save the world.

It was a text message from Jack.

Are you busy? I'd like to talk about last night.

Ianto rolled his eyes and stood. "Excuse me," he said. "It's him."

"Your boss?" Rhiannon asked with a frown. "Why would he be calling on Christmas?"

"It's about the car," Ianto said. "I'm sorry, I should take this." He stepped out of the kitchen through the back door to reply.

There's nothing to talk about. I'll let you know when I find a new car.

Jack replied almost immediately.

Not about the car. About me.

Ianto felt irrationally angry, annoyed that Jack would interrupt a holiday to talk about himself. Of course he would. And then he'd probably want a quick shag after. With shaking hands, Ianto replied.

It's Christmas. I'm with my family. And I don't need to hear more stories.

Because that's all he ever got from Jack, story after story. It was all any of them got, and there were so many no one knew what was true and what wasn't. Jack had even spun one last night about John Ellis and the car and his own part in it all. Ianto didn't want to hear more stories, he wanted the truth.

Once again Jack replied immediately.

I'm sorry to interrupt. I just want to tell you what really happened last night.

What really happened…Ianto took a deep breath. He'd suspected there was more to it than John committing suicide in his car, Jack finding him and pulling him out. Jack had smelled so strongly of carbon monoxide fumes, had been so pale and red-eyed, so tired and listless and upset. Yet he had completely dismissed Ianto's concern. It had been obvious from the moment the plane landed that Jack had sympathized with John Ellis, a man out of his time; was it because Jack was out of his time as well? Did he want to die too? He was certainly different, Ianto had seen enough in the archives to know that. Jack had secrets. Was he really going to share them with Ianto? Did he want to know?

I've had some eggnog, I should be back at the Hub around 8.

I can pick you up.

I hired a car. I'll be back later.

Thank you.

The lack of innuendo was telling. Ianto wondered if Jack was serious about talking and not shagging. He wanted to be there for Jack, as Jack had been there for him, but found himself doubting Jack's sincerity given how infrequently the man revealed anything about himself. Jack shared so little, why would he share anything with Ianto now?

There was only one way to find out, and that was to go to the Hub and meet with Jack. At least he'd escape the third-degree from his sister, and maybe learn something real about his enigmatic boss.

Author's Note:
Another thank you to Taamar for the idea behind this one! I'd already started a bit with Ianto at his sister's house, but she pushed me to continue it. I had originally planned on doing Tosh and Ianto again as they were the two who didn't have a time traveler to watch, but that wasn't as inspiring. I really wonder how Ianto responded to John's death and Jack's part in it, so this is one look at it. He's confused and not upset about Jack's health as much as he is upset about Jack's secrets at this point. Because if Ianto saw Jack that night, he'd know something was going on for sure! It's a bit longer than a drabble, so I hope you enjoy the extra length. I'm looking forward to sharing the next, written exclusively for Taamar because she's so awesome. Go read some of her stories and you'll see! Thanks for reading!